Today is the Day!

He said, 

“There are only two days in the year 

that nothing can be done. 

One is called yesterday 

and the other is called tomorrow, 

so today is the right day 

to love, believe, do and mostly live.

~Dalai Lama

He saw me before I noticed him.  By then it was too late.  Shocking red and blue lights swirled in the dark of night as I steered my car to the side of the road.

The officer approached. “Good evening, ma’am.  Do you know the speed limit here in this part the canyon?” He quizzed.

“45?” I said.

“Yes.  And do you know how fast you were going?”  He asked.

“45?” I said.  

[Officer laughs.]  “Well, now I wouldn’t be standing here if you were going the speed limit, would I? Let me help you out. When I first saw you, you were doing 57… and then you sped up! [More laughter.]  Where are you off to in such a hurry?"  

I think I was more surprised than he; still, I had no real excuse.  I was tired.  It was late.  I had worked all day and was coming home from a board meeting at Children’s Hospital.  My husband and wonderful canine companion waited for me at home. But what was the hurry? What was so important that I would go 20 miles over the speed limit without any awareness of how fast I was driving?  For that matter, I didn’t even remember the last 7 miles or so. Apparently I had navigated the familiar curves of the dark canyon just fine, but I couldn’t will myself to remember. Had I been in a trance?  I pondered this while the officer checked my license, registration and insurance.

He lectured me on the dangers of going too fast in the canyon—wildlife and fatal accidents and such—and he made me promise to “slow it down,” which I did. Then he let me go with a warning.  

The rest of the way home I minded the limit, conscious of my surroundings and the beautiful starry-night sky.  I turned off the radio.  I thought about the way we tend to rush from one thing to the next, never truly enjoying the present moment, the silence and beauty, because we’re focused on some future event, like what we’re going to do when we get home, or we’re thinking about something that already happened, a phone call or conversation.  We're zoned out, missing the strange and wonderful once-in-a-lifetime moments before us;  moments that could be filled with awe and gratitude but which, once spent, we can never get back. 

I’m reminded of this as we move into the holiday season, where the tendency is to spend our time in a planning state: checking things off our to-do list and watching the days on the calendar bring us closer to “the day.”  When you find yourself in this state, STOP!  And remember:  TODAY IS THE DAY… To make it happen… To give up who you’ve been for who you can become… To make your dreams come true. . . to LIVE!  

Today is the day.  Be glad and rejoice!

Still, I Fall

Black is the color

of my true love’s hair

His face is like

A rose so fair

He’s got the sweetest face

And the strongest hands

I love the ground

Whereon he stands…

~ Black is the Color

Irish Folk Song (modified for “him”)

Ah, Amore!  The agony.  The joy!  The blush of new love, the rush of romance; thinking of your beloved each moment of the day, imagining his hands touching every part of your body; anxiously awaiting the next conversation, the next kiss.  Falling in love is the easy part—any fool can do it—but staying in love, I think, calls us to fall in love again and again over the lifetime of our togetherness.   

I want to remember it all—each moment of awareness, each insight into his depth, each time my heart breaks open, just a bit wider, softened by the light of what’s real and true and vulnerable between us.  Like these five moments that pulled me in a little deeper, reminding me why I fell for my sweetheart; f-a-l-l-i-n-g in love all over again.

1. It’s both.  When he met my Grandmother I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.  But there he sat, knee-to-knee with the matriarch of our family, as she fired off question after question in her gentle, southern way.  “What do you do for a living?” “How long have you two been courting?” “Who are your people and will we like them?”  He answered each question with patience and care, and when she asked, “Is this a real thing or a play thing?”  He responded, “It’s both!”  Yes, he was serious about our relationship, he told her, but we also played and had a lot of fun together too.  Hearing this, my 80-something Grandmother took his hands in hers and just laughed and laughed. I. Fell. Madly. Deeply.

