Life Sisters

I went for a long walk in the woods today with a friend.  She is a newer friend, relatively speaking, since we met about five years ago, both in our 30s at the time.  I think when women become friends in their 30s, either after or in the middle of major life events, we cut to the chase a bit faster talking candidly about life experiences, wishes and fears.  There’s some freedom in laying it all out on the table and picking up the pieces together.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my friends lately, realizing each individual friendship almost has its own personality.  I’ve never been one to be part of a group of friends.  The only exception was a few years ago for a short time, and honestly I felt quite out of place.  Although I love being around people, I’ve never really understood my place or felt comfortable relating with a group of four or five different women around a dinner table all at the same time.  It’s conversationally exhausting to me and I always wonder if everyone is really hearing each other.

Perhaps it began in kindergarten.  I don’t actually remember these details, but G tells me that the class was playing this game called statue and since she was new she didn’t know the rules.  She asked me how to play, because I seemed nice, and we’ve been friends ever since.  The only people who have ‘known’ me longer are my parents.  Although I am an only child, at six years old G became the first of my life-sisters.  I came home recently to this card from her.

When this letter writing bug hit me, it was really all about sending them rather than receiving, which made this one such a special surprise.  There is an inexplicable consolation that I find in talking with my friend who has known me since before I really have a memory of anything.   I find myself at a loss for words right now to describe this friendship…and that’s ok. Because when we talk, our silences are filled in with 35 years of understanding.  We can (and do) complete each other’s sentences.  We pick up wherever we left off, with never a worry about who called who last or how long it’s been.  And in a keepsake box upstairs, I have her letters and cards that mostly began when we each went to different colleges and have continued with this most recent card, with this scripture inside -  I always thank my God for you and for the gracious gifts He has given you.  1 Corinthians 1:4

Why She Mattered To Me

The first time I ever heard gospel music was during the 1988 American Music Awards when Whitney Houston took the stage to sing “Wonderful Counselor” with her mother Cissy Houston and brother Gary Houston. There was no YouTube to turn to then, but every time she appeared on television, I recorded her live performances on VHS so I could experience her soul-filled voice over and over again. Of course I loved all the pop hits like everyone else, but it was when Whitney sang gospel that I was moved to tears. Spirit and God make sense to me in the rousing rhythms of gospel music. And Whitney gave me that experience.

And then, she introduced me to BeBe and CeCe Winans, followed by Luther Vandross and Anita Baker and the list goes on and on and on of inspiring music that came into my life because of Whitney Houston.  Like many, her songs are my life’s soundtrack.  But so much more than her recordings are the live performances that were so very special to me, including the two times I was able to hear her sing in concert.  Not surprisingly, if you know me…I still have the tour book and ticket stubs.

I remember being in my dorm room sophomore year of college watching the green glare of missile fire during live coverage of Desert Storm and not long after experiencing her sing “The Star Bangled Banner.”  It was frightening to watch war on tv.  Her voice comforted and once again inspired.  Months later she welcomed the troops home with a special concert.  I had crazy fantasies way back 20 years ago of being able to sing this song just like she did.  Doesn’t everyone have that sing-in-the-hairbrush or imaginary win-the-Grammy fantasy?!

And while The Bodyguard is the movie for which she will be most remembered, my favorite was The Preacher’s Wife.  With the Georgia Mass Choir, her version of Joy to the World is the best.  Ever.

Yesterday, there was such praise that Whitney brought the world to church.  But if we were listening, she did that every time she sang.  Her gospel roots and pure love of music were infused in her voice.  And in 2009 when she returned with new music and the brave spirit to try again after so many had dismissed her and ridiculed her, she sang of strength she didn’t know she had.  In 2009, I had survived five years since my husband died.  And there were many moments I wasn’t sure I could.  Again, she put to song words that resonated with me.  I was not built to break.

I couldn’t help but wonder yesterday, might things have turned out differently if she felt all the love that was being expressed for her, sooner?  In the coming weeks, the focus will surely turn away from the beauty of her home-going back to her failings.  But for a few hours, one day, we got a glimpse of the true unconditional love and compassion of her family and friends.  In her death, she reminded me to appreciate the people I have in my life while I have them.  And to let them know how much they matter.

Put A Stamp On It: A Month of Letters

Dear Blogworld,

What fun to do a little searching and reading and discover I’m not the only one who thinks good old fashioned, put a stamp on it, snail mail is worth the time and effort!  Everything seems to have a dedicated day or month, and however it came to be, I found that February 2012 is adopted as The Month of Letters.  I know…who knew?!  Seems like great timing since that whole ‘new year’s resolution’ phase is waning for most (if you’re one to make them in the first place, which I am not.)

