Old Habits...

I seem to have hit kind of a ceiling with my blog, and I am going to beg my readers' patience as I try to work my way through it.

For the last three or four days, I have tried and tried to write, and indeed created two posts which I then discarded. This isn't a case of writer's block. I never have trouble starting to write, or for that matter, creating a complete essay. But the block is my old habit of self-editing out of the fear of rejection. It's my old habit of believing that if I am real, truthful, and fully myself, if I open up, if I am as fully expressive as I yearn to be, I will die or be left for dead.

Obviously, many more years of therapy may be called for here (!) but in a moment this epic, there may not be time for that. I think what is happening is that I am reaching a new plateau in my life, in my potential for leadership, and in my clarity about self and the world, and I have to break through the impulse to hold back.

The other thing is that when I started this blog in August of 2015, I spoke of how it would chronicle my "transition" from non-stop transition (never really having a home) to what I hoped would be stability. There is nothing in this world I want more than a real home! But I don't think I could possibly have envisioned the rolling turmoil that seems to have subsequently up-ended, at the very least, the two countries I love the most. A year-and-a-half ago, the outside world seemed reasonably stable, and I was the one on a "walkabout" to try to find my place. Now, the outside world seems to be in freefall, and oddly, my still-transitional self seems to be the only stable thing I can rely on. The path forward, the Liz Path, requires a slightly higher level of courage and honesty now, and I guess I'm gearing up to perhaps adjusting my blog goals and  writing a new mission or life purpose statement. Thanks for being there, and for being patient with me!

Getting around

One of the things I have noticed in my travels on the city bus is the high percentage of patrons who are mobility-challenged. Modern buses, with their raising and lowering stairs and wheelchair ramps, are a lifesaver for so many people. Talk about intersectionality; this is where the health care debate meets proposed cuts to urban mass transportation. This is literally about, how are people supposed to get around?

At 61, I think I have the average amount of arthritis and "aches and pains" discomfort, but I am fortunate compared to many of my fellow travelers. Yesterday, when I arrived at my job and sat down at the desk after an extremely snowy walk from the bus stop, I had one of those intense "epiphany" moments. What flowed over me in waves was immense gratitude that I have a body that is still working, and legs that get me from point A to point B. In kind of a flash, I recognized, literally, how far I have traveled in this amazing lifetime. I've lived in American communities huge (New York City), medium and tiny. I've driven across country at least four times, and set foot in dozens of states. I've studied in and visited England many times, and been to Spain, France, the Netherlands and Canada. For someone not much interested in fitness, per se, I've gotten around.

Even only 100 years ago, such far-ranging travel and freedom would never have been possible for a single woman, or perhaps any woman. And even today, some peoples' physical or life conditions may make travel nearly impossible from early in their lives. I felt tears of joy, almost bliss, that I've been so privileged. I am not very prepossessing to look at, but this body has been steady, resilient and perfect for this lifetime.

Many of my contemporaries focus on their bodies' weaknesses, and even for me that temptation becomes greater by the day. But I am trying, as in all things, to focus on what I want, which is to continue to get around for many years to come. There is still much more to do.

More Results

One of the gifts of writing this blog is that it can be like opening that old box in the basement. First, you flip through it and exclaim, "I didn't know I still had that!" and do a superficial sort. Then, you really examine each book, or read some of the letters, or do a more comprehensive job of reorganizing.

Here, when I "unpack" (I'm not really fond of this new usage, but it seems apt here) an idea in one blog, a more comprehensive analysis takes place in the intervening day or days and I sometimes can't help but return to it. Thus, today, some more thoughts about "results." I mean who, in the end, is the arbiter of what life "results" are successful or effective? What values do they represent?

I was thinking that if I were to create my own community, about five major qualities or goals would be its centerpiece (and this will come as no surprise to anyone who has been reading The Liz Path...)

• A focus on individual spiritual growth and wisdom
• Support for mystics and creators of beauty; musicians, visual artists, writers, dancers, playwrights, craftspeople...
• Support for education, educators, and higher education (exploration of the human condition of the past and future in the humanities and sciences)
• Loving and creative community-building
• The honoring of Mother Earth and the feminine principle in all its forms

So does that mean there would be no role for industry, technology, consumerism, the economy, medicine or the law? No, but they would be the "servants" of the above qualities, and be part of a context of promoting wisdom, beauty, education, love and protecting the environment. What about war and protecting people from terrorism? Way low on the list, because a new societal focus would probably lead to less fear and violence. It wouldn't be a case of disrespecting those with military gifts, or of slashing law and order arbitrarily from the budget. It is just that the need to "fight" would gradually diminish over time.

Of course, the beauty is that probably very few people share the same highest priorities. Each of you reading this might craft a very different list. That's the challenge, isn't it? With seven billion people on the planet and counting, how does any given country's priorities embrace the exuberant abundance of human expression? I guess the only thing I can think of is, respect. A "balanced" budget would literally spread resources across the spectrum, respecting that artists must do art, and musicians must do music, teachers must teach, and scientists must do science. Healers must heal, merchants must sell, and caretakers must care. And yes, the warriors among us must fight or protect others. If budgets included the resources for each citizen to have a realistic chance at "successful results" in their field, wouldn't it be interesting to see how our world would change for the better?

Lastly, needless to say my heart is in London today. But I was kind of sorry to see a "We are not afraid" icon making the rounds. Oh no, dear people, don't even focus attention on fear as it will draw more to fear. How about, "We are strong, united, loving and free"? Or words to that effect...

Showing results

Some days recently, I don't know whether to laugh or cry. It's not just the fact that the proposed budget slashes just about everything that I care about -- the welfare of women, children and the elderly, education, the arts and humanities, science and the environment -- it is the fact that these areas are considered by some to be ineffective because they don't show "results." 

I am the Queen of many things, including showing no results. I know all too well the punch to the stomach of being dismissed because your life and gifts are not important, and do not bring financial gain to your community. I mean, I am a woman with no children. I was a music major at Smith, an organist, and have my master's in historical musicology from the University of London (early Christian chant.) But my real passion is English cathedral choral music and I have played a tiny role in opening up the field to women. I've written two important articles on English composer Herbert Howells, taken care of my dying mother and other sick friends, and helped people through a variety of other transitions. I've painted several hundred excellent paintings, and taught hundreds of students important writing, art and critical thinking skills. I love this crazy old world of ours enough that I now write about it in this blog with my unique multidisciplinary "take" on things. And yet I have been expected to pay for most of my accomplishments myself, do my work on my own time, or have been paid only the tiniest salaries. I am not of value. I do not show results. Welcome to my "queendom."

I've been over this ground before, so I won't belabor it except to say this; I have survived. And this outsider journey has afforded me an almost unmatched opportunity to gain wisdom. To the people and institutions who may be most affected if this budget goes through, please remember something. Just because a single group of people thinks you are unworthy of financial support, doesn't mean that it is true. It doesn't mean you do not exist. It doesn't mean you are not valid. Quite the contrary. It says more about them than it does about you. In upcoming months and years, those of us who "do no harm" and engage in peaceful, creative or helping pursuits must try against all odds to keep doing what we do best. Give anyway. Feed people anyway. Create anyway. Sing anyway. Paint anyway. Think anyway. Teach anyway. Explore anyway. Protect the environment anyway. Love anyway. There will come a time when our "results" no longer need justification. They will be society's reason for being.

Thank you, bird

This is a really hard moment to continue believing that there is only one active "power" in the world, Love. The examples and policies of non-Love springing up before our eyes are so epic, so horrifying, that I go back to the word I've used before. Breathtaking. It literally and figuratively takes your breath away. Which is what non-Love specializes in.

I'm not going to talk about it all this morning except to remind myself of the Abraham-Hicks rule of thumb; when we are faced with "contrast" (what we don't want), we are given a great opportunity to articulate and focus on what we do want. I truly believe that the vast majority of people in America and around the world want to live in peace, to live collaboratively and comfortably with people of all backgrounds, and to be guided by wise and equitable leaders. But I cannot speak for the world. All I can do is say, "this is what I want."

This cold 6 degree F morning, as I look out at piles of snow nearly six feet tall, I hear, not a "dawn chorus," but just one bird. One very spring-like sounding bird. I cannot identify it, but the sound has immediately transported me south to a warmer climate. This one bird is singing "spring" despite all evidence around it to the contrary. Thank you, bird.

Snow in March

Make that, mega-snow in March. The interior of upstate New York and northern New England saw from 30 to 45 inches of snow; we are just starting to dig out.

