Reverb 13, Day 2: Nourishment and the BEST moment

The prompts:

1. The way we nourish ourselves determines our ability to shine our light in the world. And nourishment doesn't just come in the form of food and drink and sunshine; it's equally important to nourish your spirit.
What made your soul feel most nourished this year?

2.  Shine: What was the best moment of 2013?

 Ah, nourishment of the soul: what feeds my spirit? 

 The arts, short answer. Theater, books, magazines, movies, music, even television. Creativity unfolding in story, notes on a scale, words on the page, actors and designers and directors creating timeless emotion and story. 

When I was recuperating from surgery, I literally could NOT do things and thus sat still for days. So I read more than I usually get to, devouring books and stories and articles daily and luxuriating in that freedom to just read. My first real excursion outside the house was to a play while I was still non-weight-bearing in a wheelchair. Nearly the first outing when I graduated to the boot and using a cane was to a play, the annual performance of The Vagina Monologues, held this year at Rolling Hills Casino. We watched movies a lot, have our favorite television shows.

They make me think. They stir my emotions and my beliefs. They help me find answers to hard questions, and ponder paths and options. Bits of music -- yes, even the dreaded earworms -- help me through difficult times and even pain (my iPod was with me in the hospital and got me through some hard and noisy hours). 

I am challenged and found and redeemed by the words I have read and seen this year, and I am so grateful for the ability to see and to hear them. 

The best moment of 2013: hmmmm.

I think the best moment was when we drove to our favorite Oregon coast spot in Bandon on our 13th wedding anniversary to spend a few days, and seeing our glorious Mama Ocean rolling in. It rained quite a bit while we were there, but we watched her from our windows facing in two directions and went places anyway. We met by the ocean 16 years ago and were married on the ocean. She never fails to settle our spirits and minimize our worries and fears, and we've happily spent many more days this year on her coast than we have in some time. But that day, May 20, we had come through months of surgery recovery and work and worry, and it was so good to be together by our beloved ocean and not to have a list of chores to do. It was a beautiful time away and apart from everything else.

Once in a Blue August Moon: Day 6 -- Zeniths and Nadirs

The prompt: The zeniths and the nadirs. Where have the highlights and low points been for you so far in 2013? Where are you now? How would you like your year to end?

Actually, you'd think I was on antidepressants (I'm not): I haven't had moments of great joy nor of great sorrow this year, and I'm oh so good with that continuing.

I have had moments of tremendous gratitude, like when I came out of the anesthetic after surgery, gasping and sleepy, but so glad I was awake and alive and all right.

Quiet and all-encompassing feelings of gratitude and enormous contentment at very ordinary things, like sitting with my honey and kitties, watching a favorite television show, in a darkened great room with woodstove firelight flickering; tiny white lights high above the stove in a built-in alcove silhouetting the angels I have sitting there, some from my mother including one painted by one of her close friends (both of them now dead), another from a wonderful former client, and all watchful and comforting.

Pleasure at attending a live theater performance -- we don't miss many, if any -- from the Cascade Theatre or Riverfront Playhouse or Shasta College in Redding. The variety of plays and talent is broad: some are fun because the cast members try so hard; others are memorable because the acting is so professional; others reflect such amazing talent in the script. Occasionally, as in "The Women of Lockerbie" which we saw yesterday at Riverfront, and "Fiddler on the Roof" at the Cascade a few months ago, both outstanding script and exceptionally talented cast combine for an unforgettable and stunning performance. I love watching live theater. I love being on stage in an amazing play even more, but those roles don't come often.

I've found little delights in mundane things: wearing a fun pair of comfortable shoes that make me smile every time I look at them. Savoring a piece of really delicious pie with good friends. Feeling sleek and stylish every time I get my hair cut in the precise, angled style I am wearing, greys and whites gleaming in the salon light, and swinging neatly as I walk. Stretching and moving in the dim yoga studio, imagining the muscles and ligaments easing into the familiar positions, and the spiritual grace of 'namaste' we offer at the close of the session. Loving the gleam of clean floors and fixtures after my friend has worked her magic on my house.

Clean, soft sheets every week and the cool green bedroom where we sleep every night, holding hands as we drift off. Reaching to touch my honey in the night, just grateful he is there and breathing.

Anticipation at traveling in our new-to-us travel trailer with our beloved kitties coming along rather than being left at home or in a kennel where they are frightened and surly because they are not with us -- and the comfort we all feel at being together in bed every night. The prospect of spending more than a week beside our mighty-mighty ocean in several campgrounds, reveling in the crash of waves, the salt air, the age-old power that emanates from its depths and stills our souls and minds.

There are low points as well, but far fewer.

Moments of frustration and apprehension: learning that I would have to have a general anesthetic rather than a twilight one just before I went into the OR. 

Times of worry and fear for a loved one who seems to repeat the same patterns without ever learning the lessons that I see so clearly. Ongoing grief for the loss of what might have been, and reluctant distrust in what I am being told and not told.

Anxiety and fear during episodes of afib that seem to occur approximately monthly, although they nearly always revert spontaneously within a few hours to a steady sinus rhythm. (And such gratitude that they do.)

Where am I now? I work daily on gratitude and calm and energy, focusing the energy where I need it most at that moment. I know that nothing is permanent; everything changes, and that the good (which I try to savor as it happens) will pass away as well as the not-good. I am grateful to be who and where I am, and overwhelmingly grateful that I am loved so dearly and deeply by a man who I love just as dearly and deeply. That is THE BEST of my life.

By the end of the year? More joy. More things that make me smile and feel happy. Any health apprehensions addressed and resolved, or at least treated. More awareness of how great a gift life is EVERY SINGLE DAY. More writing. More decluttering of stuff. More spirit.

Amen.

Reverb 11--Day 15-- Passion and Teachers

#1 Prompt: Passion: What did you become/continue to be sincerely passionate about in 2011? When you are in the moment doing something you love what does look + feel like? 

