The Beauty of Endings

Things end. Weeks end. Years end. Relationships, friendships, vacations, chapters in our lives. Life itself. