What a superior man knows

Praise specific things you love about your woman 5 to 10 times a day. Find out what happens.

~David Deida, The Way of the Superior Man.

Thought in real time

Once you've let someone into your heart, saying goodbye takes time.

The way things aren't

Tonight, I spotted a pile of abandoned books at a bus stop. At first glance I thought this one was titled, "The Cheerful Writer".

Evolving 201

Nothing in life is really black and white, but sometimes it's good to make something black and white. Sometimes, when you've had enough of something, the best thing you can do for yourself is to stop examining, questioning, forgiving and fixing it. Sometimes it's best to just draw a line and say that's it, no more.

Thanksgiving moment #4

When the apartment is filled with the smells of home cooking, and you're in the presence of active love, the gray day outside your window matters not.  

Thanksgiving moment #3

Turkey in the oven, stuffed with apples and drenched in champagne.

Thanksgiving moment #2

There's nothing that makes me cry like raw emotion, and raw onion.

Thanksgiving moment #1

Aside from meditating, there's nothing I find more meditative than sitting alone in a quiet kitchen, trimming and cutting 3 pounds of string beans.

Popular poultry

At Fairway Market today, my turkey was approached and filmed by NBC News.

I haven't even cooked it, and already it's a success!

Earlier tonight, I experienced a self-generated feeling of powerlessness, but after taking in the air outside, I realized it was an illusion. Slipping into darkness wasn't real.

For the past several weeks, my subconscious mind has been working overtime to heal what hurts on a conscious level. I may stumble, then fall into dangerous thoughts that mute the pretty colors, but I have not missed a thing. I have noticed the tree on Broadway packed with singing birds, the love inside the embrace of a friend, the dimple on the left side of my daughter's face while she chews.

I've known for a long time, regardless of psychic pain, existential loneliness, violence and turbulence, that life is sweet. I've known for a long time that when you are standing in joy, you might soon be standing in grief, and as quickly as you slip into darkness, is as quickly as the light goes back on.

I can change the channel with my remote, but bad news will always play. So I remember there's hot coffee on a cold day, or a lover who made me laugh. There's a piece of music that makes me feel, and a painting that reminds me to notice. Notice the dimple on her face, and the birds that bring in winter, as I keep open my heart, when all it wants to do is close.

13

Annie: "I love you, Mom."

Me: "Oh, you only love me when I give you something you want."

Annie: "No, when you give something I want, it just reminds me that I love you."

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres.

1 Corinthians 13: 4-7

Thoughts in real time

Rainy night.
War begets war.
The first two weeks were easier than I imagined.
Today was harder than I imagined.
It would be nice, if just before bed, I could turn off my heart.

Unsolicited advice from me

When you're caught in a trap... you should walk out.

Homecoming

For the past 12 months, I was not the mother I wanted to be. I listened to a voice other than my own, and put someone else first. Annie has been my girl for 13 years and she needs me now, maybe more than she ever will. She can run me through the ringer, then grow up and fly away, but she's my heart. And even if I fall in love again, I'll never leave her again. Not ever. No way.

On her way back...

She is.

In my dreams

Last night I dreamed I was in the wilderness, elevated from the ground on a rock. There was a bear below, and when it saw me, it began climbing to where I was. I hunkered down and hid. A ranger appeared and started to shoot, and though I was thankful to be protected, my heart was broken. I couldn't bring myself to look at the bear as he now lay dead.

Thoughts in real time

I will never sacrifice my peace, or doubt my intuition, or trust the way I once did.

Sad but not longing, alone but not lonely--withheld truth is just like lies.

Pretty windy night.

Wasn't thinking about apples...
... until just now.

Thoughts in real time

I never envisioned a future, so I'm never surprised to find myself wherever I am.

I have so little time left to spend with my daughter like this.

I learned about what people are made of and what they're not made of. I learned about bonds that don't break and cycles that don't end. I learned that untruths are the same as lies.

I didn't know I'd like being alone as much as I do.

When a man looks at me and tells me I give him hope, he's just looking in a mirror, liking what he sees, and what he sees is me--looking in a mirror, liking what I see.

Nice, nice weekend.

Why do I keep thinking about apples?

Oh what a beautiful morning...

Oh, what a beautiful day.

The end

I stood alone in the empty kitchen, the freshly mopped floor under me felt like something new. The glasses were packed yesterday, so like he had done the night before, I filled a bowl with water and I drank. The kitchen is clean, I thought. Ready for new lives.

A wishbone sat on the bare counter, but what could I wish for, and who would make the other wish? Even if he were still here and agreed to play such a silly game, he may have wished for money, and I just would have made another wish for him.