#2 Prompt: Teaching Moment - Sometimes we find teachers in the most unexpected places. Who surprised you as a teacher this year, and what did you learn?


#1 -- There was not much passion in much of anything that I did in 2011 -- this last year has been one more of just getting through it. I don't like feeling so uncreative and stagnant, so am planning to rev that up in 2012.

I was able to get onstage a couple of times, though -- two Vagina Monologues performances ("The Woman Who Loved to Make Vaginas Happy" -- I adore doing that one with all the fun moans and the fabulous audience response) and two Red Bluff mystery dinner theater productions of "What You Seize is What You Get."  And one read-through of "Night, Mother," a dark play about suicide that I'd hoped to do with a wonderful Redding actress and friend, but the producer decided it was too much of a downer. Our read-through had everyone in tears, however, and I think we would have rocked it. Ah, well.


When I'm onstage, however, everything else disappears and I'm just THERE, right THERE, and totally focused on what is. The words and actions and character just flow through me (assuming adequate preparation and rehearsal, that is) and out into the audience. I love, LOVE, that feeling, and when the audience responds, it is an enormous rush of joy and power. I've been told by others that I bring an energy to the stage that boosts not only my performance, but that of the whole production, and if that's true, it makes my heart glad. A live performance is thrilling (and scary too) because you get THAT ONE shot at it for that particular audience. Every show is different.


I love writing when I'm in the zone and all I'm thinking of is words on screen, but that is never, ever a one-shot best performance deal. It's totally different energy.


#2 -- I've believed for years in the Buddhist proverb: "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear." Understanding who the teacher is isn't always quite so simple, however, which makes me think of a quote from Robert Hunter's lyrics "Scarlet Begonias: "Once in a while/you get shown the light/in the strangest of places/if you look at it right."

One of my teachers this year was very evident: my yoga instructor, who is also a wonderful, very intuitive massage therapist, and an energetic, insightful, spiritual friend to boot. I learn from her with nearly every class, but also have enjoyed her company in other venues this year. She is straightforward, kind, open, and I so appreciate her presence in my life and the things I continue to learn from her.

Another teacher  -- categorized perhaps 'in the strangest of places' -- was an actor in the murder mystery production who showed me why I was where I needed to be this year and what really matters about it. I admit that sometimes my attitude in rehearsal was way less than positive, and the role was not particularly challenging, the play was  -- well, let's say it was, um, not meaty, and the director likes to direct on the fly, changing things right up to the dress rehearsal -- and beyond --. 

We talked at some length over several weeks, and I finally understood that the important part was the relationships with the cast members (even though it was a fund-raiser, and a very successful one at that): meeting and working with people of all ages and stages, and nurturing friendships, not the play itself, really. Most of the actors have done little, if any, theater in the past and aren't likely to do much more than another mystery dinner, but they are enthusiastic and talented and committed, with schedules that are far busier than my own. He definitely showed me the light, and I value his friendship and perspective.

Another 'teacher' this year was the April issue of O Magazine that featured poetry by Mary Oliver. That dark and stormy night when I read her poem "The Journey" was a life-changing moment for me, and I've been able to see more clearly what I must do ever since. I wrote about that 'aha' moment.

I am grateful for such teachers and I hope that I have the clarity of thought to recognize them when they are there for me. 

 

Reverb 11 -- Day 11

#1 Prompt: People: Who surprised you?

#2 Prompt:  What do you wish you had done more of in 2011?

#1 -- I really can't think of just one person who surprised me this year, but I have been surprised and humbled by several people. Compliments are hard for me to accept, I guess, and I am always surprised when I'm told how much I mean to someone, or how I've helped them, or how 'wise' someone thinks I am. I am so grateful for the friends that I have, and those whose actions I so admire and aspire to, so when someone tells me that I am a good friend to them, or I have offered advice that helps them, I sort of look around to see who it is they are talking to! 

And I guess that says more about how I regard myself than anything else. Maybe I need to work on that, hm?

#2 -- I wish I had played more, done more things that were just plain fun to do and worried about people and situations less. I wish I had done more writing in this blog, and also in planning what my book is going to be. I wish I had worked more outside in my garden and on landscaping for the yard. I wish I had done more theater. I get another chance in 2012.

Reverb 11 -- Day 8 -- Labels and Joy

#1 -- Prompt: What label/story/box/belief clipped your wings this year? How can you flip the script in 2012? What’s your new story?

#2 -- Prompt: Joy. Take us back to a moment in 2011 when you experienced pure, unadulterated joy.

#1 -- I'm pretty sure of myself: a strong woman, reasonably confident in who I am, what I love, what I believe. I believe in change and in growth. But my belief in who I am and what I can do was shaken substantially recently by a casual comment made by a friend during a committee meeting.

For three years I have participated in an annual theater performance benefit. I've performed the same role -- an outrageously funny, bawdy, even slightly shocking monologue that had audiences -- and the cast -- rolling with laughter. I love acting and am eager to do this piece again as well as more theater in 2012. I think I'm pretty good at it -- I've been told that by people whose opinions I respect, and the audience seems to respond well to my characters, both this one and others..

So. During the course of the meeting, as we were discussing how to get more people involved in the production, my friend commented, nudging me,  that …”we’re getting too old to do this.” I gave her a long look of – I don’t know – surprise? Shock? Denial? – and she added, “Well, I’m getting too old.”

Much later, the ice weasels started their partying, eventually settling into a steady chant of "You’re too old! You’re too old!”  It woke me up this morning an hour before I normally am conscious. And I began questioning whether or not I was indeed ‘too old’ to do not only this particular event, but pretty much anything in theater.

“You’re 64 years old!” they taunted. “You look ridiculous up there, saying such age-inappropriate things and making a total FOOL of yourself! Stick a fork in it, tootsie, you’re done! You’re too OLD to act anymore, honey, and nobody is brave enough to tell you!”

We don’t see ourselves as others see us. I see from INSIDE looking out at the world, and while that ‘me’ is not only perfectly capable of doing pretty much anything she wants to do, she also doesn’t feel ‘old’ (mostly). But I began questioning how OTHERS, especially those who don’t know me, might see me on stage, and concluded that perhaps I AM ‘too old.’ The idea just completely flipped my whole impression of who I am and what I should be doing with the rest of my life, and I didn't like what I was feeling or thinking.

I’ve talked since with a few people who I knew would be honest with me, and I’m not ready to throw it all in just yet. As long as directors cast me in roles and I’m capable of memorizing lines and blocking, I’m staying onstage.  I’ve never done well with labels since I never quite fit into societal or corporate boxes. TOO OLD is not going to be one I allow in my life either, not yet.

#2 – We vacationed on the Oregon coast this fall in a lovely rental apartment that had a full wall of floor-to-ceiling windows looking out at the mighty, mighty ocean endlessly washing over the little beach below our deck. It had been raining and blowing for a couple of days, and we had snugged in with plenty of food, snacks, and reading material.

One particular afternoon, I was propped with numerous pillows on the cushy chaise end of a sectional sofa that faced that glassed wall, and had an afghan covering my legs and feet while I read my lusciously long and detailed novel. Most afternoons I’d close my eyes for 15 or 20 minutes, dozing a little, relishing the quiet, the solitude, and pleasure of just being by the ocean and doing exactly what we wanted to do.

This afternoon, though, Tony had moved from a nearby chair where he had settled with his laptop to the sofa next to me, and put his head on my lap, the rest of him covered with another fleecy afghan. The ocean’s constant roar – louder that usual because of the storm – was soothing, the light was soft, and we were warm and together. With my hand lightly stroking Tony’s head, I closed my eyes and gave thanks for such a perfect moment of joy.

Family relationships: setting healthy boundaries

Family connections are still very much on my mind these days, partly because of the situation with my cousin, but also because of a play that I'm going to do later this fall titled 'Night, Mother by Marsha Norman.


The play is about suicide; it is just the two women on stage for the whole time, and it is powerful, dramatic, and thought-provoking. When we did the read-through, several people present, including me, were in tears. And we realized from that experience that suicide touches more lives than we perhaps realize. There are preliminary plans to involve suicide prevention groups and mental health professionals to encourage better awareness and speak to the issues that so often surround suicidal thoughts and behaviors.


Watch for more information and performance dates.

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I've also been contemplating family relationships, both extended and nuclear, and how we behave with those we are closest to. Sometimes we are most unkind to those who we supposedly love the most -- perhaps because we feel secure that we will be loved in spite of our actions? Or is it that we put down our mask within our family circle and reveal what is really going on if anyone cares enough to look deeply enough?


I also think there are givers and there are takers in every family, in every group. The givers -- of which I am one and always have been, sometimes not healthily -- will put others' welfare above their own in many cases and sometimes to go extreme lengths to make sure the needs of others are met despite whatever sacrifice it may entail. One of my daughters has done this in the extreme with most of her relationships, and they have cost her dearly in money, material possessions, time, and mental and physical health. She has not yet learned how to draw  boundaries. And I was probably not the best role model for her when she was young.


It took me a long time to begin to establish boundaries, and I'm still learning, but it is necessary to become fully who we are. (I continue to daily repeat Mary Oliver's poem "The Journey" about saving the only life I can save -- which is mine.)

This article speaks to boundaries, saying among other goodies: " You can’t set a boundary and take care of someone else’s feelings at the same time. You are not responsible for the other person’s reaction to the boundary you are setting."

It goes on to say that learning to set them is a process, and that you will do so as you are ready.

It's hard. It's not fun. But it IS liberating to take care of the only person I can really be responsible for -- myself.

There also are takers, who while they may give lip service to the needs of others, really want the attention to be on their needs, their wishes, their lives, and don't really want to listen to your stories. I've had experience with them in my family as well, although I'm finding that with some age and life experiences, some of the takers have achieved some balance in their actions and can give without expecting a return.

What makes us a giver or a taker? This article says it likely begins in childhood and how we are raised, what needs are met or ignored, how we are treated. And this one has some good exercises in how to begin to set them.

What is important now is that we can change. We can learn how to treat both ourselves and others with compassion and kindness. Setting boundaries is an act of self-love as well as an indication of acceptable behavior. It is not closing a door on a relationship, but rather an affirmation that both parties are important. 

All will be well, and all will be well....

The Steel Magnolias opening was spectacular. We had a great audience, helped, no doubt, by the wonderful food that Riverfront volunteers had prepared for them, and free champagne. They laughed at everything. They cried. One person said she'd been coming to openings for 30 years, and ours was the BEST (of course she could say that to every cast and we wouldn't know).

Nonetheless, we were pleased. Tonight starts the round of buy-out performances. We'll be doing the play five times a week -- three for the public, two for groups who have paid for private performances. Until June 20. I expect we'll all be sick of the characters by that time. I can't imagine doing a play for years on end.

But I do like Miss Clairee. I rather think there is more of her in me than I'd once thought.

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My brother and sister-in-law celebrate their third anniversary today. I wrote about it here, although not nearly as indepth as it might have been, but I was still reeling from both my mother's and my uncle's deaths and hadn't written much of anything since the previous October.

But it was a lovely day, a blessing in the midst of all that pain. And they've gone through some hard times since, with health issues and concerns over work that are the result of the recession -- just like so many people.

It's not the good times that make us strong, it's the tough ones and how we handle stress, pressure, uncertainty, fear. The good times may give us the knowledge that this, too, shall pass, however, and that there are still good things to come. But it's in the fire that we are shaped and tempered and glazed.

Today's Daily Om has a wonderful meditation on marriage. Among other bits of wisdom and observation are these:

"If your relationship is not secure, marriage will not make it so. Likewise, if your partner is not as attentive, loving, or kind as you would like, your becoming spouses will not change that. Marriage has no power to permanently fill any emotional or spiritual gaps in your life. Before you choose to marry, ask yourself whether you and your partner are adept at resolving conflict, can speak openly to one another, and fully respect one another."