This is the second worst snowstorm I have ever experienced, the first being the famous 1991 Halloween blizzard in Duluth. It was the same storm that eventually hit the East Coast as "The Perfect Storm," but in the upper Midwest, tiny innocuous-looking snowflakes started falling Halloween afternoon, and kids went out trick-or-treating in winter jackets and no one really thought much of it, but the storm intensified and went on for about three days. It took more than that for just the major streets to be plowed, getting vehicles out on the road and businesses up and running again. I had a car in those days, and the driving was bizarre. The piles of snow were so high that you couldn't see "around the corner" when you came to an intersection. But the most memorable aspect of that winter was that it stayed cold and snowy, with more and more inches added to the 36-40 that originally fell, so that it wasn't until late April and May that the snow started to disappear. As it did, grinning orange and black jack-o'lantern bags of leaves started peeping out of the diminishing grey-ish piles, having been left out near the street for trash pick-up six months earlier.

At least the remnants of the Tuesday-Wednesday storm are unlikely to linger more than a few weeks, but it is still kind of unnerving to experience it on the cusp of spring. Oddly enough, I have never been a fan of snow, despite a lifetime of it. I've looked with longing at the photographs being posted of flowers coming up in England, and down south. This wall of frigid white goes against one's inner clock somehow.

The best wisdom I've encountered in a long time comes from one of my favorite "gurus," Mike Dooley. If you don't receive his "Notes from the Universe," you must consider it (www.tut.com.) Here was today's note:

Primitive societies live by the Rule of Might, and the strong prevail.

Advanced societies live by the Rule of Law, and the privileged prevail.

Enlightened societies live by the Rule of Love, and everyone is lifted higher.

I have a feeling we are transitioning from a "Primitive-Advanced" society, to an "Advanced-Enlightened" one. At least that is what will keep me going the next few days in this winter wonderland!

A Can of Tuna

About twenty-five years ago, I had this "aha" moment that shook me to the core. I was living out in Minnesota, and had just been grocery shopping. I remember taking a can of tuna out of the bag, and having this moment of clarity: how was it humanly possible for this tuna to cost only a dollar? I mentally envisioned all the processes that went into it, from the building of the fishing boat, the production and purchase of fuel for the boat's engine, the production and purchase of nets, the hiring of experienced sailors and fishermen as well as workers at the fish processing and tin can-making plants, not to mention foresters downing trees to make paper labels, the production of ink, hiring the graphic designers to design the labels, the printing process, the canning and distribution processes, building and sustaining the corporate offices and employees of all the companies involved...Even given the fact that the fish give their lives "for free," I could not fathom how this one can could be so inexpensive. Over the years, my favorite businessmen tried to explain volume and efficiency to me, but I was never convinced. Twenty-five years later, it is still possible to purchase cans of tuna for a dollar. Incredible.

I think it was at that moment that I knew that something about this picture was unsustainable, and it is one of the many reasons I have found it so hard to fully engage in our economy since then. Something just seems "off." I don't know exactly what this has to do with everything that is happening in front of our eyes; it's just that I think there is a connection.

On this snowy March morning, I have done something I should have done much sooner, which is to make a promise to myself. This is not just about tuna, of course; whenever I purchase any of the relatively inexpensive staples of everyday life, from paper toweling to toothpaste to tuna to teabags, may I at least send a quiet word of thanks to the dozens, maybe hundreds or thousands, of people involved in their manufacture, many of whom must be woefully underpaid. And may I give thanks to Mother Earth who has freely given the raw materials. Who, I wonder, is "paying" her?

"Fearless Girls"

Some day well in the future, when we have moved through the transitional age that we seem to have entered, each of us will be able to speak to what got us through it. For me, the sparkling breadcrumbs on the dark forest floor are the almost daily examples of women (and girls) standing up and speaking out.

I am almost speechless in my love of the sculpture unveiled on Wall Street of the "fearless girl" facing the raging bull. There are so many levels of meaning here; we can each find our own. The fearless girl in me salutes her, and all the girls and women now flocking to the site to have their pictures taken.

More fearless girls: the article below speculates that some previously unknown Renaissance polyphonic music might have been written by Leonora d'Este, the nun and daughter of Lucrezia Borgia. Musicologist Laurie Stras brings up a point I cannot believe I never thought of (with my own master's in historical musicology): to what extent was music traditionally attributed to "anonymous" actually written by women?