2.  Bald for a cause.  A participant with St. Baldrick’s Foundation, my sweetheart has been shaving his head to raise money for child cancer research for more than seven years.  This year he will be anointed a Knight of the Bald Table for his many years of service.  I love his philanthropic nature. I’ve known this about him since we first met while volunteering at Children’s Hospital.  But last spring as I watched him on stage getting his head shaved before a cheering crowd of friends and supporters, he glowed.  In that moment I understood what my friend Jenna meant when she described another as being made of “wind and light.”  He was.  It made me love him more.

3.  Minding the mundane.  We had big snow that day so I worked from home.  But under pressure of a big deadline at work, he ventured down the canyon in the dark of morning where he stayed all day.  Yet, after a tiring day at work, traveling in hazardous conditions, he stopped at the market for groceries and picked up dinner before heading back home.  As he helped me unpack the shopping bags, stocking our fridge with fresh organic produce, my heart melted in adoration for the Man who takes such good care of me. They say, in love, we each feel like we're the lucky one. I knew that I was. He minds the mundane with a patient and glad heart. I will never take that for granted. 

4.  Spooning the Furry.  I heard him in the bedroom one Saturday morning, speaking in low tones.  I thought he might be on the phone.  I had been in the kitchen cleaning up after breakfast and as I started towards the bedroom I saw them together, lying on the floor spooning.  “You’re such a good doggie,” he said, stroking the Furry’s head; “We love you so much.”  The dog was in bliss! I stood there watching them, bathed in sunlight from the open window, just hanging out together, until he saw me in the doorway and gave me a smile. I thought my heart would break.

5.  The brightest light.  For our first married Christmas together, I found a fabulous tree.  I had been busy that day decorating and making the house more festive when he took off for town.  He returned a while later with excitement.  “Look what I found,” he said, unpacking his shopping bags and lining the counter with two-dozen soft white LED candles.  Then he carefully placed one in each window of the house, even the super high windows close to the top of the cathedral ceiling in the living room that required a ladder to reach.  As I watched him move about with enthusiasm, to me, he was the brightest light of all.  I could not have loved him more.  Or could I?

Day by day, in a thousand ways, still, I fall…

Conspiracy of Love

Blessed is the season,

which engages the whole world

in a conspiracy of love. 

~Hamilton Wright Mabie

Can you feel it—the warm fuzzy glow of good cheer building from the first turkey dinner, jingle-belled advertisement and beautifully wrapped vision of holiday bliss, and reaching a crescendo as we join our families and friends to celebrate the season?  Giddy with the holiday spirit, we’re just a little more kind and a little more forgiving as we move through the days filled with anticipation of . . .

Of what?  What are we looking forward to?  What are we expecting?  What do we really want? 

Kids seem to know with surprising clarity.  “I want an American Girl doll!” “I want a new bike!” “I want chocolate chip cookies!” “I WANT MY MOMMY!”  But how many of these wants are truly needs?  Do they even recognize the difference?  Rarely.  In watching kids flit from one toy to the next we see right through their fly-by-night passions, reaching for this and grabbing for that. 

We forget that adults are not so different, except that we use these long, detailed explanations to rationalize our dubious choices, cleverly disguising the pretenses of our decisions even from ourselves sometimes.  We reach for this and long for that then reach for something else.  Sometimes we get what we want.  And sometimes we reach for what we think we really want only to get it and later discover that it wasn’t so great after all.  Maybe things have changed since we began wanting what we want and we find that it’s no longer relevant when it arrives.  And sometimes when we don’t get what we want it makes us want it even more; an unrequited passion not so easily extinguished.  But how much of what we say we want do we truly need?

Perhaps at the root of every desire is a basic longing—to connect, to love, to be at peace; the hunt for comfort and joy.  Remember this as you move through Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, Christmas, and look for ways to connect with the root of your longing.   

Try this: 

1. Volunteer!  Get out of yourself and give back to your community!  As Rumi says, there are a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

2. Keep it real!  No holiday is perfect and few celebrations rarely resemble the cozy gatherings depicted in commercials and our favorite programs on television.  If your family dynamic has changed or tradition is too hard to satisfy, don’t be afraid to do things a little different each year! Get rid of the pressure!

