Tag: writing

  • Peace. A message to me.

    Peace. A message to me.

    Peace is such a sweet word. It is spelled with soft, light letters. It sounds sweet and kind when spoken and it resonates in a way that sparks light and calmness.

    So why is it so hard to find.

    I hear so many – SO MANY – people: therapists, inspirational and motivational speakers, intuitives, mediums, coaches, people of all walks of life talk about the importance of peace. Of course we hear it on a larger level, especially these days, but more importantly there is the notion of finding inner peace.

    Again. why is that so hard to find.

    I think this:

    Peace is elusive. It is sneaky. It is often in disguise. And it looks and feels different to everyone.

    We – and I am speaking about me and the other Karens at my kitchen table – have a common thread that runs through all of us, as different as we are. We have tried to find peace in all the wrong places. Right now I picture all of the Karens around the table and they are frantically nodding their heads in agreement and high-fiving each other. The speech bubbles above their heads say something like this:

    “Thank God, she finally sees it.”

    “I wondered how long we’d have to wait.”

    “Jesus it’s exhausting waiting for her to get something. . . . “

    The thing I am finally getting is that I have been lost when looking for peace. I have expected that peace would come from people, from things, from spaces, from jobs, from money, from being thinner, from being prettier. You name it.

    I have whined ad nauseam to anyone who will listen that all I want is some peace. To feel whole and at rest. To feel free from worry and anxiety, anger and hurt. To just ‘be’.

    The problem is that what I have been doing is trying to find peace in my person – completely outside of my person. What I have NOT done is taken this whiny wish and accepted responsibility for finding it in my self. My ability to be at peace in the world has been entirely dependent on someone or something else. Anyone or anything other than me. I don’t necessarily mean a lover or a spouse. But most definitely someone or something other than me. I have been looking for my own peace on the outside.

    I guess I could say that this stems from the age old woman’s role model – Cinderella (or Aurora, or Snow White or – pick one – they all run from the same script). After all she certainly did not have peace while working her ass off for her horrid stepmother and sisters.

    But boy, bring in the Prince and all the flowers bloom, stars shine, birds sing and peace reigns down on her.


    Make no mistake I loved those stories. I wanted to hear them over and over again. After all they are our first ever love stories. But they certainly set us up for failure. Not many of us find a prince or princess who will ride in on a stallion, take us to their castle – with its gigantic closet – and save us. Bringing peace to us and all the land.

    As misleading as all that is, using those lovely fairy tales as an excuse for my lack of finding a peaceful existence is just that. An excuse.

    Lately, as I ponder the elusiveness of peace, I have redirected my focus inward. This is not an easy transition for me. I am far more likely to feel like I have to DO something or FIND something and finally peace will be mine. Well, I have certainly done and found a lot of things in my life. And none of it has really brought the kind of peace I am talking about.

    I am also realizing that peace is not a romantic concept. For some reason in my mind romance and peace go hand in hand. Thanks Cinderella. I appreciate the sweetness of the story but I think you are wrong. I also do not think that happiness and peace go hand in hand. In fact, I believe that even in moments of unhappiness, you can be at peace.

    So where is it and how can I have some.

    I think the probability of finding peace is all about personal acceptance. Acceptance of who we are, where we are, what we have, what we don’t have, who we are with, who we are not with . . . just acceptance of all of it. The good and the not so good together have to be enough.

    Peace is not about expectations. In fact, I think peace is more about not having expectations and instead is about feeling satisfied in the moment. Feeling grateful in the moment. It is a letting down of wanting – of needing more.

    I also think that peace is something that is perhaps momentary. It is probably a lot to ask of yourself to be at peace 100% of the time. But in certain moments I think it has to be possible if, and this is a big if, you will let it in.

    And by the way these concepts are completely ours to own. Ours alone. And that is maybe the crux of it – the magic word – Alone.

    Finding peace is most certainly tied tightly to the ability to be alone. I mean really be alone. With yourself. I don’t mean alone for an hour or a day or even a week. I also don’t necessarily mean living alone. What I mean is the aloneness that arises from being still. Being able to sit with yourself in a space that only you occupy. Space that is more than physical. More like head space. Maybe even spiritual space. Definitely quiet space. Maybe that is actually the magic word – Quiet. Quiet is something I have never been able to do – at least not without struggle.