The next morning I would wake to new but familiar sounds. A siren, a workman, a baby crying, but it's all quieter where I am now. The sun gets in, there's a fountain outside, and though I didn't build or create this better place, I did use my degree to get here. I could have kept living in a way that lessened and diminished my life, but that wouldn't have made me strong. It wouldn't have been a test of my character, or meant I was a good soldier--it simply would have meant that I was enduring. I knew I deserved better, and walking away is often more courageous than staying--I knew that too.

I took one swig from the last bottle of bourbon and poured the rest down the drain. I opened the fridge then emptied the milk, the juice, the can of ginger ale he was saving for later. No more cigarettes by the window, no more martinis after midnight, no more questions or doubts, no more failed attempts at everything.

No more morning embraces and hour-long kisses.

I grabbed my bag.

One last look at the bathtub where he bathed, where we were often so playful and sometimes so sad. One last look at the living room where we slowed danced, where he said it was always me--the only one he loved like that. One last look at the kitchen where I made him a first meal, where he arrived on the dot, so handsome and hopeful. One last look at the room where we loved one another and slept, then I turned to leave and turned the key.

And with my newly strung guitar on my back, I left the love nest and the battlefield. I took the train home to where the sky is bluer and the light is brighter, where sirens still blare and babies still cry, but where the world looks more like mine. Now I can wish again for the things I want, and be in a place where I am free to breathe.

Higher learning

In February of 2009, I wrote this.

I had gone through things, learned things, and overcome things, and I declared it graduation day. The only thing I had yet to understand was there were more doors to walk through, and more work to be done--so much more. So whether I liked it or not, I was signed up by my life to learn harder lessons, which I did. And along with spring breaks and glimpses of a bright future, the work was as grueling as it gets. I was thrown into fire, and just as soon as I would stand to recover, I'd be thrown back in again, until burning became too familiar.

In February of 2009, I did graduate, I just didn't know what it meant. I thought I was finished, done, complete, and free, only to discover I knew nothing about myself in relation to what I needed to know, or to be worthy of my diploma.

It's October of 2010, and tonight I sit surrounded by packed boxes in an apartment where he and I dreamed of, but could not build a beautiful life. But I feel empathy, not empty, resigned, not resentful. I'm disappointed, not in despair, and I'm not disillusioned because I no longer have them. Illusions.

I have something better--an education, a master's degree in Me. And when the day comes that I am surrounded by boxes unpacked, it won't be the thing that was lost in storage, unmarked, or broken. It will be the thing that reminds me there is only one direction for me to go, and that I've done my time standing in fire.

I get it now. I know who I am. I know what I'm worth.

In real time

Late night, dishes done, my sweetheart sleeps. The end of one story, the beginning of another--sorrow and hope at the very same time.

Sunday night

Sitting on the sofa...

Annie: "You're a piece of crap."

Me: "I am?"

Annie: "We're gonna sell you in a garage sale because you don't work anymore."

Me: "Hey, I paid for your birthday party yesterday!"

Annie: "Mom, I'm talking to the lamp!"

One good thing

Following a day of distractions and peace, a cloud found its way to me. I lay on top of my made, empty bed, and sent a text message to my friend in California.

Tell me one good thing, I wrote, and she replied, The scent of eucalyptus trees.

And the scent of eucalyptus trees was delivered to me by my memory, and it filled the room. So I sent the same text to another friend, and then to many friends, and here are some of the responses I received:

You are beautiful

Yankees won today

I'm going to Miami on Friday!

You are funny and smart

I got a 91 on my Human Sexuality test!
Annie

It is a beautiful evening

I love you
Moon is like a silver penny

Thought in real time

It's surprising and sad, how someone's face, and the way they look at you, at your face, and the way you look at them, can change so dramatically in only one year.

Thought in real time

Teach people how to treat you, but do it right the first time, so you don't have to spend the rest of the time giving refresher courses.

Quote

"Sometimes life gets really small and all you want to do is find your Muenster cheese"

~Ann Bowen

Shadows & light

A year of storms with moments of calm--a month of shadows with so little light. I talk of surrender, but I never surrender, so I'll try again this time. I'll remain open to remaining open, to the calm after the storm, to the light we share inside the shadows, and to the continued possibility of us.

Grounded

When you fall in love in your forties, you cherish every moment of feeling that way again, and since you don't have much time, you waste no time drawing up plans. You decorate your life together on paper, and choose colors for walls you have yet to build. You drive up the coast with the radio on, and when you arrive you make a nest, drink ginger martinis, and wake up early the next morning because you can't wait to start another day.

But when you fall in love in your forties, your baggage might feel more like cargo, and its weight might exceed the limit allowed to fly. When you return from the coast and get ready to board your flight to the future, the outside world stands waiting--hands on hips, with needs, wants and demands.

When you fall in love in your forties, it feels like time is running out and standing still. You've been here before so you see clearly, but you've never been here before so you've also gone blind. Like a lucid dream, you're awake enough to know what surrounds you, and asleep enough to be blissfully unaware--that no matter how many seeds you plant in your new garden, or how many beautiful colors you choose for your new walls--no matter how much anticipation and hope you use to fuel the engines of your pending flight, if the weight of your baggage exceeds the limit, you may never have the chance to take it off the ground.

What we forget

I remember the winter, loving the sight of his brown leather shoes on my living room floor. I remember the summer, his shirt hanging above me in a tree on a mountain. I remember last fall, wrapped in his arms, shivering from the cold and hopeful--and soon I'll remember his tanned, strong legs, his warm breath on the back of my neck, and all the times I knew he loved me.

Fall

It reminds me of being desperately in love with a very tall man. It reminds me of the liberating sensation of losing track of time after giving birth to a baby. It reminds me of all my daughter's birthdays, of Halloween, and of being in my kitchen, looking outside the window, convinced that everyone was happier than I. It reminds me of my need to be loved, but mostly of my need to be seen. Fall reminds me of whales on Cape Cod and of winter's approach, and of all the times I walked down the street in a coat and boots, knowing there was something better, but believing there was nothing more.

The way things are

Over a hundred years ago, my great grandfather fled from Russia to the United States on a ship. He left behind my great grandmother and their five sons, in search of a better life for all of them. He worked and he worked and he worked, while back at home his wife and children waited. Eight years after he set sail, he had earned enough money to send for them, and months after that, they were reunited on the waters surrounding the Statue of Liberty.

I can easily make up a story, a fairytale, a fantasy of the love my great grandparents shared, or of the romantic and tragic life they lead in their homeland. I can imagine the joy and promise as they began to rebuild their lives, I can see them sitting around the table having a bit of schnapps, toasting to better days inside the small but peaceful confines of their Lower East Side tenement. But they were just like me, and they were just like you. Their dreams were different but just the same as ours, and their love was different but just the same as ours, filled with expectations and hope, doubt and disappointment.

Sometimes I wonder, in their own fantasies, if my great grandparents ever imagined me--a great granddaughter they'd never know, whose life and circumstances, over a hundred years later, might be different from, and also resemble their own.

Odd add on Craigslist

Friendly, Upbeat Drummer - With a CAR (Must LOVE Kids!)

It's love all right, it's just the world around it that makes it so hard.

Moment in real time

I declare my joy in the moment, and the problem with that is the moment changes. I declare my grief in the moment, and the good thing about that is the moment changes. But the bad thing about all of it is--you never expect the joy to go, and you can't imagine the grief ever leaving. 

A couple of years ago, I was explaining to my mother exactly the kind of man I wanted in my life. She listened patiently as I rattled off my list of requirements, then she said, "Katie, you are going to meet someone. He won't be the man on your list, he won't be the man of your dreams, and at first, he may even be unrecognizable. But he will be the right man for you."

The way things are

It's funny how you can have a whole life of focusing on something, longing for something, dreaming of something--then when you finally find that something, you begin to miss the time when you were focusing on, dreaming of, and longing for that something.

In real time

Have you ever wanted in the same moment, to go back and go forward? Have you ever in the same moment, looked at a baby and been glad you didn't have one, and long for one? Have you ever turned on a piece of music that reminds you of a dark time, only now the time is covered in light in your memory? Have you ever tried to spell a word that keeps coming up incorrect, and in your resigned unwillingness, have you ever chosen a different word that turns out better than the one you were intent on? Have you ever thought you could fix something, but realized you are not the only one creating outcome? Have you ever felt bound and free, invisible and seen, all at the same time?

I have.

1980's NYC...

... these were my friends.

The breeze through my window

Sometimes it pours rain on your carefully choreographed outdoor wedding. Sometimes someone you love dies at night in a car on a road. Sometimes you look back at your life and think you have nothing to show, or that you didn't get the right kind of love, and sometimes a warm breeze blows through your apartment and imposes onto you all of the day's beauty whether you like it or not. Sometimes your mother gently points out how vulnerable you are, and even though she's telling you not to change, you can't help wishing you could. Sometimes all you can do is wait for something to shift, something to make it bright again, smell sweet again, like that smell when you walk past the markets in the city--the smell of Hyacinth and Lilacs; a reminder that sometimes just being alive is worth all of it.