3. Take some time for yourself!  Give the gift of your presence.  You can’t be there for others in any real way if you’re not there for yourself so slow down, take a nap, read a book, get a massage, and take some time to reflect on where you’ve been, where you’re going and what you’re thankful for.

4. Remember what’s important.  It’s easy to lose sight of why we’re doing what we’re doing when we’re so busy baking and buying and wrapping and coming and going.  Take some time to connect with the real reason for the season.

Succumb to the conspiracy of love and you just might find that what you’re looking for has been with you all along.

P.S.  Thanks for sharing the quote Mom!

Dogs Never Lie

In times of joy, all of us wished we possessed a tail we could wag.

~ W.H. Auden

Madison would be freaking out right now if she were here to see this flood.  She would be tempted to get in the creek but she would hesitate; tuned into the water’s raging energy; connected to the heightened turmoil around her.  She was sensitive like that; dialed in before others even knew. 

 

Like the time she made a big fuss of dragging her blanket and pillow around to my side of the bed so she could sleep next to me.  I noticed the change right away, and I wondered out loud if perhaps I had cancer, or some terrible malaise, because I had heard about dogs that can sense these things.  A few days later I learned that I was pregnant.  She continued to drag her bed around to my side for weeks until one day she didn’t; and, again, I wondered out loud if everything was okay with the baby.  A few days later I miscarried.  She didn’t drag her bed around to my side after that, but she stayed close and loved me through my tears.

 

One time she charged to the edge of the yard and scared the dickens out of our neighbor.  She could be intimidating with her stocky frame—almost 100 pounds and mostly muscle—but Madison just wanted to say hello.  We knew her approach could use some work; still, she went too far that time and she knew better, so when her daddy scolded her bad choice she put herself in time-out; cowering on the little mat in front of the soaking tub in the master bath, shaking and shivering in her remorse.  She wanted to do right, she really wanted to do right, and it killed her to think that she had disappointed us.

 

But she could never really disappoint us, not for long anyway.  No matter the infraction, just one look at her cute little mug and soon we were laughing at her heartfelt expressions.  She could be a real drama queen sometimes.  Mostly, we just loved her and cherished every minute we shared. 

 

Before I came along she was her daddy’s best friend, but she welcomed me with loving paws and big wet kisses.  She even let me paint her toenails in my favorite shades –“Party-in-my-Cabana” pink for the summer and “Fa-La-La-Luscious” for the holidays.  From the way she watched me beautify, I imagined that she secretly wanted to join me in my primping.  And when she walked down the aisle as the honorary ring bearer for our New Year’s Eve nuptials, wearing a big red flower behind her ear, I couldn’t have loved her more if I had given birth to her myself.  I hope she knew that.

 

When she left her condo in the city for mountain dwelling, we teased that she was living the high life in her new retirement home.  More than bacon and eggs—more than anything—she loved being outdoors, and she moved freely between meditations in the sun, chasing sticks and mindless rambling by the creek.  Madison taught me so much about living, about the joy of routine and unconditional love, about seizing each moment and never being afraid to ask for what you want.   I envied her life.

 

Sometimes I still hear the tap of her nails on the hardwood floors and I turn to call her name.  Then I remember.  But like the whispering wind that moves the trees and urges the water downstream, we’ll carry her loving spirit in our hearts forever. 

______________________________

Photos by Lori Kennedy Photography.  (c) 2012 Lori Kennedy.  www.lorikennedy.co

 

Don't Forget the Whiskey Whore

I had an inheritance from my [grand]father,

It was the moon and the sun.

And though I roam all over the world,

the spending of it is never done. 