Listen to the recordings linked to this article, and take in the image of the nuns clustered, singing, around a choir book. We may never know for sure who wrote this exquisite music, but shedding light on this aspect of our choral heritage right now is timely...and so inspiring.

https://www.theguardian.com/music/musicblog/2017/mar/10/radical-motets-from-16th-century-nunnery-musica-secreta-lucrezia-borgia?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Facebook

My hours

For International Women's Day, I guess you could say I took another "retreat," although in a sec I'm going to deep-six that terminology forever. As I mentioned the other day, Wednesday was a day of spending no money, watching no TV and using no computer, and basking in a subject-matter that interests me. Even though I was vaguely aware of all that was going on in the world, I can say that I was contented in a way I haven't often been recently. The return to "reality" this morning was hard, and left me quite cranky.

I guess the question I've dealt with here before and that comes up again this morning is, whose "reality"? Over the years, I have frequently been criticized (mostly by men) for not "living in the real world." In a way, I've been on a one-woman strike for decades, just because I haven't "gotten" any of it, either the traditional marriage model or the work-like-a-dog-at-a-job-you-may-or-may-not-like-to-just-barely-pay-for-a-roof-over-your-head-and-some-food one. Neither of these paradigms, or most modern career paths, work for a woman with my particular skills and heart. I just want to think spiritual thoughts, write, sing and create beauty. That's all I'm good at, really. I'm happy to cook or clean or do chores to keep my community going. The profit model clearly does not motivate me; I don't want to start a business, I don't want to profit from doing these things, I just want to do them, as I have tried to do all along. And, yes, I say this proudly: I am too sensitive. I just cannot bear competition, fighting, litigation, confrontation, bullying, profit vs. loss, us vs. them, good vs. evil, the whole lot of it. Not for one more minute. If this is "reality," if this is what our society truly values, clearly I never did fit in from the get-go. Some of you may be thriving in this model, and more power to you. But I am sure there must be millions of women -- and men -- out there who are also exhausted with it. I've barely survived, had no safety net, and wish I could be an example of a woman who successfully found the third way, but as of this morning, I'm not sure I have.

Except. Except that finally I have started to claim this time to myself and inwardly validate it. Yesterday, for the first time ever "on retreat," I didn't feel at all guilty. I didn't feel I had wasted anyone's time. Instead, I created my own reality. I felt powerful. From now on, I will not consider these hours a retreat from other peoples' real world. I will simply call them my hours. My reality. Liz hours, Liz creation time. Those of us of a more mystical, introspective bent have been dissuaded from believing that an hour of our time, doing what we do well, had any value. Yet when we carve out an hour of peace, an hour of new insights, an hour of beauty, there is the potential (the law of attraction being what it is) to change the world.

Sure, protest, strike, take action, help people. But I believe the most powerful act of all, especially for certain women, is to claim our hours as our own. We have to honor their value to us, first and foremost, and as often as possible, even when no monetary gain is involved. We need to take the time to think deep thoughts, discover what we care about, experience peace, and create inner and outer beauty. Even "simply" envisioning a more beautiful world is a creative act. Those invested in conflict and constant competition will never value our kinds of hours, and we had better not wait for them to do so. Poor them.

Doing what I love

In one or two past blogs, I spoke about how totally crossed my wires were for most of my life. I tried and tried to "love" places, situations, and people that I actually did not love or were wrong for me, and turned my back on the places, situations and people that I did love. There are many reasons for this, and for the moment they are not important. But three years ago or so, with the help of a wonderful therapist, I started the really daunting process of reversing this situation. At first, I was like a deer in the proverbial headlights. I couldn't completely recognize what I did love, or the validity of doing what I love or loving what I love. Even to the degree that I began to see that this was something "people" should do, I wasn't sure I was worthy of it myself.

Anyone looking at my life right now would see few visible changes. I can't say that I am closer to having the life I would love than I was even a year-and-a-half ago when I started this blog. However, and this is a big however, there has been one change. Inwardly, I have finally crossed the line and can recognize clearly and immediately what I don't love, and what I do love. What little work I am doing is work that I love or enjoy or believe in. The few friends I'm in regular contact with are the ones I genuinely love and with whom I can fully be myself. I can tell the difference now, and don't rush headlong into that exhausting process of trying to love the (for me) unlovable or keeping a lot of superficial activities or people in my life so people think I am "busy" or "worthy."