    As soon as I find myself in the quiet, even for a few minutes, I must immediately get up and do something. Put music or TV on. Do the dishes, groceries, laundry, anything. Or maybe I decide it must be time for a nap.

    I simply cannot just sit with myself in the quiet. And just be. Without judgment or second guessing or criticism or self deprecation. Or expectations and want.

    It’s not as if I don’t like myself. I do. Most of the time anyway. But sitting with me in the quiet causes me to be antsy. Fidgety. I am immediately in dire need of a distraction. My mind starts its spinning game. How many things can I think or worry about all at the same time, running around in circles. One stopping for extra time then being pushed out of the way by another who wants center stage. It’s exhausting.

    I so envy people who sit alone – anywhere – and look completely at ease. What a concept. Being at ease with just . . . you. I have to believe that there is peace in that space. At least I hope so.

    None of this comes naturally to me. And I know that it stems from fear and anxiety. The anxiety that comes from having to hear my own thoughts. Not just hear them but listen to them. Really listen to my mind and my heart – all of it. The easy pleasant things and the dark not so fun to acknowledge things. That is of course why the spinning game was born. It leaves no time for consideration or introspection. It’s like Karen 3, the runner. She is so good at this. She knows that if you keep moving you eventually are far too tired to think, to worry, to fear. But in that exhaustion there is no peace. So running doesn’t do it. It does some things but bringing peace – not so much.

    Because after all if you hard stop and really listen to the quiet in your mind and your heart you might not like what they tell you. Better to keep spinning or running until you land on a better thought.

    So how then can one be still and find peace. I think it’s a practice and takes a conscious effort to shut out all the voices. To stop spinning – stop running – sit alone in the quiet.

    I am sure that I will have to force myself to be and stay in the quiet. And I am sure that it will not be easy to do. But I see that all the other attempts at finding peace have failed. So for peace to land safely in my lap I guess I’d better stop moving. At least sometimes.

    Let’s be Still.

     

  • Beware: Meet Karen 10

    Beware: Meet Karen 10

    Anger, irritation, annoyance. They are such powerful feelings.  Sometimes they are justified because someone has crossed you. But sometimes they are driven not by an event but by other feelings – like embarrassment, defensiveness, stubbornness, anxiety, etc.  I have experienced all of them at one time or another.  In these cases anger is a defense. A way to avoid what the real emotion might be. But regardless of how or why it landed the one thing I have found is that it is often nearly impossible for me to let go of anger and its cronies. I know I recently wrote these words:

    “Try not to be irritable or angry and if you are don’t let it define you. It’s such a waste of time and energy”.

    And it’s true.  Despite me knowing this, I can spend far too much time being angry and irritated.  I know, with my ‘smart head’ that the right and proper thing to do is to acknowledge it and get over it.  But emotions usually don’t listen to my ‘smart head’.

    To be sure anger is sometimes swift. Flying in after a confrontation and then sweeping out after your minute is up.  But it can also build up over time and become so overwhelming that it just can’t be shaken.  These are the times when I begin to think, “Huh.  There seems to be yet another Karen rising to the surface and sitting at the table and I’m not so sure I know how to deal with this one”.  

    She is – yes, you guessed it – angry Karen.  Karen10. She is different from Karen5, the bitch, who we have discussed before.  You can read about her here:  Karen5. 

    Side note:  Don’t for a minute think that I’m talking about the now infamous “KAREN”.  God am I sick of that comparison.  Who ever thought it was Ok to label a person as a bitch on wheels with my name.  Seriously.  Every damn person I know, man or woman, child or adult, can be an intolerable, impatient demander of attention and unreasonable requests.  So enough with the KAREN label already.

    Anyway, the newest Karen at the kitchen table can’t seem to shake certain disappointments and frustrations that have been compounding over time.  And it’s making her angry.   This anger results from expectations or hopes that existed, were fueled into motion but didn’t actually land. 

    Sometimes those expectations are supported and reasonable. Sometimes unrealistic and faulty. But those things really don’t matter. The resulting disappointment and anger don’t listen to the why. They just are until they aren’t. That’s the crux of emotion. It tends not to listen to reason. It just is.

