November 24, 2014
Ever since I received that first rejection of my novel a couple of weeks ago, I’ve been asking myself: “How can I come to peace with what I am and what I have?”
A simple question, asked daily… sometimes hourly… over the last two weeks. A question that seemed so simple that surely there must be a simple answer. And there was, but arriving at it was not so simple. In fact, there were times that the dark abyss of no answer was frightening. Had I really come all this way, survived so much, only to be unable to see the woods for the trees?
When I worked as a therapist I tried to impart the conundrum of self-evolution: the conundrum being that only we, the individual, can do the work, but that it is impossible to do the work without help. So I would like to say a thank you to my helpers during the last 2 weeks.
First is my Joel who, apart from being a great photographer, is one of the most optimistic, trauma/drama-free humans I’ve ever met. A man who, while never having experienced the despondency and depression that many of us have been visited by, nevertheless knows how to rock me when I weep. My friend Sharon, who said “Maybe we need to look more at our lives and less at our selves.” Vivian, who gives the best hugs both in person and via the phone. And our dear friend Gianni who wrote from Tuscany: “You and I have not yet been kissed by the success we have longed for, but your #1 success will always be Isabel (my daughter) and #2, meeting Joel”. And Adam, the healer who lives next door. All of this love, along with that from my daughter and my stepdaughter and her family, has kept me going while I kept asking that question.
The answer came 2 nights ago when I was writing to all of you. For the last 3 ½ years I have been putting pen to paper in order to explore the ups and downs, ins and outs, joys and sorrows, births and deaths, aches, pains and rotting gums, food and flood, love and laughter, and the sheer miraculous absurdity of life. I’ve actually been doing this for 47 years, but only 3 ½ years ago did I find the courage and generosity to share it with all of you.
While I was writing the last post, it was as though you all gathered around me and roared a mighty “yes”. And suddenly it all fell into place: the understanding that what I “have” is such a privilege. The energy that goes from me to you and back again reaches out to more people than we can ever know. The exquisite shift of energy that occurs in the private yet open communion between writer and reader alters the molecular world, as does every sneeze and sob and snowflake.
When we are at peace with who we are and what we have, the universe expands and opportunity arises as easily as breath itself.
Oh, I thought, who cares whether the novel is published or not? Next year I will self-publish a collection of essays culled from the blog posts; a book published just for you. And why not a podcast of the blog, too, for those who cannot read or don’t have time?
I shared this revelation with my stepson, Sasha, who wrote back with such love and wisdom, encouraging me to keep blogging and furthermore, to claim it for myself because, he said, the blog is really yours anyway. A profound thank you to him for his exquisite timing.
For all of you who might shiver and gasp at the firing of my dear Joel, let me assure you that I will still include photos of his from time to time….what, are you crazy? You think I’d look that gift-horse in the mouth?
The title of the blog will remain the same except that now the ‘our’ will include us all. For at our best that is what we are all doing: feeling our way around.
So to all of you, dear readers, thank you for being a part of what I have and may we all give thanks tomorrow for the gift of life which, while not always beautifully wrapped, and sometimes having less than desirable content, is bestowed with unconditional love and offers us daily the opportunity to practice gracious acceptance.