life lessons

A Paradox

mimijk

Hi my friend,

Yes, I have to cop to the fact that the title of this post is pretty poor. If you can think of something better, let me know 🥴.

Spring is stirring here, which is amazing given that spring has yet to spring. But there is no denying that the forsythia are awake, some trees are beginning to unroll their leaves and lawns are hinting that something better is in their future. I feel that it would be remiss not to notice, given the sense of urgency that arrives with all of this activity and the silent request that we pay attention.

And yet, I’m not there yet. I still exist in this headspace that aches for a revival of ‘newness’. Yet, the fact remains that I ricochet between disbelief and fear, with some anger in the middle. Where is gratitude? Grace? Hopefulness? I’m trying, I really am. It feels like somewhere I turned in the wrong direction and am now living in a backward space. I know I’m not alone, I know that I have been lucky and blessed, and feel guilty that I don’t hang out in that reality more often.

”When one is in a mess…one has no right to worry about the idiocy of one’s own psychology, but must do the next thing with diligence and devotion and earn the goodwill of others. In every littlest thing you do in this way you will find yourself. [Everyone has] to do it the hard way, and always with the next, the littlest, and the hardest things.” Carl Jung

To paraphrase – suck it up buttercup.

So, I’ve started going to the gym (don’t pat me on the back, it’s not a habit yet). I’m making a conscious choice to notice what is around me that is wondrous, and with a little diligence, can always see something. I am disillusioned by so much, my challenge is to balance that out with some good stuff too.

Small steps…small steps. This is a new persona for me, thinking a bit like Lily Tomlin – “I worry no matter how cynical you become, it’s never enough to keep up.” It’s tough not to feel jaded and dismissive. It’s arguably what one is faced with these days. Small steps, small steps…I’m not giving up with resignation; I’m heading straight for the spring.

Hope your day is great

Mimi

aging, anxiety, friendship, life lessons, mindfulness, politics

A Positive Note

mimijk

Hi my friend,

These days I hold my breath after asking how you are. My hunch is that you are as frightened, stressed and as quasi-fatalistic as me. There is so much horror and division; it feels like decent conversation has gone by the wayside. We see the direction this beautiful experiment is going and shake our heads, shudder, and manifest peace only to hear the universe respond with ‘leave a message at the tone’.

I promise to turn this musing around – watch this…

I have been a domestic diva of late, reminding myself that my name is not ‘Hazel’ and Andy is not ‘Mr. B’ (yes, I’m dating myself and grinning because I hated that show when I was a kid). Doing laundry, cooking, food shopping – I’m finding these day-to-day activities comforting in a way. These are all repetitive actions that give me moments of calm. After all these years, there is a mindlessness to doing the mundane, while also needing to be a little bit present. In the haze of that limited awareness, I’m pretty calm. (Note to Andy – do not in any way read this as a paean to domesticity. Definitely not the intent).

There is something about bookstores that I gravitate to, as an oasis in a desert. A cup of coffee and the time to look at every aisle, breathing the smell of book and coffee is irresistible. It’s my happy place. I never leave empty handed, which to me is reflective of a positive outlook. Between my kindle and the growing pile of books on my desk, night table, ottoman and any other flat surface, it will take a really, really long time to get through them all. Let’s keep in mind, that every time I go to a bookstore, I leave with some written work, and the piles grow. If that’s not optimistic, I don’t know what is. I have every intention of reading them all and will likely continue to increase the books in the stacks. Kind of like Sisyphus, but I enjoy the trek.

I don’t have to say this, but I’m neurotic enough to do so. These are times of incalculable tension. It is true that I have not seen anything this fraught ever. There air reeks of acrimony that isn’t handled as reasonable people would prefer (on both sides of this huge divide). And it’s scary and it’s isolating and elicits feelings of generational trauma. I only inhale deeply when I’m in my cocoon of home, hearth, dogs and books (and Andy too). This isn’t the way I thought about getting older. Naive, I suppose. But I’m holding on to hope – desperately, perhaps. Jean Kerr defined hope as “the feeling you have that the feeling you have isn’t permanent”. I think I’ll go read.

Have a good day – sending love,

Mimi

friendship, grace, honesty, inspiration, life lessons, Loretta Rothschild, marriage, mindfulness, Uncategorized

Another Musing

mimijk

Hi my friend,

Yes it’s been too long and I have no excuse. I feel like the state of our country has become so markedly different than anything reminiscent of a democracy. I race from one thought to the next, without a brake. Thoughts converge into some unappealing casserole. I’ve been thinking of hanging up my blog – for no other reason than feeling I’ve got nothing to say. Emotional impotence doesn’t foster enthusiasm; it sure makes one feel unsteady. And that has little to do with what I wanted to say. I recently finished a book ‘Finding Grace’ by Loretta Rothschild, and yes there’s a happy ending, though there was a lot in there to cry about as well. At the end of the story a character defines love.