In this day and age, it is common to live together before marriage -- indeed, my mother surprised the heck outta me in her later years when she proclaimed that she thought living together was a good idea! Even a committed relationship is not marriage -- although people stay in them for years and years. It changes things somehow, in addition to the legal matters -- or at least it did for us. It brought the sacred into our commitment, I think, and expanded our relationship.

(Maybe I haven't had enough coffee to wax eloquently this morning! I seem to be struggling for adequate words....)

At any rate, I wish them a happy anniversary and hope that "All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things will be well. " -- Julian of Norwich

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Summer is here, no matter the calendar. Triple digits forecast for today; swamp cooler is in full blast mode; north wind is keeping the humidity well below 20 percent. The garden grows measurably each day (as do the grasses in it, blast and damn). Memorial Day always marks summer's grand entrance, and the groceries were full of hot dogs and hamburgers and watermelon. Next is Independence Day. Time goes so quickly.

Playing catch-up

Damage to the garden was not disastrous as I'd first thought. Most of the plants are coming back, and the deer nicely thinned the seedlings. I should have lettuce by the end of the week, although with the hot weather we're having now it may bolt before I ever get it to the table.

So we planted tomatoes, zucchini, peppers, and are experimenting with cantaloupe, watermelon and pumpkins. I've replaced soaker hoses and hung prayer flags which flutter nicely in the breezes. We'll hope for a generous bounty.

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Mother's Day came and went without a post from me, although I'd started a draft. I'd put a photo of mother, my brother and me on my Facebook page that was taken just three weeks before she died in 2005. It is hard to believe she's been gone for going on four years now, and that this winter, my dad will have been dead for 10 years.

But I see them in my own reflection: in my fine, greying hair, in my hands that show a delicate network of aging skin and a few arthritic lumps, in my smile. I hear them in my head -- how mother always said she liked listening to the silence rather than music or television (as do I these days), how they preferred ice water to sodas or lemonade, for instance.

I think of them at my age: mother retired at 60 from teaching because daddy had retired at 65, and they spent the next 10 or so years traveling and playing. More than that, too, but those were probably the prime years, although even those saw some health issues for both of them.

That's not quite in the cards for us yet. Tony is in full hammer-down mode as he goes in early and stays late working on a new product release. I've finished up a few stories, but so much of what I was doing has dried up, at least for now, for various reasons -- the main publication I was working on has ended, and I'm just not sure what I want to do next. This last week or so the play has begun to take most of my energy, although that will ease some with opening on Saturday night.

But I'm trying to stay open to opportunity and possibility. I need to make some money doing something, whether it's selling on eBay or pursuing more writing. Doesn't have to be a lot of money -- although I certainly have no objection to money, mind you!

I've asked the universe yet again to provide and to help me be open. We shall see where this next step takes us.
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Summer is upon us, early this year. We've already had triple digit temps, much to my disgust. I just didn't get enough rain this year, and the early heat had me scrambling in my closet for something that wasn't long-sleeved and cozy. I'm still organizing everything, but at least the linen and cotton things are readily available now.

The last few nights have been wonderful, though, with cool breezes making for sound sleeping conditions. I do love our location, but the early heat is a little frightening: it will be with us well into October in all likelihood. We're all fearful of another summer of fires and unhealthy air because it is so dry.

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We celebrated our ninth wedding anniversary yesterday by going out to breakfast, since I had rehearsal last night and he worked late again. We'll go to the ocean for a little R&R later this summer.

But we always remember that day in the Bay Area -- which was unseasonably warm for San Francisco, but gorgeous. We laughed, we cried through parts of the ceremony (which we wrote) and at which my Uncle Tom officiated, aboard a yacht on the Bay. We ate. We played and talked and enjoyed the boat ride all around our favorite landmarks, and there were Oracle and Kensington colleagues as well as family with us to mark the day.

We both feel incredibly blessed to have found each other, and to continue to be so much in love at this age. It's not that we don't have trials and some hard stuff to deal with -- but it's never with each other -- it's issues with the girls or with work or health or property or something like that. How rare that is to have such a relationship! I am so grateful.

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In the midst of all the busy-ness it is sometimes hard to remember that THIS is our life, each day. Time doesn't stop because we are too busy to notice what is happening every day, every moment. When the product is released and the play is over, our lives will change again -- not really back to what they were a few months ago, but to where they are going every day with every moment and every experience.

It is essential to find even a few moments to appreciate what we have THIS DAY, to ask for what we need, to reflect on and remember how precious time really is. One thing that becomes increasingly evident as we age is that everything can change in a moment, with a heartbeat. it is up to us to choose how we spend our time, who we touch, what we do and say, how we express our gratitude. We have that choice every day.

Steel Magnolias is in preview tonight and we open Saturday. The play is about the fragility of life, I believe, and the relationships with others that can help us deal with the uncertainty and the choices we all have. I'm grateful to be in it once again, for the third time, to be forging a bond with the five other actresses who are in the cast. I hope our audiences take home with them the blessing of friendship and the appreciation for each day we are given.

Catching up

Did you know that more than 50,000 landline phone customers lost service on Thursday in parts of the SF Bay Area? AND cell phones. AND Internet. More here....

Sounds like we need Jack Bauer, Tony says. The news article says it was not terrorism and wasn't disgruntled union members, but it sure sounds like the perps knew what they were doing. A little disconcerting, I'd say.

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We finally got two burn piles taken care of today -- one big one that's had brush and branches and old wood heaped on it for at least three years, and a smaller one with garden debris. Beautiful sunny day after some nice rain the last couple of days. The garden isn't planted yet, but I've tilled deep and dug up all sizes of rocks. I swear this soil grows 'em. I rake out and pick out hundreds both spring and fall every year, but the tiller just pulls up more.

I'll plant early this next week -- lettuce, spinach, chard, maybe even peas, although I'm a little late for that -- but I'm not putting in tomatoes yet. Everything I read tells me that 'maters like warm soil, and that ones put in May 15 will soon catch up to those put in two or more weeks earlier. I'm also going to refresh my pots -- I think one of rosemary has seen better days, the lavender is not looking good, and I need some new herbs too. It'll be trips to Walmart and Home Depot for me this week.

I'll have some extra time on my hands too, since one of my regular freelance gigs is coming to an end with tomorrow's paper. That was a story every week, at least, plus photos, sometimes more. I will miss doing all those interviews, though -- I met some interesting people and learned about so many new things.

But I'm thinking about doing some selling on eBay -- stuff we have, but also looking at doing some bargain hunting and reselling, or maybe some consignments. Maybe not quite as steady an income, at least at first, but I know people make money doing it. And I do like shopping for bargains!

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I'm also driving to Redding five days a week for rehearsals! I'm going to play Clairee in "Steel Magnolias," at the Riverfront Playhouse. It opens May 23 and closes June 20, with performances Fridays, Saturdays and Sunday matinees.

This is the third time I've been in the play -- once as M'Lynn, the mother; once as Ouiser, the rather crotchety millionaire; and this time as Clairee, the 'grand dame' of the town and somewhat more elegant. I like her, although I'm still working on how to play her, and trying to recall all the Southern women I knew in Birmingham, especially some of the ones who were in my book club there -- they were "old money," many of them, and lived in the ritzy area of town, and we often met at country clubs. It was fun, they were very interesting women, and it certainly was a social sphere I wasn't in.

But the play celebrates women's friendships, and I love it. I like the movie too, but the play is better. I'm excited about being in it, and also excited that my daughter R is playing Truvy, the hairdresser! She's a little young for the part, but the director liked her, and I'm very pleased to be in another play with her. We did a few things together when I lived in Birmingham. She hasn't been in a play for maybe 10 years -- her job in Alabama was not conducive to other activities -- and while I did The Vagina Monologues just a few months ago, it's been a while since I was either.

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It's Easter weekend, so I always think about lots of church services and Easter dinners -- good memories. One year my friend Julie hosted dinner, and I brought stuff too, but for dessert she had made a bunny cake using a mold, with the whole bunny, not just the face. It was frosted and sprinkled with coconut, on a bed of green coconut grass with other little candy eggs and maybe even some flowers, but at the rear end, she had placed little black jelly beans. We laughed until we cried, and even now, some 20 years later, we always talk about it.

Blessings of rebirth, renewal, and spring to all of you. It is always a miracle to witness.

On stage! -- for a cause

I got back on stage Friday night as a participant in "The Vagina Monologues," a benefit performance for Alternatives to Violence, the local agency that helps women (and men) who are experiencing violence in their lives.

And wow. What a powerful experience. What a fantastic audience. What a GREAT audience!

From our little community, 387 people -- many of them men -- came out to see the show. That's a great response, especially when we weren't at all sure if people would come.

I wrote about the play for the Record Searchlight. I wrote about the accompanying art exhibit. Everyone helped distribute flyers and put up posters.

I got to do "The Woman Who Loved to Make Vaginas Happy," a monologue that includes a very fun section of different styles of moans. So I got up there with fishnet stockings, an all-black brief outfit underneath a leather jacket, and talked about moaning, peeing, and about finding your passion (literally and figuratively). I had a blast.

No, I never thought I'd be up on a stage demonstrating various kinds of orgasmic moans (The clit moan, the WASP moan, the uninhibited militant bisexual moan, the tortured Zen moan, etc.)

But I did. And the audience was right there with me, laughing, cheering, waiting for the next sound out of my mouth.

What a rush!

I've been in a lot of plays over the years, but I've never felt quite the power that I felt Friday night. It was good to be up there again, to be performing. I'd love to do more.

Tony says I transform into someone else when I'm on stage. I suppose all actors do, really, because it is ALL about being in the moment, being right there, fully present. I know several women in our cast experienced for the first time the power of holding an audience. One of them said, "It's like crack! It's addictive! I want more!" (not that I think this woman has actually done crack, mind you...)

It wasn't just for grins and the shock value that I did this, however, nor did any of them. "The Vagina Monologues" is one part of a much larger global focus on ending violence against women and girls, and our performance included a somber look at an unfathomably violent war that has been waged using women in the Democratic Republic of Congo, in Africa.

In our own homes and communities, there are women of all educational levels, all economic levels, all walks of life who are subjected to abuse and violence, from childhood molestation to emotional abuse to murder. Since we have been working on this performance, I have had friends and acquaintances tell me a little about their stories -- surprising and dark secrets from people who seem very together, very strong. Some of them have come through what Elizabeth Lesser calls "The Phoenix Process" to emerge new and better from the ashes of their former lives. Some of them are still burning, still shedding the vestiges of their violent and unhappy lives. I hope they make it.

If you have a chance to see "The Vagina Monologues" or one of the other plays Eve Ensler has written as fundraising vehicles for her Vday organization, please support it. You'll have a good time. But you'll also be helping a sister, a mother, a daughter, a niece.

Making downtime

I seldom stop doing stuff, even when I'm supposedly "relaxing" -- I fold clothes while I'm watching TV, or go through the stacks of magazines that accumulate by my bedside table or in baskets all over the house, or read the newspapers more thoroughly.

I'll watch Oprah or a movie while I'm cooking or cleaning the kitchen up, or ironing (something I don't often do, but with linen season upon us, the stuff just does better if it's ironed, even briefly).

My mother didn't sit still either, at least until painful osteoporosis forced her into a sedentary life. She sewed or ironed or read while she watched TV or clipped coupons, or something. So it's not odd that I do much the same.

And it's not even something I really MIND doing, usually -- it just needs doing, and for some of these chores, TV makes them more enjoyable.

But sit and read a book? Wow. Only if I'm sick, and then I'm usually really sick and sleeping, not reading. (Note: I read every day. I read the newspapers (two of 'em), I read magazines over lunch, and I have a huge stack of books beside the bed. I always -- ALWAYS -- read after I crawl into bed and before I turn out the light: it helps me transition into sleep, let go of the day and most stressors. Sometimes I can even stay awake long enough to read several chapters.)

But vacation is when I get to read as much as I want, or give myself permission to watch TV without doing something else. Last summer, when we went to Tennessee, I put a significant dent in the last Harry Potter book while we were visiting my brother, and plane trips -- irritating as they can be -- are hours when I get to read without the remotest hint of guilt.

We had a little taste of downtime this weekend when we visited a friend in Davis and went to see Phantom of the Opera in Sacramento. We wandered around Davis, visited the Arboretum, sat outside and enjoyed an al fresco lunch and then brunch today, and talked about nothing deep.

And Phantom was simply glorious, just as I remembered it being the first time I saw it on stage long ago in Nashville, Tenn. We reveled in the music -- played the CDs all the way to Davis -- and it's been playing again in my head all day today.

The weekend was wonderful. Restful, although not related to sleep -- which we did, and well, thankyouverymuch, but just in the down time. Being away from the little things that call to me all the time at home -- do a load of laundry, check the garden, wipe down the sink, clean the kitty fountain, organize the desk -- you know. Being away from the lure of e-mail and Web browsers, from notes that need to get written into articles.

Honest-to-god down time.

We've got a longer escape planned for later, and it shouldn't require doing anything other than watching ocean waves and reading the Jodi Picoult novel I've been saving for such an occasion. I can't wait.

Meanwhile, there's a laundry basket full of clothes that need to be folded. Let me check what's on the DVR...

Snippets here and there

Little bits of this and that for a Monday morning....

We went to see Peter Pan last week in Redding, part of the Broadway series for which we've had tickets for some four years. It has been a wonderful investment and we've seen some fabulous shows -- the first one in this series, The Producers, was one of the very best. We're also both very fond of Cats which we've seen twice in this venue.

Peter Pan is a cute show -- I remember seeing it on television, as a child, with Mary Martin as Peter Pan. It was first telecast live in 1955 and re-staged live (by popular demand) in 1956, and then was broadcast infrequently with the last one in 1989. There have been other Peter Pans over the years, including Mia Farrow in an all-new version in 1976 that never caught on.

I admit to being a little disappointed in this production, although it's still a delightful evening. But I didn't think the choreography was up to the standards usually seen from a touring production, and it just didn't sparkle.

There are still four plays left in this year's series, and I'm looking forward to them, but especially Gypsy in March and Chicago in May. Wish they had something similar in Chico -- it makes for very long days for Tony when he goes to Chico in the morning and Redding at night.

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Lately I've just craved sugary stuff -- not a good thing. I want cookies...candies...cake...anything sweet. Of course sugar is addictive! I know this. And I really do try to resist the urge, and seldom keep any of the above in the house. My dad had a very sweet tooth, also not a good thing since he was diabetic, and while he did really well most of the time, he did love ice cream at night, or cookies. I dunno if such cravings are genetic, but if so, I got it. I'm trying to eat sensibly and control portion size -- and mostly I do. But it's really hard sometimes. Maybe it has something to do with winter and comfort foods?

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What a wild ride the weather has given us lately, from our wind storms early in January to the more than 2.5 inches of rain we had in 24 hours this week! I'm now recording rainfall amounts for the Tehama County Resource Conservation District, and it's been quite fun to see the amounts we're getting. We need the rain, even after some good ones, and I'm glad to see it. However, I'm also glad (and surprised) to see sunshine today, even if it's a little chilly (45 degrees at this moment).

I like winter. I like the gray days and rain. We get so much sun and hot weather that I feel like I need to soak up the cool and wet days. I like having the woodstove radiating heat throughout the house, and making soups and stews and the occasional loaf of bread (nothing better than hot bread with butter...unless it's hot cookies -- which are NOT conducive to healthy eating). I love clean sweats and fresh flannel sheets, and sleeping in cold rooms when I'm snugged under the comforter next to my honey's warm body. (and why, oh why, are men always like little furnaces? The only time women are is when they get hot flashes.)

I love watching the hills turn green from the rains -- something that after 10 years in California I've finally gotten used to, after a lifetime of brown, dead vegetation during Midwest winters. I like the stark sculptures of bare tree limbs against that green.

And the snow! We're not high enough to get it (although snow flurries have been forecast for this week at times and Redding has been snowed on several days this winter), but it's lower on the surrounding hills than we remember seeing since we've been up here. The mountains are gorgeous on these sunny days -- they sparkle with the white stuff! And the mountain mama Mt. Shasta rises high above everything on the landscape, covered with her pristine mantle.

Mind you, I don't want to live in it, but I like to see it.

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My desk is still piled high with Christmas cards, papers, newspaper clips, and various reminder lists, and I'm slowly working through the piles. I did get the office pretty much sorted out and cleaned up, and these are the last bits. I admit that I did not send holiday letters -- several years ago I started sending them just after New Year's, but partly because the power outage threw everything off kilter, I didn't get them out, although it's written. I'm thinking that maybe I'll send out a few for Valentine's day -- just to the friends and relatives who wrote us nice notes and letters. I swear I don't know where the time goes. It's nearly February already.

*****************

I'm working this year (again) on being where I am: not anticipating the future nor worrying about things I can't change, not obsessing on irritating or worrisome behaviors of other people, but just trying hard to savor the moment of where I am, and being positive. Life is short as it is, and seems to go faster the older I get. I'm trying not to waste a moment getting wrapped around the axle by other people's actions and choices, and negative outlooks. If that makes me a big Pollyanna, then so be it.

Cycles of living

I'm aware lately == especially == of cycles. Not the kind you ride, at least literally, but the ebb and flow of life, of events, of seasons, of acquaintances and friends. Maybe it's the changing of the seasons, winter to spring, and the garden. Maybe it's the half-birthday this month that makes us both eligible to withdraw funds from our IRAs without penalty, and the knowledge that in another six months, we both hit that next big "0." Life goes on.