    Sitting in anger’s sidecar is irritation. I know that the irritation is twofold. It is directed at whatever fueled the anger but it is also partly irritation pointed at me. I like to believe that I am smarter than my emotions but in this case forget it. The irritation is stuck. Stuck to the anger and stuck to me. And the most crazy thing is that I KNOW when it rises. I can feel it coming and just CANNOT stop it. Again, my ‘smart head’ says: ” for God’s sake Karen LET. IT. GO. No good comes from this. No resolution. No revenge (which is patently unfair anyway). No forward movement. As much as I KNOW this is happening and I can hear the muffled words of my ‘smart head’ I just can’t stop it. WTF is that about ‘smart head’? Why are you so goddamn weak in that moment?

    And this combo is loud. So loud that is drowns everything else out. This ignites Karen3, the runner. She takes off at max speed to escape the noise and the emotion. Thinking all the while that if she runs away it will drift off and she will never have to feel or think about it again. Usually not a good idea because drifting off will always drift back in. You can’t outrun emotion – particularly anger and disappointment. They will always show back up when the circumstances reoccur – which they will. Funny thing about behavior. We tend to repeat it.

    Speaking of repeat behavior – so often I have plowed forward into things and people without really considering the consequences.  You know, the right thing would be to think first act later. Like THAT will EVER happen.

    Or maybe I actually have considered the consequences and figure: “Outcome be damned.  Let’s go and see what happens.”  And if that is the motivation then I’m OK.  Accept the consequence of your decisions and figure out what happens next.  Then do it.  Thank you ‘smart head’.

    So easy to say.  Not so easy to do. Particularly when it hasn’t turned out as you had hoped.

    And there it is. Hope. Much of this is grounded in the idea that hope certainly does spring eternal.  Hope that this time I’m right.  Or this time the choice is so obvious it has to be the right one.  Or this time things will level out because surely if I do A, B has to be the result.  How can it not?  

    But simultaneously that same hope can be deceiving, misleading and cause a life choice that might not turn out as expected.  And some of those choices are not easy to untangle.  The result is Angry Karen.  

    So, this is what I see.  Karen10 finds herself not sitting AT the kitchen table but standing ON the kitchen table.  

    She is stomping around it and demanding that all of the others help her.  She points fingers at each one, except maybe Karen1, the little one.  After all none of this is HER fault. But the others? They are targets. I can hear Karen10 right now between stomps.  “We are all in this together so which one of you bitches is going to fix this shit this time.”  I also see all of them either watching her with amusement, rolling their eyes or trying to push her off the table. Anyone who knows me knows that eye rolling is one of my super powers so I’m pretty good at that one. All of the Karens have that special treat to serve anyone watching.

    Karen10 is a tough one to beat. She is stubborn and defensive. And she is bitter. That’s a good word but I’ll come back to that one another time.

    And how about forgiveness? Forgiveness of others and of myself. This is not easy for Karen10. Or any Karen for that matter. There are many times when the idea of forgiveness escapes me. Again, another emotion that is slippery and hard to grasp.

    As I write this I think about what I am angry about right now. What disappointment or trouble occurred that kicked Karen10 into gear. And I see that my anger is connected to this – I have a breaking point. Maybe we all do. Some limit to how much disappointment, loss, fear, whatever – I can take. The real issue is what happens when that point is reached. Running is a temporary option so that one is off the table. Sorry Karen3.

    It is hard and so frustrating to figure out how to move beyond the anger and where to go from there. I think because all of the options involve risk. Risk of ending up right back where you started. Risk of more unwanted emotion. Risk of loss. Risk of turning the absolute wrong way and then feeling regret. Risk of listening to the wrong person. Risk of doing nothing and just staying angry and disappointed – which as we know is a waste of energy and valuable time.

    Ah yes, the all consuming notion of time. How fast it goes and how much is left. The temptation to act fast before it’s too late, one way or the other, can be strong. But I do know that fast action is probably not going to end well. Best to sit with situation or temptation for at least a while.

    And then there is bitterness. Bitterness because I should have known better. Others involved should have known better. This is such an ugly, acidic emotion. I think it can literally change how you look. Hard, frozen, mean, unavailable. You know, kind of like the resting bitch face but worse. I think bitterness seeps out through your pours and creates a cement mask. It is UGLY. And it is tough to crack.

    So there you have it. Karen10. Angry, sad, disappointed, stubborn, unforgiving, irritated, bitter. All ugly. All tough to release.

    And all of this to say that I am reluctantly welcoming a new Karen to the table. I kind of like – maybe even love – all of the Karens. After all they are all part of me and have led me to here and now, which is not such a bad place to be. But this one? This one is different. She is one that I want to tame. Not push down and ignore but somehow mellow out. For the first time I am pondering the idea that maybe all of the Karens together might somehow be able to get her off the table and take a seat. I don’t mean change her – that’s impossible. She is definitely here to stay. But maybe it’s a matter of another Karen stepping in front of her. Sounding the alarm to say that her time is up for this one. That a different Karen, or maybe more than one, is going to take over from here.

    I guess we’ll see.

  • Unsolicited Bits of Advice

    Unsolicited Bits of Advice

    I have experienced so much in my life.  Some good and some not so good. Some expected and some truly surprising. Some came from struggle – some from luck or serendipity. And so much of all of it either led to, arose from or is simply grounded in my children. Any way you slice it, my experiences most certainly affect the lives of my children – in one way or another.  While I am forever grateful for that, they are no doubt laughing and rolling their eyes at that comment and thinking with immense sarcasm, “Great, thanks so much for that Mom”.

    Sorry my lovely babies (yes you will always be that to me), but I will tell you with 100% certainty that if you have children it is almost impossible not to put your life on the back burner so they will be happy. It is hard to shake the immediate inclination to provide them with whatever they need, to protect them from any potential hurt or danger – no matter their age.  Again, if they read this there is likely such extreme eye-rolling that their eyes might get stuck in the back of their head. 

    Nonetheless, here are some things about lifelong parenthood that I remind myself daily:

    1. Support every bit of them – the good, the bad, the ugly – to the end. Even when you don’t think you can or should or it’s difficult.  Do it so you can  say “Ok then I did that.  I started it and have given them all I have.  Now it’s their turn.” This may seem counterintuitive in some circumstances but when I say support – I mean always have their back.
    2. Let them make mistakes but be there when they fall.  We all make them and we all fall.  Being there to pick them up, dust them off and gently nudge them on to the next step is worth a mint. They – and you – will remember it forever.
    3. Celebrate them. Even if it causes eye rolling and is resisted. Every step they take is a thread woven into their story and is cause for cheering.
    4. Try not to take their words and actions personally.  Try not to be offended and remember that they think they are far smarter than we are.  In some ways they are far smarter than we are.  But in the most significant ways they are still blindfolded and creeping their way down a dark hallway, trying to find the right door.  Even though they say they don’t want us to take their hand and show them the door, in their heart of hearts they will welcome the lead.

    And then there is this. The good, the bad, the ugly, the surprises, the struggles, the luck – all of the experiences I have had throughout my life have led to these little bits of life lessons. Even though some are hard to pull off on any given day, and I mean really hard, I believe in them all.

    1. Always trust your instincts – believe in your gut
    2. Don’t be deceived by flattery 
    3. Each day is a gift in and of itself – so don’t waste a minute of any one of them 
    4. Never put all your eggs in one basket
    5. Be forgiving. If someone hurts you remember that they are probably hurting too
    6. Try not to be irritable or angry and if you are don’t let it define you. It’s such a waste of time and energy
    7. Be strong, take charge and don’t let others make decisions for you. After all it’s YOUR life
    8. Remember who you are
    9. Remember where you came from
    10. Remember what your dad would say 
    11. Remember what your mom would say
    12. Don’t resist change
    13. Give yourself permission to cry. A lot
    14. Laugh. At anything and everything. It’s the best medicine there is
    15. Regardless of the situation, its twist and turns, don’t regret anything and don’t turn away
    16. Always be yourself. Don’t apologize for it and don’t pretend that you are something you are not. Being you is the greatest gift you can give yourself – and everyone else.

    Above all else remember: be authentic. this is your life. it’s your story.

    TELL IT

    As I write this I can hear music in the background and am reminded of one of my all time favorites. Take a listen . . .

    The Indigo Girls. 1989

    Closer to Fine

  • Paradise

    Paradise

    Paradise lost.  But maybe just maybe I have found it.

    Its February 22, 2020, just before the pandemic, and winter school break for my children.  This year is a bit odd.  My daughter, a junior in high school is in Spain on a school trip.  My son, a freshman, is with me this break.  We have traveled with our best traveling vacation friends to Turks and Caicos.  