So it’s February 2, and the challenge is to write one letter each day that the post office delivers, though really, what’s a few more?  There are only 29 days this month, and it may only take 5 minutes to jot a note to a friend of family member.  So catch up today, write two and then stick with the challenge for the rest of the month.  Here’s the challenge scoop courtesy of Mary Robinette Kowal’s website:

1. In the month of February, mail at least one item through the post every day it runs.  Write a postcard, a letter, send a picture, or a cutting from a newspaper, or a fabric swatch.
2. Write back to everyone who writes to you. This can count as one of your mailed items.

All you are committing to is to mail 24 items.  Why 24? There are four Sundays and one US holiday. In fact, you might send more than 24 items. You might develop a correspondence that extends beyond the month. You might enjoy going to the mail box again.

So write it, put a stamp on it, mail it and then let’s use the space here or here, to share what happens next…

Signed,

me

 

Papayalicious!

Yesterday I visited one of my favorite little shops that has a cozy space in the back I like to call ‘the paper room’. Every few weeks I find myself walking slow circles in this little haven, no larger than a walk-in closet. There’s a cozy worn yellow wooden bench that faces a wall of windows overlooking a small tree-lined stream, and if I had my way, I spend a few hours there reading and enjoying that view. But since this is a retail store and not a coffee shop, I instead meander loops around the glass case which houses (you guessed it) paper…rolls and rolls of paper covered with designs of far-away countries and butterflies and cardinals. Usually by lap number three I gravitate to a card that seems just perfectly written and designed for someone in my life.  And as I dedicate time each week to this new effort of actually writing in these cards I buy and mailing them, rather than collecting them in a big basket at home where they become helpless victims of procrastination, I feel like the loose threads of my life are a little less ragged and frayed.

On this journey through my ‘paper room’ I discovered the creator of these beautiful cards – Papayalicious!  Thirty seconds and a Google search later, I learned,  “Creative Abandon is paramount at PAPAYA!. Everything we make is for the joy of creating and the thrill of sharing.”  And when I find something this fabulous, I can’t help but share…most of the time.  (I’ll admit that the first card I purchased I kept for myself and have it posted on my bathroom mirror.)

Oh, and PAPAYA! has a blog too!  Although the first month of 2012 is nearly over, this post is a great reminder to approach every day with the fresh energy of the first day of a new year!

“Drift.  Allow yourself to wander aimlessly.  Explore adjacencies.  Lack judgment.  Postpone criticism.” 

Cloudy Morning Letters

This morning was one of those perfect sleep-in kind of mornings that on a Tuesday would tempt me to call in, sniff sniff, but on a Saturday … ahhh, it’s as if the rain and the clouds knew I needed some extra sleep. I’m so grateful they were on my side this morning and kept the sun away. Yesterday I was thinking about all the kinds of letters people write, or used to anyway. So on this perfect cloudy morning with my favorite lavender candle burning, and my cat ‘assisting’ as she loves to do…

…I thought I’d share a few letter ideas that each take just a few minutes. I plan to drop them in the mailbox later today and if you’re reading along and decide to jot some notes, I hope you share your thoughts below.

1. On Monday morning on my way to work I called a friend I hadn’t talked with in entirely too long. I was sure Monday at 9am probably wasn’t the best time to talk, but is there ever a really perfect time? If it’s tough to find time for a long chat, it can only take 5 minutes to jot a quick postcard that might begin, “Remember when we…”

2. Are you an “I’m sorry” kind of apologizer? Or do you say “I apologize” for your wrong doing? A friend animatedly explained to me one day that to her the “I apologize” apology was kind of the slacker version. I’m not sure I have a strong opinion either way, but I do have an “I’m sorry” to deliver and it’s time to write it.

3. Ah, the thank you note. It has been known to morph into a dreaded ‘what-do-I-say’ obligation which, when procrastinated long enough, slinks shamefully into a dark corner never to be authored or appreciated. Sooner is ALWAYS better when it comes to penning gratitude. The most fun ones to write (I think) are the random thank you’s … thanks for the surprise Starbucks card; thanks for keeping me company when I needed it; thank you for … something ‘small’ that made a big difference.

4. The fun note – “I saw this and thought of you!” Put the ‘this’ – a Yoga Journal magazine article, old college photo, funny cartoon – in your note and send it on its way. The item is just a nice little addition. The best part of the note is the “I thought of you” message.

Attraversiamo!

Attraversiamo

Like a butterfly on a spring wildflower
One day a realization came to rest upon me

Perhaps my discontent wasn’t a shame to bear
Or a cold stream of doubt in which to wade

If you were comfortable here, He whispered
You would have no reason to cross over

~ SRO – 1/15/12

So, what does this have to do with letters? Well nothing really, in any literal sort of sense. It’s just what came to me yesterday evening after a restorative, inspiring morning of writing and reconnecting with a group of women who bravely share from their hearts and encourage with supportive compassion. And then spending the afternoon trying to be a supportive soft place for a friend to fall. As I snuggled into my comfy blankets, not thinking anything in particular, that’s when this notion fell upon me. As I strive to be content and happy all the time, and get so frustrated when I’m not…perhaps the discontent is there to push me, to make me grow, to nudge me towards taking chances. And when several of those ‘whispers’ happen in one day. There is only one thing to do.