Not too much to love these days – yet within the context of Rothschild’s words, there is far more than I realized. I have to put a little more hope in my day-to-days and recognize the exquisite moments that just happen without fanfare. And there’s the soppy side note, that Andy and I celebrated our 33rd wedding anniversary (though if we had gotten it right the first time, we’d be celebrating our 43rd). And so we celebrated love. The days, the months, the years that feel like they’ve moved faster than the speed of light. That’s where we find it – irresistible moments that deserve some attention.

Anyway, I offer up this beautiful excerpt – I took her words to heart – how can you not?

”But love wasn’t measured by endings. It was every cup of coffee, broken broiler, empty crisp packet and train ride. It was every hangover, stubbed toe, high temperature, nasty splinter and burned tongue. Every morning cuddle and blunt pencil. Every kiss good night, every lost key, sore throat, afternoon nap and sip of tea. Every birthday, hot shower, cold swim, paper cut, chesty cough, mosquito bite and bee sting. Every lost bookmark, orgasm, funeral, traffic jam and bite of cake. Every missed flight, snarky comment, haircut and unmade bed. Every first step, endless holidays, mediocre film, sunrise and poo-bag. Every missed connection, miscarriage and uneventful walk. Every wobbly table, broken heart, treasured photograph and lingering kiss. Every wedding, toothache and waiting room. Every school drop off. Every single day.”

The rhythm of life, the basis upon which love is built. I needed the reminder and perhaps you do too. Whether to blog or not too blog is a question for another day. Right now in this moment, there is love.

mimi

life lessons

An Ode To Humor (or what’s left of it)

mimijk

Dear Andy Borowitz,

Full disclosure, I’ve been a fan for quite a while. That said, I’ve never felt any obligation to sing your praises; you were a funny guy and I enjoyed reading your comments on varied topics. That was it in the kudos department.

How things change. Mr. Borowitz, I find myself hanging on your comments on Substack, listening to the occasional interview and when desperate, returning to ones I’ve already seen.

And now? Now I am desperate on a daily basis. (For those reading this who are Trumpers, please hold your opinions. to yourself While I’ve heard you, I’m not directing this to you with intention). I am truly frightened that we are heading into an autocracy with incredible alacrity. I mean, Andy WTF? Can there be a happy ending for this experiment known as democracy? But I digress..

I look to you for that which I don’t see anywhere else – a dose of snark with a nod to whatever can be gleaned from the news du jour. Point always well taken. A nod and a smile and a giggle. I’m not giggling much these days. I am grateful that you elicit that response regularly.

Look, I’ve done all the deep breathing I can do without passing out; I delight in the cardinals that visit our bird feeder throughout the day; appreciate the discreet moments in between that offer a little opportunity for calm. I can’t say it’s all working. But I keep trying.

Andy (can I call you Andy?) you are the water bearer in this desert and as much as I dread the direction we are going, I am equally grateful to you. And if this is a shameless plug, so be it.

faith, life lessons, love

At the end of the day…

mimijk

Hi my friend,

How have the days been treating you? Are you able to relish the change in seasons – wherever you may be? I hope at the very least, you grab the opportunity to find your moment; if there is more than one, all the better.

It’s been a tough time here at Camp K – the losses of three very important relatives have passed away, rocking everyone more than a little bit. This isn’t about the loss, on the contrary, it’s more about what I found.

The moments in between – that’s all there really is, and we experience them all the time. We just shake our heads and say “oh that…”. When my nieces remember their dad – the stories are about little things – how he made up stories about elves while getting them ready for school; his attendance at every soccer game; his words of encouragement when things looked really awful. The stories seemed endless. And each adult child referenced the most innocent of moments. The kind you forget or minimize or dismiss.

I was speaking with my son the other day and he too was saying that the takeaways could be very conflicted and difficult, yet he too is considering the happier moments – not to canonize, nor vilify – just holding the small moments that appear far larger and comforting in the rear view mirror. The ones that can be overlooked yet show up as the most seminal of moments. How fortunate that in our deep recesses, we too can remember – and find solace in the little stories, far more than the epic ones.

One of David Kanigan’s posts last week spoke far more eloquently about the now, the beauty of capturing one moment in time and holding it close and holding it tenderly. Sitting with the experiences you probably didn’t even realize had primary placement in your mind. Didn’t realize until you needed to call upon them for comfort and love.

I leave you with words from Rainer Maria Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet (1929)

I beg you, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”

Live everything my dear friend – live it all, and rest assured what remains is love.

life lessons

On Faith

mimijk

Hi my friend,

What’s the good word for today? Are you beginning to see the whispering of spring? We’ve been graced with an early start to the season; as if there was collective impatience to add new colors to the palate. The exuberance of spring delights me – eager pansies, intrepid daffodils, birds returning from their winter perches. And yet…

There is a somber aspect to my perspective. Bear with me – I’ll get to it. When my parents passed away, I was convinced that if I saw a cardinal in the branches of the trees in and around our house, that it was some kind of cosmic message, assuring me that they were ok. We lived in northern VA at the time. You can imagine how foolish I felt when I discovered that the cardinal is the state bird of Virginia. I felt silly for sure and somehow a little disappointed. Was it better to believe the comforting thought or better to be disabused of such thinking? It was better for me, I think, to have held on to the notion that somewhere, somehow they were still here. It became something to hold onto…

Andy and I are circling 70 this year. He is scoping it out a few months ahead of me, and if we’re lucky it will be nothing more than another trip around the sun with many more still to celebrate and enjoy. I have to admit that I’m not ready to be a venerable age, and there is something a little dissonant about the number itself. I’m not ready, even though it really doesn’t matter whether I am or not. I’m grateful to my toes and scared as well. To age gracefully sounds pretty trite even if it is a decent objective.

I guess, there’s a part of me that still dances with ridiculous enthusiasm, still uses my brush as a microphone (when my throat complies), walk with EarPods secure and music that inspires something akin to rhythm, and find the best jeans in the boys’ department at the Gap. I want to believe what I know is unlikely, yet serves as my first line of emotional defense when seventy looms in unsettling kaleidoscopic display.

“In any life, imagine one selected day struck out of it, and think how different its course would have been…of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day.” Charles Dickens

But for this moment or any following moment there is some invisible thread that connects us to our memories and our tomorrows. I can’t think of any cord – fragile though it may be – that doesn’t extend for longer than my imagination can conceive, perhaps with cardinals flying all around.

Thanks for stopping by, be well and be happy…

life lessons, politics

Irony

mimijk

Hi my friend,

At the risk of redundancy, how are you? I wonder how you’re faring with these days of whiplash and cacophony – it seems like dissonance is the new normal. A strange soundtrack to be sure.

I’m careening between indignation and disbelief; two sentiments I don’t deal with very well. In fact I’m trying very hard to make sense of the nonsensical, and failing miserably. When Alanis Morrisette penned the song ‘Ironic’, I nodded in time and agreement, amused at the creativity of the lyrics.

Not today though – today I have a backpack filled with the ridiculousness of these times. So with no rhyme or reason, I submit the following with the hope that I’m not alone…

1). Dear Senators Graham and Hawley – your hypocrisy is showing – sit the hell down. As much as I agree with the perspective that streaming services need to be more diligent in creating safer platforms for children, it offends me to hear you assert that the CEOs have “blood on their hands.” You’re kidding right? He who throws the first stone, gentlemen …where is the sound bite about the NRA? Isn’t the absence of measures to ensure that AK-47s are excluded from individual purchase irresponsible at best? Or, that background checks should be rigorous? Does the fact that the majority of gun owners support reasonable regulations mean anything? And yet you do nothing. Hmm, I guess that means that you too have blood on your hands – just sayin’…

Dear Boeing – seriously? A few of your newly constructed airplanes have passed quality control, albeit with a few missing or loosened bolts. They assure us that every plane has been re-inspected, honestly it doesn’t do much to allay concerns..

Dear Puxatawny Phil – go ahead and burrow yourself. All the spotlights on you ensure that a shadow will be seen. Hardly prescient, I’m afraid.

Dear Literate People – if you don’t feel exorcised by the systematic banning of books, then your silence becomes complicit. Banning the Bible? The Merriam-Webster dictionary? Choosing to remove undeniable facts about our country’s history – because a discrete few want to edit the past? When did ‘woke’ become an epithet? Anyway, if you want to see the ever-expanding list of classics, just Google it – and then consider that anything other than a passionate defense, isn’t a defense at all.

Dear Politicos – give me a break. You flood my inbox, asking for money for elections that will take place in various eligible states. First of all, my name isn’t my surname, and it’s ironic that you plead for contributions yet can’t get my name right. Just for grins, I tallied up the requests for $20.00 – no surprise it would do up to a healthy contribution. Is it wrong of me to want to hear a stump speech that reflects aspirational ideas instead of negative assurances? Just throw me a bone – let me know what the plan is (caveat – I won’t vote for any misogynistic sycophants, those who limit the rights of women, denigrate minorities with extreme self-righteousness – but if your platform is filled with what you won’t tolerate, tell me how you’d change it)

I could go on, but your attention is being tested, I’m sure…So much irony, so much I find enraging. And in the purest sense we are all here to share the walk home (thank you Rumi), to accept the responsibility of being accountable to and for each other, to marvel at our ability to affect people without a clue that we have done so and to accept the mantle of love, for at the end of the day, that is our common denominator.

Take good care, my friend – I’ll write again soon. With love, me

life lessons

On New Year’s Eve

mimijk

Hi my friend,

I read this quote today and wanted to share it with you. I happen to be one of those people who think of a new year with a cynical perspective. As a child, the start of another year was marked by a guy named Vince Lombardo leading a questionably talented group of musicians in lounge lizard renditions of various songs. It was fun to stay up, feeling like we were doing something illicit (even though it was endorsed by our parents). We watched the ball drop, counting down with whoever was holding the mic.. And then it became anti-climatic – it was over, we were over-sugared and overtired. Forced fun is pretty fleeting.

At this point in my life, there is little difference between December 31 and January 1. I make resolutions that I manage to discard throughout the year. The only thing I really like to do is wish all those I love as well as those that I like a new year with good health and laughter and love and peace. But I can articulate those wishes at any time of the year. Somehow New Year’s Eve doesn’t corner the market on good intentions.

This new year begins with the world in such a state of disarray, it barely resembles anything I can wrap my head around (that’s probably why my head hurts most of the time). War, mass migrations, prejudice, bigotry, the sheer absence of attention to gun control, the insult to women and their doctors and ethicists. I can go on, but you know what I mean. These are the ideas that roll around in my head as we count down to January 1, 2024.

I’m tired. I think you are too. Yet we are here now, and if there is anything for me to resolve, it is my commitment to hold onto hope – it is the only feeling that remains aloft. I will hope that we cherish each other, and failing that, that we accept our differences rather than vilify them. I hope that my children and granddaughters live in a world that they can feel comfortable in – for its generosity of spirit in all things. I will do my part – to the best of my ability and I know you will too. That’s why we’re friends – and why I love you.

Happy New Year

life lessons

Paradox

mimijk

Hi my friend,

How have you been? Are you feeling a little dizzy as we careen from one beautiful moment to a hideous one? There seems to be a serious disconnect between the onset of the holiday season and the season of such discontent. I don’t know about you, but my head is killing me.

Tapping into moments of gratitude is pretty easy for me; I keep feeling a ‘but’ coming on. But there have been so many mass shootings in the US that they average two a day! Two a day…Are we really bearing witness or just silently shaking our heads? But there are two wars being waged and innocent people are dying, dying, dying. How the hell are we to gather and be thankful without acknowledging that this is an incendiary time – sort of feels like the world is just itching for a fight. Climate change, gentrification, prejudice in epic proportion, etc…we are dancing in a marathon with no steps and lousy music.

I feel a bit exposed in a way I haven’t felt before. I am Jewish, it’s in my DNA. My sister and I are part of the cohort of second generation Holocaust survivors. There are vibrations that course through the blood – guilt and gratitude, fear and faith, self-consciousness and self-righteousness. These days there’s a chronic pain that can’t be assuaged and a disbelief that’s impossible to reconcile. How have we not absorbed the reality that we can hurt each other or help each other – a binary choice, with only one positive outcome. And still people choose wrongly. I have no answer; we are destroying each other – which seems inconceivable considering that we’re all walking each other home (thank you Rumi).

And yet – Paul and Vic fly in from Toronto on Thursday, so we can be together for Thanksgiving a couple of days late. Camp K will have a full house and thankfully, we all do well together. I am going to immerse myself in cooking and preparing and will find grace in delighting in the small moments…I will find moments. And, my dear friend, I am grateful for you, and wish you more magical moments than you can count…

life lessons

On Silence

mimijk

Hi there,

Are you ok? I don’t know about you; these days, these days are testing my fortitude and yanking my heart. It’s a visceral dare, and it’s fixed – the more the challenge, the greater the difficulty to rise above.

I heard this song earlier this morning. And in its beauty I found a moment that allowed me to bow my head and whisper ‘thank you’.