    For several years now, each year we try to go somewhere together.  Our sons are best friends and we are too.  This year, however, is spectacular. I have never been to this island – or many others if I’m honest.  And it is beyond what I would have imagined.  My girlfriend, who missed her calling as an extravagant vacation planner, hooked us up with an amazing HomeAway stay.

    We are near the beach but not on it.  The view is amazing from every window in the house.  There is a beautiful pool in our backyard – I use the word loosely because “yard” is hardly what it is. It is a veranda overlooking thickly settled lush green woods and the crystal clear water beyond. This area of the house serves as an anchor each day from morning til night.  This is where we gather to relax. To cook and cocktail. Where the kids go when they are beach burned out or “chilling”.

    I know this is an embarrassing phrase for me to use – me the “Mom”. But I am hard-pressed to find a term that better describes the atmosphere.  There is only peace here.  Quiet wind, blowing through the palm trees and the distant roll of the ocean.  It is most definitely a place to relax, refresh, and reset.

    It is 100% chill.

    The family we accompany are seasoned travelers.  They travel many times throughout the year to many different countries and islands.  It is their priority – travel and experiencing life in different places of the world.  I admire this so much.  They are giving their son the best gift – the desire to live globally and experience life in travel. 

    Until recently, I haven’t quite had the same need to travel in the same way.   Make no mistake, I have always loved a good vacation.  Typically one where I don’t have to DO anything.  I can just run, sit on the beach or poolside, read, write, and just unload.  However, these vacations have sparked a new desire to travel. 

    I have learned from these friends the importance of creating an experiential life.  One that is not focused on “things” but on spending time with good friends and experiencing different environments and ways of life.  I see how this creates gratitude for the life that we otherwise live every day.  The comparison can be so vivid that it is almost too much to see or acknowledge.  By this I mean that when I compare the way I exist on these trips to the way I exist in my everyday life I want to run screaming from the everyday.  Especially now.

    Thanks to the world we currently live in, escaping my everyday has become a priority for me.  In these times of distress and uncertainty, the need to run away increases with each day.  I would be lying if I didn’t acknowledge that, in addition to our current world reality, my age has something to do with this.  I approach so many things from a different perspective – one that I haven’t before had.  The sense that there is no more time to waste.  Time isn’t marching on – it has marched on and left me in a place that resembles nearing the edge of a cliff.  I now feel that the space between me and the edge is crucial and I want to fill it with joy – as much as I can anyway.  And now for me that joy involves letting go of things that don’t fill my cup.  Things that bring me anxiety, stress, disappointment, anger.  Some things I can control.  Some I can’t.  So the ones I can are on the top of the pile.  As I weed through them I intend to fill any void with experiencing more of the world. 

    I want to see first hand the beauty of the globe.  I think for me this is a way to release the limitations that I have in every day life.  I am fully aware that the ability to experience these things and leave the sometimes hell of our own reality behind, is a privilege for sure.  It is also a gift I hope to give myself.  

    I would never before have said that I necessarily deserve a gift.  But now that I can see the edge, I am embracing the idea that it is more than OK to accept gifts, from others and most importantly from myself.  And I should say that gifts don’t mean things.  Well, to be honest, anyone who knows me knows that sometimes they do.  But more importantly now for me they mean words and experiences – anything that brings joy.  We all deserve that.  And at this stage of the game I am allowing myself to accept that it’s OK for me to be included in the “we”.  

    Maybe it is the times we’ve had with these friends.  Maybe it is an escape from reality.  Maybe it is getting older.  Whatever it is, I am embracing it and hope to start experiencing the world and my life in a way that brings me some measure of joy every day.  After all, life is far too short to live without it.

     

     

  • Mother’s Day

    Having a Baby.

    Today is Mother’s Day 2025. It also happens to be my eldest son’s birthday. He was born on Mother’s Day in 1997. The syncing of these events happens only once every 7 or so years. We’ve yet to figure out the math on that but suffice it to say that it is rare that we can celebrate both on the same day.

    I absolutely love when it happens. It takes me back to the unbelievable experience of giving birth to my first child. He was about a month early and because Portsmouth, where we lived, didn’t have a neonatal unit I was shipped to Portland. That in itself was cause for crazy town. There was the ambulance ride. The hours of labor. The choice of epidural or no epidural. (Ultimately my low threshold for pain won the battle and I was granted the epidural). My 2 attending doctors arguing over whether I needed an episiotomy or not for what seemed like hours. My mother sitting in the room with us frantically knitting away as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Like most other births – it was A LOT.