All the little plants in the garden are thriving, loving the sunshine and warm temperatures. Even some of the little deer-bitten nubs are growing leaves -- yes, I planted several of those poor little victims. I picked a big bag of lettuce tonight for dinner and a few marble-sized radishes. Each lettuce variety has such a distinct flavor! I love it fresh like that.

In the part that just got planted, there are sunflower and swiss chard seedlings already popping. The zucchini and the cucumber starts are already several inches bigger. And we should have abundant peppers -- lots of red, a few green, two Hatch, and one hot. I love seeing them respond to the sun and the water.

Events: we're back to the Art and Wine festival already; the Arts Council is moving towards membership dues time again and another ArtsTalk newsletter (when I get time!); I was hearing about graduations and vacations today. A school cycle completed. Seems like a long time ago that I was involved with school, either for myself or for my daughter.

This weekend I see my friend Julie from Indiana who is coming to SF for a few days with another friend. We've been friends for about 25 years now, and I love how we just pick right up where we left off, still on the same wave length. I hate driving to the Bay Area and don't like driving in downtown SF because I'm always watching for those one-way streets and terrorizing cab drivers, and because it's always crowded and I inevitably have to pass my destination up and go back around again. HOWEVER, I want to see her and we will have a good time. We're doing some different things this time -- probably a choral evensong at Grace Cathedral, an evening performance of Beach Blanket Babylon, who knows what else. (She turns that "0" decade in just a few weeks...so I'm bringing her a photo I took of her and our friend Kay when I was in Indiana last October.)

I've written before about reasons, seasons and lifetimes. I think Julie is a lifetime friend. And I feel as though I have an abundance of good friends right now too - actually, I feel as though I have more friends now than at any other time in my life. What a blessing! I hope I give them back the joy and blessing that they give me.

Another cycle.

I feel the changes in my body as I age, too -- the legs that once were smooth and firm all the way up have ripples in the thighs and lumps in the calves. I haven't had a proper waist in years. My neck shows that I'm no longer under 40...or 50... The hair, while turning an enviable mixture of gray and white (according to my hair dresser and various friends who are surprised to learn that I don't highlight it at all), still is gray, and I was asked today, for the first time, what color my "natural" hair color used to be....GAK! Y'mean it doesn't show anymore for all the gray? You can't tell?

Another cycle.

I'm aware that life gets shorter and shorter as the months go by. I'm aware that I am cozying up to "senior citizen" status. I'm aware of aches and pains that 20 years ago would have been unremarkable, and now are noted and sometimes researched, and discussed with physicians.

I'm aware that my opinions are sometimes shaped by events that are more than 30 years old...that I have shoes older than some of my younger acquaintances.

And yet I really try to keep a fresh outlook, try to be open rather than judgmental (usually not terribly successfully), try to be accepting and tolerant of differences in actions and beliefs.

And yet. I simply fail to be very understanding when people pretend ignorance of process and rules because they're either lazy or self-serving. I am very intolerant of those who search for a way around some rule or process they don't like or who fail to be truthful and honest in their dealings with others, especially with clients. I just don't understand people who see nothing wrong with walking all over someone else in order to get what they want -- and I'm not very kind about saying so.

Maybe I'm turning into one of those opinionated, fiesty old women? I know. I'm not old. Not yet. I'm not sure when "old" is -- but it's about 20 years older than I am at any given time.

So here we are again -- new beginnings and second chances. Another cycle of spring into summer. Another season of the year. Another chance at becoming and learning and giving and loving. It never gets old, even as we do.

I've been reading magazines, magazines, magazines!

Last of the season

That would be Redding's Broadway series season...the last play of this series was tonight. It was Cats, that wonderful Andrew Lloyd Webber musical based on TS Eliot's Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats.

I think I've seen this play about five times now and each time it's been a little different. It was in Redding a few years ago too, and we agreed that that production was better than the one tonight. It seemed like there were a lot of glitches -- slight, but there -- and the actors simply didn't transform well into cats through their mannerisms and expressions, with a couple of notable exceptions.

The Growltiger sequence is one of my favorites, and Growltiger and Griddlebone were simply wonderful, posturing all over the stage, singing fake Italian opera beautifully. But the attack by the Siamese just didn't have much effect -- no bright blue eyes, no sampans and junks. It seemed fairly unchoreographed.

Mr. Mistoffelees, the magical cat, wasn't very. Oh, he was glittery and could dance, but I've seen productions where he does magic tricks, entertaining the audience far more than merely spinning and jumping.

All that taken into account, I still just loved it. It is imaginative, the music is wonderful and tells these cute stories, the singing is marvelous-- and Grisabella's Memory was just knock-your-socks-off tonight.

The lithe, flexible, young bodies that prance and pounce and slide and slink all over the stage send a youthful energy into the audience, and while you know they're not cats, they ARE young people having a wonderful time.

Some of the cats tonight reminded me very much of my own cats -- especially Grizabella, who limps, is tattered and tired. Our little grey Hermione -- always the most fragile of the kitties -- is not doing well. Her back legs don't work right, she's lost weight, her eyes are nearly blind, and she valiantly goes from one place to another, simply resting where she is when her legs fail. I cuddle her daily and talk to her, and she responds -- and just when I think I'll find her dead, she appears at the back door, stretching up on the screen and asking for her wet food (she's the only one who gets it). Both Grizabella and Hermione are little fighters, survivors in spite of difficulty.

There were bits and pieces of McMurphy and Cheswick, the much loved, very pampered inside boys, in various of the characters. And we recognized character traits of Weasley, the affable ginger manx, and staid Lulu too, along with skittish little Muggle who has become even more of a recluse.

It was a nice evening. We will look forward to the new season in September -- it's always a treat to go.

Happy St. Pat's

Well, it's the annual drink green beer and kiss everyone because everyone is Irish today...St. Patrick's Day.