Sitting at the sidebar

He's not my usual cup of tea, but I could drink this song like water all day long.

Good news!

In this week's Leo horoscope, Rob Brezsny predicts I will be moving from a state of raw, dark, obscure power, to a state of bright, refined, accessible power!

Yay for me!

Joke by Annie

Q: What does a tomato who's behind in school need to do?

A: Ketchup.

Thoughts in real time

On the train to work this morning, as I listened to the music I have posted at the sidebar, I thought to myself, I am home. Then I thought about detours, and that I've taken quite a few in the past months--both musically and personally. Then I thought there's no such thing as a detour, because there's no such thing as a main route, not really.

We never stray from home or from who we are, because the map has only one road. It's the one that takes us over pavement and rock, through parts unknown, places to revisit and things to see for the first time. And whether we stop to hang our hat, or land only to take off again, we're always home in some way. We always walk through the rooms and adjust the pictures--we change things, move them to different places--always trying to make it sweeter, make it better, make it feel more like home.

A few of my favorite things

A fine leather bag, a good pair of tweezers, unexpected blue skies, and the Red-tailed Hawks flying over New York.

Thoughts in real time

We all deserve, but if we don't demand... we're just deserving.

I demand much more than I did twenty years ago, much more than I did five years ago, even more than five days ago. I still take backward steps, I still take less, but my vision walks forward on an unobstructed path, always in the direction of more.

And now when I look in the mirror, I want her to have everything I never did, and to be loved the way she deserves--the way we all deserve, but so rarely demand.

Thoughts in real time

Clean closets, dirty sink, cable guy comes Saturday. It shocks me how close two people can be, and how quickly they can feel so distant. That lady with Lilacs on the train platform was nice.

Café days

I sat at the cafe tonight, the doors open wide. The sun before setting shines brightest on the corner, as if it's walking down the hill toward the river, and stops only for a rest. Music played, everyone inside was smiling, and when I felt the breeze hit my back, it all reminded me of a beach bar; sitting with the locals, talking about nothing but sharing everything.

At the cafe, I felt the gift of my freedom. To walk outside when I choose, sit where I want, drink what I like, and not have to explain or justify any of it to anyone. When you have such simple freedom, it's easy to see what's around. It's easy to value your neighbors, a cold beer, and the beauty of a New York City street corner just before sundown.

Evolving 101

My father once told me to believe in the tides and the seasons, and yesterday when my mother asked why I no longer write on the blog as often as I did, all I could think of were the tides and the seasons.

Beginning almost 4 years ago, The Half Note has been a friend by my side--a witness to my wake up calls. It's been like a funnel through which my lies and denial, and ultimately truth and longing, poured down a narrow stem, filling the space that I now recognize as me.

I remember my honeymoon twenty years ago--a Caribbean dream, the island of Anguilla. With my husband, I walked on smooth coral sand and swam in the kind of sea where mermaids must live. Across winding roads under island skies, I drove a jeep with no doors, with eight black-skinned schoolchildren on board, weighed down by bags and books, asking with joyful smiles to please drop them home. Anguilla was the place to celebrate life, to be in love, and feel one's freedom--so it was no wonder that my inexplicable sadness the entire stay came as a surprise. But no surprise.

People spend their whole lives climbing ladders--toward success, in battle, or in search of something else. I don't have to tell anyone what my theme has been, because I've never kept it a secret or made apologies. I've been accused of having an adolescent view of romance, an unrealistic expectation of men, and a fairytale vision of life. But I actually think I have a realer vision than many. It's not the criticism or accusations that have helped me evolve--it's my commitment to having another look around, to not accepting that I'm done or finished, left to spend the rest of my life buried by the weight of my limiting beliefs. I've made decisions both consciously and unconsciously to do this thing a second time, a third time, as many times as it takes so I can get it righter than I got it before.

Now I see with new eyes, young eyes, girl eyes. I'm 46 and I'm 16, and it really doesn't matter if I'm worshiped or walked away from, romanced or rejected--because even the things that hurt most are a small price to pay in comparison to what I have now--the things that can't be taken.

Maybe without warning, like the way it used to be, The Half Note will have 6 posts all in one day, and maybe I'll return to Anguilla. Maybe I'll walk on the soft coral sand, swim in the sea with mermaids, and give rides home to those beautiful children. And in the jeep with no doors, whether I'm with a sweetheart or I'm driving alone, I will celebrate life, and be in love, and feel my freedom, because I no longer have a choice.

It's sunny out with rain tomorrow. This is it, the changing tide, the new season--this is who I recognize as me.