I wanted to mention this today, because Wednesday is International Women's Day, and I understand there will be a strike. Now, while I won't "strike" per se (and I urge us to watch the implied violence of our words), I am going to make it another personal "doing what I love" day. I don't have any work scheduled, and I won't take any that might be offered to me last minute. I won't spend money, not because that is one of the activities of the strike, but because in my world, there would not be money in the first place. I will not watch TV or use my computer, partly because I know I will be exposed to things I don't love, and partly because I will be advertised to, which I do not love. If I can find a friend to talk with and we think we can avoid politics, perhaps a conversation will be part of the day, but if not, I'll stay on my own. I'll read a love story. I'll make a painting or a drawing. I'll listen to music and the rain that is predicted, or watch people walking by in the street. I'll sleep (with insomnia, I can always use it). I'll cook or bake something I love. I'll (uncharacteristically) leave the dishes in the sink and not clean up after myself or others. I won't try to fix the world. I'll just let everything be, do what I love, and let the day slide by as it will. It's a good excuse to practice.

A Saturday List

When a week leaves you increasingly speechless, I guess it's time for a gratitude "list of ten."

• I am thankful to be indoors and warm. It is approximately 6 degrees Fahrenheit, with strong north winds. Judging from the conversations I've been hearing on the city bus recently, not everyone is that fortunate. Top of my list.
• I am thankful for the two robins I saw yesterday, even though I know they were lured north by the 55 degree temperatures the other day. I hope the sweet pair either flew south again or have found somewhere warm to wait it out another few days.
• I am thankful that the choir of St. Paul's Cathedral, London, has appointed its first female full-time singer, alto (countertenor) Carris Jones.  The choir already had several female substitutes on its list, and it is not the first English cathedral choir to hire an adult woman singer, but it is arguably the most prominent one. I'm feeling both thrilled and a bit bittersweet. I know I absolutely would have done this ten, twenty, thirty or forty years ago had it been an option. But the situation is simply changing too late for me. At 61, I do not have the stamina to do that kind of intense performing/sight-singing five or six times a week. There's a future for my voice, but it isn't this. I'm thankful for the simple clarity of that, and I'm proud as a mother hen of Carris!
• I am thankful for how the events of the world are providing top-notch law of attraction instructions (more on this next week, I am sure.)
• I am thankful that my computer is "hanging in there."
• I am thankful for Time Team episodes. I just love them.
• I am thankful for several hours of "little kid" time yesterday. When you never had your own children, it's easy to convince yourself that you don't need to see the world through their eyes, but it isn't true!
• OK, number seven or eight can be where this list starts to fizzle out, but it's all the more important to keep going. I am thankful for some really good food the last few days.
• I am thankful for the opportunity to practice the organ for an hour yesterday. It was just a question of playing some hymns from the 1940 Hymnal, but it reminded me once again of my musical power.
• Ta-da, number ten. Once again, I am so thankful for this blog and its readers. Some days there are only two or three of you out there, sometimes a few dozen, but either way, it is so nice to know you are there.

Messages

The other day, I saw a pick-up truck that I haven't been able to forget. On the back, there was the message about this person's willingness to fight "enemies." There were also various decals on the windows with guns on them, and the vehicle apparently had a deliberate muffler problem so that when it accelerated, it sounded terrifyingly assertive.

Was I afraid of this truck or its owner? No. But it got me thinking about the word "enemies." I have searched myself pretty thoroughly, and have to say that it's a word -- and concept -- I simply do not understand. Do I have any enemies? From my perspective, I don't think so. Are there people and situations I prefer to avoid? Yes. Are there institutions, people and trends that I have to work extremely hard to get a high, loving (or at least an understanding, historically/spiritually thoughtful) perspective on? Yes. But are there people, or groups of people, that I actively hate? Seriously, I don't think so. Are there people or groups of people that I consider my enemy? I don't think so. It's like, I just don't even "get" the concept. I actually feel sorry for people whose lives are fixated on this kind of no-win stance, but I guess we all get to choose our primary message or motto.

Raw emotions and messages are inundating our spaces right now. There's no getting around that. It's taking an increasing amount of my time and life energy to simply put them into some kind of context, to separate out what is even in my vocabulary, much less my worldview. This "Liz Path," which I originally articulated as being about my quest to have a more normal, settled, focused life, seems to have morphed into a far more complicated navigation down some really foamy rapids. I'm on a shaky little rowboat, maybe even as shaky as eighteen months ago when I started this blog. But if I had to name her today, and give her a "message" for passing boats to see, it would be the S.S. Open-hearted, flowing down the river of Love. It's corny, and I'm still learning this series of life lessons, but that's my preferred vessel. That's my preferred message, even as the waves slam into the bow and the droplets soak me.