I've got my non-alcoholic, non-green beer in hand and am letting all the stress of the last few months go...Missoula is done for another year. It remains to be seen if the Arts Council actually makes some money from it this year -- but there were several of us who worked hard to make it happen.

The kids were cute. They did well. The storyline was a little weak and perhaps reached a little too hard for laughs. But I heard over and over again from parents and grandparents how much they appreciated us bringing it here, how their kids/grandkids loved it and look forward to it every year. That makes it worth the work. We're accomplishing something here.

AND, I'm happy to report, the Chickie Trucker is safely in Birmingham. She left Sacramento Thursday morning and just drove. It helped that the weather was unseasonably cooperative! But she pulled in this evening and is safe, the car did fine, and we're grateful. Hopefully she can take what she's learned over the last two years and make a better life for herself.

So it's onto the next thing for us all.

I'm aware of the anniversary of my uncle's death creeping forward...every day I think of it and think of his family, knowing a little too freshly what it feels like to go through. There are two dates, really -- March 28 when he fell and March 30 when it was all over. It doesn't feel like a whole year has gone by since then, but here it is.

These mile markers -- anniversary dates, birth dates, death dates, other days of significance -- come faster now. It's like watching signs from a car window -- you can read them easily and slowly when you're cruising at 20, 30, 40 mph. When you get up to 50, nearing 60, the words start to blur a little and it goes by maybe even before you've read the whole sign.

As I watched the kids rehearse this week, and talked with their parents, I remembered my daughter's first role -- at three years old, she was a lamb in the Christmas pageant. She had a line even. There were roles and plays throughout school, at different ages. One year she was Dorothy, cute in her braids and ruby slippers, in maybe fifth grade. She was serious, earnestly learning her lines, learning how to act. I saw every play at least once. And nearly every one in college (she was a theatre major!)

I remembered juggling my job and after school care and summer care and church meetings and my choir stuff, and keeping the house reasonably neat, and still having time to sew for her and for me. I remember watching her with such pride, such delight in what she was doing. I remember the feel of her sitting in my lap or with my arm around her, encouraging, supportive, delighted to have her at all! I loved reading out loud to her at night and answering her questions and giggling at silly things we'd make up.

It makes me so very aware of time and ages and stages.

There is more I need to do in this life. I want to make my time filled with fewer of the 'ought to' or 'hard to say no' things, and a lot more of the 'feeding the soul' and the joy-filled things, the creative, delight-full moments and projects.

And only I can make that happen. Starting tomorrow.

*sigh*

Irish playwright George Bernard Shaw wrote, "Life is no brief candle to me. It is a sort of splendid torchwhich I have got a hold of for the moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations."

And for this St. Patrick's Day, this blessing to you: "May you have the hindsight to know where you've been, the foresight to know where you're going, and the insight to know when you're going too far."

Yeah.

Life reminders found in "Rent"

What a night. We saw Rent at the Redding Convention Center, and it was absolutely awesome. Great set, unbelievable energy and TALENT bursting out of every pore.

And lyrics that have such desperate hope, such determined optimism in spite of life-threatening trouble.

What grabbed me around the throat and squeezed hard was the 'Life Support" theme that ran through several songs:

"...There's only us
There's only this
Forget regret or life is yours to miss
No other road
No other way
No day but today.."

What a live-in-the-moment reminder! Today is what we have: everything changes; nothing stays the same. Be where you are.

And then, in the musical's arguably most recognizable song, "Seasons of Love," was this:

"You measure (525,600 minutes) in love...a gift from up above...Share love, give love, spread love Measure your life in love."

What matters in life is family, friends, and who/how you love and are loved. (Yeah, yeah, I've said it before, I know) But it is yet again another reminder to cherish each moment, to not sweat the small stuff, to remember that this is not a dress rehearsal, and you will get out of life what you put into it.

One day at a time. Today is all we have. Eat the second dessert (at least once in a while). Tell your closest friends and family that you love them. Show them. Do not squander your life with regret over what has happened. Remember the past, plan for the future, but BE FULLY IN today.

**climbs down off the soapbox enroute to bed***

It's magazine week ... March O Magazine is bedtime reading.

Oh, the energy of youth!

Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat was tonight's offering at the Redding Broadway Series, and it indeed was amazing!

I'd never seen it, although I'd heard snippets of music from it over the years. Music is by Andrew Lloyd Webber, one of the most versatile composers of our time. He wrote Cats, Jesus Christ Superstar, Evita, The Phantom of the Opera, among others, and an amazing Requiem that could not be more different from his musicals.

Joseph was so fun. It's the Biblical story of Joseph and his coat of many colors, and the stage exploded with lights and color and glitter. The musical numbers reflected country, Elvis, reggae, classical, and more. Portraying the Pharaoh as Elvis the King was absolute genius, and totally over the top. We loved it!

And the cast. Young, lithe bodies radiated talent, energy and enthusiasm, and the audience just sucked it up, hooted and hollered, and reveled in it.

Sitting there in the dark, I remembered being that young and seeing endless possibilities stretching before me. I could have done anything!

As a college senior, I'd planned to go to journalism school and into radio news -- aka the next Pauline Frederick (am I dating myself or what!) . Instead I got married and taught school.

But I could have been one of those kids. I had talent and drive, if not a whole lot of musical theatre training where I went to school. Maybe. Or not...

I soaked up the experience tonight, though, and realized --again-- that there are some opportunities that aren't going to happen, at least not in this life. My hair is silvery, my face shows the decades that have gone by, there are achy joints that wouldn't take that life very well. That particular torch has been passed.

But for a little while tonight, my heart sang and danced with those kids, and I remember all that youthful raw emotion, that constant roller coaster of feelings and decisions and relationships and plans and dreams. Nothing is impossible.

It's part of the cycle of life, that hard journey from enthusiastic potential to comfortable acceptance. There are a few parts I wish I could do a little differently, but all in all, I wouldn't change much. That's a pretty good place to be, I think.