    So when the 2 “holidays” coincide I get a little extra shiver of maternal joy for this perfect young man.

    Gratitude.

    And since it is Mother’s Day I will thank all 3 of my babies for teaching me yet another substantial lesson.

    Truthfully, they teach me a lot all the time but today my thoughts are focused on how truly authentic they are as they move through life. They act with a genuineness that I rarely see in people. They are honest with themselves and walk through the world with the grace that comes from being unabashedly so. This might be what I am most proud of. And whether they know it or not they are teaching me how to be that way as well.

    So, on this day this year I feel different. I feel more at ease with myself. I feel a little bit more real. By that I mean I am slowly embracing the me on the inside who is rarely allowed out. I think I am always authentic in my interactions with others. But there are many times that I stumble over the idea of letting myself go and I fall into a pit. The only way to crawl out is to shove that inner me down, stiffen up and march forward like the awkward 10 sided soldier I am.

    Pondering the idea of authenticity today, I see that as I have been writing about the several Karens that sit around my kitchen table, I have found one common thread that runs through each one.

    It is the inability to feel comfortable in my body – in my own skin. This is a version of being authentic all the way from the inside out.

    It’s like this.

    I have always wished that I could dance. I don’t just mean dance without stepping on someone’s toes. I mean dance as if there is no one else in the world. Dance with all of my body moving in sync with whatever music is playing – or maybe without any music playing at all. We have all seen people who are capable of moving freely and without restraint. Spinning and waving their arms, swaying to the music, with their head thrown back in abandon. I have never been able to express myself in this way. I might feel it but I just can’t let go and move without inhibition.

    And then this happened.

    I recently met a photographer, Hannah McMahon, who offers an “unbranded” photo shoot. The intent is to be photographed in a way that expresses who you are. Who you really are. @hannahmacstudios.com The use of the term unbranded is intentional. It is not photography that imposes a view of you on the world for a purpose but instead is a reflection of the free, uncompromised, unforced you. I scheduled the session because I wanted to see if I could relax into a moment and let go of my stillness. Let go of the me that is trapped and frozen inside my body and, if I could, see what that looks like. Through someone else’s lens – literally.

    Well. This experience was amazing. I will say that I all but forgot about my stillness. I moved in a way that I didn’t think I was capable of. I’ll admit that it’s not as if I danced around the room with complete abandon. But I did move in a way that is not normally comfortable for me. It was at the same time authentic and uncomfortable. The combination was extraordinary.

    I saw the photos a week later and the only thing I could get out of my mouth as we scrolled through was “What the fuck? Who is that?” It was of course me. But a me that I never really set free and certainly a me that I don’t let other people see. So yes, it’s yet another Karen, No. 10, and this one is the inner me that combats the controlled stiff stillness. The me that I want to be all the time, but just cannot seem to let myself express.

    As we went through the photos I also realized that all of the Karens showed up in at least one photo. So, now I’ll show you what they each look like. At least in terms of stature and attitude through the eyes of Hannah Mac.

    Karen 1 – The Child

    Karen 2: The Lawyer

    Karen 3: The Runner. (She’s slower these days and usually wears running clothes, but this is her vibe)

    Karen 4: The Painfully Shy One

    Karen 5: The Bitch

    Karen 6: The Imposter.

    Karen 7: The Shield

    Karen 8: The Comedian

    Karen 9: Mama

    And finally – for now at least – Karen 10: The Karen that is Free.

    Now, as you read the captions and compare them to the associated photo you might not really see how they sync up. But I do. Knowing each of these Karens as well as I do, the images project the quality each one carries.

    So, a huge THANK YOU to Hannah McMahon. This experience gave me so much more than I expected. Not only beautiful photography but a sense of who I can be if I can just get the fuck out of my own way. And that day I took a step, did not stumble, and inched my way along.

  • Lurve, Choices & Wistfulness

    I suspect that I am not alone in feeling like my mind, heart and soul sometimes gang up on me and present my past to me in unusual ways. Sometimes through dreams, the sense of deja vu, new experiences that seem to recall past events long forgotten and sometimes just plain old memories resurfacing at random intervals. Naturally these recollections include people – some I’d like to remember fondly and some I’d like to pretend never existed in my life. Either way it can be disconcerting to suddenly remember events that elicit old feelings and emotions and bring ghosts with them. Even when they are good ones.