~Ernest Hemmingway, For Whom the Bell Tolls

(Artwork by A.L. Childress - year of creation unknown)

My friend Tim took one look at her hanging on my wall and said in his most dramatic, southern drawl, “Well she’s nothing but a whiskey whore…” summing up the scantily clad woman reclined against the sofa with a half-empty bottle of booze on the floor in front of her; and so she became known around our house.  But to my grandfather, she was an erotic gem; painted on a canvas torn from an old World War II military jeep and hidden beneath a bland landscape painted in gray, given to my grandfather as collateral for a $2 loan he made to the artist after the war. 

For years the Whiskey Whore had been concealed beneath that drab landscape, stashed in the basement of my grandfather’s house.  Then one day as we discussed art, I confided that many pieces in my personal collection were erotically inspired from cultures around the world.  He couldn’t resist the temptation to share his secret.  “There’s an erotic painting under there…” he whispered, pointing to the dull gray landscape.  I was certain that I had misunderstood. 

But I hadn’t.  Eager to share his treasure, my grandfather had placed the framed painting face down on the table and removed the back with a screwdriver, gently pulling the layers of canvas apart to reveal the vibrant Whiskey Whore underneath what appeared to be so dull and lifeless.  That’s when he told me the story of how he had won her by default for an unpaid debt.

He gave me the painting that day; he made me carry it out the back door, up the hill and round the house to my car so that my grandmother wouldn’t see.  But she had been looking out the kitchen window as I schlepped through the yard with the painting tucked under my arm and she knew straight away what I was hiding.  A bit of drama followed:  “Why Karl Mason!  What kind of grandfather gives a painting like that to his granddaughter?  I’ve never heard of such!”  Grandpa calmed her down as only he could while I quietly placed the painting in my car.  We never discussed it again.

Yet this controversial work of art has become so much more to me than paint on canvas.  It reminds me of the many layers of life waiting to be revealed—the vibrant colors of the soul—and the gentle wisdom my grandfather shared with me so freely in the time we spent together.  And though I’ve traveled the world and discovered my own great fortunes, this simple painting on tattered canvas hangs above our fireplace as a gentle reminder of the depth and breadth that is life.

It has also become a metaphor for remembering what matters most—is it the painting or the story behind the painting?  As my sweetheart reminds me from time-to-time when I get caught up in the chaos of life:  Don’t forget the Whiskey Whore!

Tapestry of the Heart

“Any human life situation

is like the momentary position of a kaleidoscope;

and the group of souls within that situation

are like the bits of brightly colored glass

which form an interesting pattern of relationship.

Then the kaleidoscope is shaken . . .

and with this flick of the wrist there comes into being

a new design, a new combination of elements.

And so on, again and again, time after time,

always different . . . always it is significant, and always

there is a dynamic and purposeful intention. ”

~Gina Cerminara, PhD, Many Lives, Many Loves

Tapestry of the Heart

New York, New York

I met Connor on a plane from New York City.  At the time, I was dating an aspiring young photographer whom I had met on the beach in Florida months before.  He had flown to New York to surprise me for Valentine’s Day.  I was surprised alright; especially when I learned over dinner that he hated children so much that he had taken medically necessary steps to make sure he didn’t father any. 

There I was, at yet another relationship crossroads trying to sort out the truth of my desires.  Did I even want to have children?  Did I see myself as a mother?  What was motivating my decision?

We had argued when I broke up with him.  The next day, he insisted that I accompany him to Ground Zero.  In an effort to appeal his case, he reminded me that the people who went to work there on September 11^th fully expected to return home that night.  “Life is uncertain,” he said.  “How do you even know that you can have children?”  True, he had a point, and we really did have fun together.  But logic notwithstanding, a red flag waived in my mind’s eye.

The Meeting

So it was on my return flight to Florida that Connor introduced himself.  He was my age, single, ruggedly handsome, had never been married but wanted to be, and he adored children.  He couldn’t wait to have a family of his own, information he proudly volunteered over in-flight cocktails.  We talked non-stop, and by the time we arrived at the gate in Atlanta it was as if we were old friends.  He asked if he could call me sometime; he would look me up the next time he came to Florida.  I gave him my number and we parted ways.