Listen. (ok two things…) Act.

Four letters and a violin

I’ve spent a fair amount of time recently on Google trying to discover all that’s ‘out there’ related to handwritten letters. I’ve searched for other blogs, magazine articles, how-to books, newspaper references and, well anything I can find that seems remotely interesting. While there seems to be a few little waves out there related to bringing back the handwritten letter, the tide certainly isn’t rising.

And that makes me sad. I can’t help but think ahead 20 or 30 years from now when someone my age doesn’t have that special keepsake box or cedar chest to open and wander back in time, one letter or postcard at a time, to remember relationships and memories and funny moments. I’ve always believed that the music I’ve enjoyed throughout my life is the soundtrack to my journey. And the letters and notes that I’ve saved, and that my mom saved for me since I was born, tell the story of my life narrated by the friends and family who wrote them. Status updates and photo albums online may last “forever”, but when you desperately miss someone, holding a piece of paper they once held and reading words they once wrote and experiencing those feelings again through the bend of their letters or quirky punctuation bridges the gap of time and space in a way the internet simply cannot do.

One of my most exciting discoveries during all this Googling was a violin concerto by Australian composer Brett Dean titled The Lost Art of Letter Writing. I’ve not been able to listen to the actual music yet but finding a composer who wrote music based on 19th century letters…well that’s just too exciting to me! Dean created the work with the inspiration that the solo violin would play the role of both the letter writers and the readers. The four movements of his piece are based on letters by Johannes Brahms, Vincent Van Gogh, Hugo Wolf and Australian outlaw Ned Kelly.

“In this age of rapid fire SMS contact, the title of the concerto seems to express a sense of regret about the loss of an aspect of our culture.” ~ Bonn General-Anzeiger

Off I go, in search of a recording of this work…

When In Doubt, Make A Fool of Yourself

Now here’s a new year’s philosophy I can embrace:

“When in doubt, make a fool of yourself. There is a microscopically thin line between being brilliantly creative and acting like the most gigantic idiot on earth. So what the hell, leap.” ~ Cynthia Heimel, “Lower Manhattan Survival Tactics”

A few months ago, I found this card at a great little shop in Leiper’s Fork, TN, and of course couldn’t pass it up. I haven’t sent it to anyone yet and on this first day of this new year I thought perhaps I’d use it to write a letter to me. It’s quite refreshing to welcome the first day of an even-numbered year. I tend to like these better; there’s something about even numbers that I find kinder and friendlier than odd numbers. I also prefer things that are symmetrical, so maybe that has something to do with it. Anyway, welcome even-year 2012…2012, 12 months…hmmm, I feel a list coming on!

Dear Sandy,
What are you waiting for?! Leap, jump, fall, make a fool of yourself…then get back up and do it all over again. Here are a few simple ideas/experiences, one for each month of this new year…GO!

1. Blog and share it
2. Take a rock climbing lesson and haul your ass up that wall
3. Put some $$ every month in the ‘Europe Fund’ so you can go there post-MLAS degree
4. Realize that everything you take personally isn’t personal
5. Take a kayak lesson in North Carolina
6. Embrace all the people you do have in your life – the blessings outweigh the missings
7. Make notecards of all those beautiful nature photographs you take
8. Give a week of your time and energy working with the Walkers in Mississippi
9. Write letters
10. Ask for help when you need it
11. Submit something, somewhere to get published – or many somethings, many places – stop thinking about it and just do it
12. By December, you’ll have completed your MLAS capstone and will be only one course away from your Master of Liberal Arts and Science from Vanderbilt…enjoy the learning!

Cheers to 2012! Now go leap!
Love,
Me

Dear Sandra

I have a stash of Christmas cards that I’ve purchased over the last couple years. I didn’t send any last year because I was in a bad mood and just wanted all the festive cookie eating and tear-jerking Hallmark commercials to be over. But tonight as I pulled the bin down from the closet in my writing room and pulled out beautifully scripted gold and silver cards, I couldn’t help but spend a few more minutes sifting through other Rubbermaid clear plastic bins full of … LETTERS! And cards, and photographs, and old report cards and so much more.

Once again, it made this obsession for handwritten letters that has overtaken me these last few weeks seem all the more destined to be a significant part of my life in this coming year. Quick tangent…is this what happens when you get really passionate about something? I haven’t gone to sleep before 2am in a week! I rediscovered a wonderful little book about handwritten notes that has been in my office, looking over my shoulder for a year and a half patiently waiting to be rediscovered. And I can’t help but wonder if this is at least partly the result of quieting my world over the Thanksgiving holiday. I uninstalled Facebook from my phone, reset all my settings so I wouldn’t have email messages buzzing at me the whole weekend and I spent time really talking with my mom and reading before I went to sleep at night.