    Being who I am, a self proclaimed ‘Doubting Thomas’, I naturally assume that, “Uh oh. I must have made some tragic mistake or my mind wouldn’t be dredging itself and bringing these people and events to the surface”. And although this is likely just the nature of being human – lately it has made me wonder about whether or not it should give me pause to think about who and what is cropping up and the impact it may or may not have on my life now and in the future.

    I am fully aware that I have led a very fortunate life. That is not to say that my life has been a walk in the park but I will say that overall I’ve been pretty lucky. With some exception, I had a pretty normal upper middle class childhood. I was lucky enough to go to a great college and law school. Have solid jobs that, if it weren’t for certain self-imposed weaknesses (a/k/a superpowers), allow me to live very comfortably. I have had and do have extremely wonderful and supportive friends. Some who are lifelong and some who were there when we needed each other and then we parted ways.

    I have been lucky to have fallen in love several times. Some of those times equate to what Woody Allen called being in “lurve”. That’s pretty special and doesn’t come around much. Nor does it necessarily last. But experiencing it is a wonder and something to be very grateful for.

    I’ve been around the marriage block a few times and, as a result of one very special marriage, have three amazing and perfect children. I was lucky enough to be able to stay home and raise all three of my babies and then reenter the workforce. As any woman knows, it is a gift to be able to stay home with your children but it also puts you a little behind the 8-ball once you start working again. I could write a whole post about that issue but that is not what this one is about.

    So, while I can admit that I’ve been lucky, I can also say with certainty that all of my choices have not always been the right ones. As a human, I think that making life choices is somewhat of a crap shoot. And that has to take into account whether there is really any choice at all or if it is all just a matter of fate. But as usual I digress. Let’s avoid fate for now.

    Some decisions are made spontaneously and some take years. In both circumstances the result is not always what you would expect or necessarily want. Rarely do we get a do-over when we find that what we thought we wanted did not exactly hit the mark. But if we are lucky, we learn to move forward, accept the consequences and keep the ball rolling. Sometimes it can be hard to even find the ball and then have the strength to push it. But with luck – and a good therapist – we carry on.

    Even when we “carry on” – and this is really my point – the universe will throw something in your way and raise a memory that isn’t easy to shake. Memories of lost experiences and people can be melancholy. Some people you never, ever forget. They stay with you no matter where you land and that can sometimes be reassuring. Like the loss of your parents. As hard as that is to accept when it happens, there is something comforting about always having them present with you in some way. Sad but comforting. Wistful.

    Some experiences that have ended and the people with them – once remembered – make me particularly wistful. Not because I am necessarily sad about the loss – whether it was due to my own decision, another’s, or fate. I might even know that whatever caused the loss ended up being the right thing. But even knowing that, it can be hard to shake the feeling of melancholy that the memory brings. And that makes me wistful.

    I find that it it can be hard not to immediately think “Oh shit, why am I thinking about this now? Where did THAT dream come from? And why did I make that choice in the first place? What was I thinking? What a mistake. And now it’s too late.” As if the memory and the emotion it evokes are telling me that I should have turned left instead of right and what a dumbass I was for for ignoring the left option.

    This of course only applies to choices we have actually made – not ones that were made for us.

    Or maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it applies to all left and right options. Those we made or those that were made for us. And maybe it doesn’t actually matter. Because the fact is that the result is here. This is where we are. Where we have landed. And where the future begins.

    Nonetheless maybe the lesson is that it’s ok to be wistful. Maybe that is what makes us whole. All of the lurving, losses, successes, choices, fates interventions, combine to create the you that is you. And you encompass all of it.

    Beauty comes in many forms and maybe the sense of our past lurves, choices, fates curve balls – all of it – however it happens, make us wistful. As they randomly show up they are beautiful simply because they were. Because they happened. We experienced them and that is enough.

    It is also not lost on me that all of these lurves, choices, losses, successes, exist in one or another of the many Karen’s that drive this bus. There really isn’t just one of me. There are many and each one holds a part of me that carries one or maybe many of these encounters.

    And each encounter is sometimes unexpectedly followed by a moment of pause.

    To remember.

    To mourn.

    To appreciate.

    To treasure.

    To learn.

    To do something different next time.

    Or maybe just to stay the course.

    It is all provocative. And how lucky are we for that gift. Right?