Meanwhile, I was in a state of flux.  I knew I needed to call things off (again) with the photographer, but I was swayed by indecision and basically avoiding the inevitable.  Then Connor called.

It had been more than a month since we met.  I had thought of him often, remembering his passion for children and family and finding comfort in that.  So when he called to tell me that he would be in my area at the end of the month, I readily accepted his invitation for dinner and, that night, I ended things with the photographer.

But Connor and I never did have that dinner.  His trip was delayed.  I went to L.A.  We re-scheduled.  His flight was cancelled.  I went back to New York.  We rescheduled.  Through it all we continued to speak by phone almost every day for three months until, finally, we came up with a plan:  A double concert weekend with James Taylor in Atlanta and Elton John in Pensacola.  We planned every detail, excited to see each other again when I returned from New York.    

A Love Connection

Then one night about a week before our date, Connor and I were talking on the phone and the subject turned to love.  “Have you ever been in love?” I asked.

Connor laughed, and then told me of his childhood sweetheart Karley.  They had grown up together, both from large Irish-Catholic families.  In the 4^th grade, she had given him a homemade Valentine, and he kissed her.  They were inseparable after that, dating throughout high school and college.  The summer after graduate school, she gave him a Celtic friendship ring and proposed marriage.  He accepted.  A year later, Connor called the whole thing off.

“Why?”  I asked.

“She didn’t want to have children.”

“Is that the only reason you broke things off?” I pried.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“What would make her not want to have children?” I furthered.

“Well, she had just finished grad school and was about to start a new job . . .”

“How long has it been since you’ve seen her?” I coaxed.

“At least four years, but I hear about her from time to time through mutual friends.”

“What would you do if she came back to you and said, ‘Connor, I’ve changed my mind; I do want children’?” I posed.

           

“Honestly? I don’t know.  I’ve never considered that.  When she said ‘no children,’ all bets were off.  What about you?” he asked, changing the subject, “When was your last relationship?"

I told him about my recent break-up with the photographer for similar reasons, and we marveled at the parallel.  But I couldn’t ignore the small voice within warning me that Connor was not mine to love.

Calling All Angels

Two days before our long-anticipated first date Connor called, “I’ve got good news, and bad news,” he said.

“Okay, let me have it; good news first.” 

“Well, Monday, after we spoke, I couldn’t quit thinking about your questions. They stirred up a lot of painful memories for me.  I stayed up all night reading old letters and looking at pictures of Karley . . . of us . . . just thinking about things.  Then, yesterday, I called her.  We talked for six hours and guess what?  She’s sick of Manhattan; bored with the corporate world.  She wants to have children!  She’s ready to begin that part of her life! No joke.  We’re meeting in Hilton Head this weekend, can you believe it?”

“Oh my goodness, that’s . . . wonderful?”  I said, shocked yet fascinated!

“And so the bad news is, well, I’m canceling our date.  Are you mad?”

“Are you kidding?  How could I be mad?  The whole time you were talking about Karley, I knew she was your soul mate.  Just promise that you’ll keep me posted; let me know what happens.”  He promised that he would.

The following Tuesday Connor called with news of his engagement.  “We have you to thank,” he said.  “I told Karley that if it hadn’t been for your questions, I never would have called her.  You’re an angel; really, I think you’re an angel.” 

I was so happy for them, yet I could hardly believe it was true.  I had met this guy once on a plane and hadn’t seen him since.  Now here we were, more than 3 months later, sharing this incredible moment of transformation. I would never view my relationships the same again.

Giving Thanks

Today I am humbled as I reflect on my life, filled with gratitude for the brilliant threads linking past, present and future, and as I step confidently in the direction of my dreams, hand-in-hand with my beloved, I know that I am exactly where I’m supposed to be, comforted by the delicate intertwining of spirits, meaningful and purpose-driven.  

In the end I've learned it's true:  No matter the outcome, when we’re open and willing to look beyond our immediate needs, our connections with others will bring the most significant opportunities for self-discovery, expand our capacity for human understanding, and leave the greatest space for love.