And now I’m completely consumed by the idea of exploring handwritten letters I’ve collected and saved since childhood. And even more importantly, reconnecting with my closest friends and writing letters. Tonight as I carefully lifted each sheet in my treasure hunt through aged paper and actual printed photographs, I found an envelope from my Great Grandma postmarked July 23, 1990. She always mailed Holy cards in every piece of mail she sent, no matter the occassion. I remember that my parents and I always laughed opening her cards because things always fell out…Holy cards. It was always comical to see many there might be stashed in each card. Tonight as I looked through her envelope, a card fell out. Twenty-one years later, I feel like the message she wrote (above) and the prayer she sent was just waiting for me to find it tonight.

Signed, Sealed, Delivered

The other day I heard a woman call a self-help talk show host on satellite radio trying to understand the ‘why’ behind her procrastination to start on her GED. After many minutes of explanation and the caller’s repeated frustration at not understanding the ‘why’ behind her behavior, the host simply asked, “Why do you need to understand why?” She advised the caller that all the time she is spending trying to understand why she won’t just get the work done is procrastination; procrastination fueled by her fear of failure. So if she doesn’t ever start, she can’t fail.

I haven’t quite figured out why I’ve traveled down such a road of lonely isolation this year. I’ve retreated in every imaginable way, leaving (what feels like) such a large chasm between me and my friends, my coworkers, the places I typically like to visit and activities I typically enjoy. But I have retreated into what feels like a dark cave. Just last week I realized this so vividly when I participated in a writing group I used to frequent on a monthly basis. At this gathering, there were just five of us meeting for a casual morning of writing, sharing and holiday celebrating. With the prompt of the first exercise I was paralyzed – my pen hovered over the paper, incapable of bringing any words to the page. I felt full of anxiety at the thought of trying to come up with something ‘good enough’ to read to the group. Maybe this was just a mild case of writer’s block. I’m not sure since but I don’t recall ever experiencing anything like this.

For the past year, during my ‘retreat’ I’ve withdrawn from socializing, given up on ideas I half-heartedly began and then dropped for fear of … I’m not even sure what. So here I was in a safe, encouraging writing environment with a group of wonderful women, and I didn’t know how to be. I didn’t know what to say, what to ask, how to engage. I kept hearing the line from Top Gun – “Engage Maverick! Engage!” And I thought about when I first joined the group a few years ago. Sure there was some trepidation about sharing my work with a group of women I perceived as very talented. But that hesitancy didn’t paralyze me then like it seemed to now. For several years, I looked forward to every minute of the three hour writing session. And here it was, 9:45am and I wasn’t sure how I was going to make it through the whole morning. It’s such a cliché to say it was a wake-up call…but I was jarred in a way that I haven’t been this past year.

Those hours that morning were like when the ophthalmologist finely tunes the lenses to the clearest possible prescription and suddenly the big ‘E’ is crystal clear again after being fuzzy for so long it seemed normal. I may not know why I’ve cowered in a dark cave this year, hiding away from my friends and new experiences. But I know that I can’t keep doing this. “Engage Maverick! Engage!” Oh, and I need to add that I’m completely convinced that the cold blast of technology that I’ve inhaled hasn’t helped either. Yes, I’m going to be one of those people who accuses social media and smart phones of deteriorating everything beautiful about authentic, connected relationships. While in my cave, I thought I was connected because I read status updates and ‘liked’ lots of them. But when is the last time I spoke to most of my closest friends on the phone? When is the last time I wrote them a letter?

…and that’s when I paused…

What if I wrote letters? And what if I wrote about what happened as I sew the threads of my life back together through letters? Then that voice started…you know, the naysayer that lives in everyone’s brain. That’s pretty nervy to think you can just start writing letters and birthday cards and anniversary cards and think that makes up for all the ones you didn’t send. But this time, instead of letting that voice win, I told it to shut up! And then I thought…what if while I’m writing and reconnecting and seeing what happens and writing about what happens, what if I also take a look back at letters I still have from college friends or my great grandmother who always sent Holy cards with her letters? What if I revisit my grandmother’s journal with her handwritten notes of favorite poems and quotations and details of dinner parties she threw in the 50’s? What if in the creating of new stories through letters, I remember and honor old stories I’m still able to revisit in the letters I have saved? I’ve started two blogs in the past year or two. I posted a few things, felt completely befuddled over what I was ‘supposed’ to write about an eventually deleted them both while venturing further inside my cave. But this letter writing journey feels like a purpose. It feels like something I cannot NOT do.

So let’s see what happens… I’ll drop the first letter in the mailbox this week.