We have family in Israel…an elderly cousin in Haifa (who says that she is ‘witnessing a second Holocaust’) and other relatives in Tel Aviv who bore witness then and do so now. as well as others in Tel Aviv who re bear witness yet again. Their comments reflect the reality that trauma can find safety nooks in the soul that are perfect for hiding. It also doesn’t take much to remember where they’re hidden. This isn’t my story though – it is theirs. However, I’m blown away by the sheer heft of hatred that has been let out of the bottle – Palestinians, Jews, African Americans, people from Latin America, Muslims…such disdain is nauseating.

life lessons

On Comfort

mimijk

Hi my friend,

How are your days going? Welcoming the autumn palette? Wishing the summer an ambivalent goodbye? Pissed off at the abundance of holiday items on sale before Halloween has come and gone? Pleased to see such inventory and rue those who don’t share in your delight? Fearing that we are engaged in some kind of destruction of the Constitution; or fearing that we’re not?

These times require that we find spaces of comfort – and seek them out purposefully. Dave and Susan Kannigan’s photos; books that are immersive in scope or messaging or both; intentional hugs; falling in love with the clouds as they pass. Where do you find comfort?

I think comfort can be situational – that which soothes one day, may be less effective the next. And sometimes comfort presents itself in surprising places.

I was at Mayo Clinic last week (all is well, but for some cascading autoimmune issues – anyway it’s fine) – and you might think I found the most comfort in the extensive testing that was done. I did, but the greatest comfort rested in the people I met. Whether doctor or nurse, radiologist or technician – they all drank the Kool-Aid infused with care. And yeah, it didn’t hurt that the patient summaries refer to me as ‘delightful’ and ‘not looking close to her age’ (don’t be a wise guy – it was meant as a good thing). In knowing that after each test and appointment, Andy was in the waiting room.

So I think there is comfort that is immutable and holds us like an old sweater…and perhaps as we grow older, we realize that you need to take it out of the closet and keep it near.

Beneath The Sweater And The Skin

How many years of beauty do I have left?
she asks me.
How many more do you want?
Here. Here is 34. Here is 50.

When you are 80 years old
and your beauty rises in ways
your cells cannot even imagine now
and your wild bones grow luminous and
ripe, having carried the weight
of a passionate life.

When your hair is aflame
with winter
and you have decades of
learning and leaving and loving
sewn into
the corners of your eyes
and your children come home
to find their own history
in your face.

When you know what it feels like to fail
ferociously
and have gained the capacity
to rise and rise and rise again.

When you can make your tea
on a quiet and ridiculously lonely afternoon
and still have a song in your heart
Queen owl wings beating
beneath the cotton of your sweater.

Because your beauty began there
beneath the sweater and the skin,
remember?

This is when I will take you
into my arms and coo
YOU BRAVE AND GLORIOUS THING
you’ve come so far.

I see you.
Your beauty is breathtaking.’

~ Jeannette Encinias

Repost: Deva Vibha

life lessons

On Forgiveness

mimijk

In the Jewish religion, the days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are called the ‘days of awe’. The hope is that as the Book Of Life is opened at the beginning of the Jewish New Year, we will be inscribed in it again when the book is closed. In other words, it would be a good idea to do a lot of apologizing (sincerely), and spend some time in self-reflection.

In the past, I have posted a global ‘I’m sorry’ in FB or Instagram – hoping that anyone I’ve hurt is willing to accept such a blanket apology, Somehow I don’t think that’s what G-d had in mind. It seems to be that Judeo-Christian religions offer us an out – recognizing that genuine sorrow for our less than gracious actions may be absolved if our repentance is sincere. That’s where I feel like I’m trying to wrestle in a spider web. Aren’t apologies for behavior we may or may not remember a bit less than heartfelt?

We all can admit to being unkind, selfish, duplicitous. We have unintentionally disrespected our relatives and friends, played cavalierly with our planet, offered up some really righteous indignation, etc. And this is the sticky part of the web – if one is unable to admit such thoughtless behavior in the moment and/or to the person who was the unfortunate recipient – then what are we apologizing for and to whom? (Yes, it’s me in the web trying to free at least one limb)

So I’m thinking about the act of contrition. Maybe it isn’t about the aggrieved person or people. Maybe it is what changes within us when we are genuinely rueful. Perhaps regret genuinely felt, alters our self-perception. Brene Brown suggests “you either walk inside your story and own it, or you stand outside your story and hustle for your worthiness”. And there’s the nexus – the point where we truly own our stuff – and in doing so, understand contrition in a different way.

“These are the days of miracle and wonder; This is the long distance call…” (Paul Simon). These are awe-inspiring days and I’m trying to own my stuff, including the less-than-pleasant moments. A little self-reflection does more for the soul, than blanket apologies. And it is in that ownership I think, that one can truly say “I’m so very sorry”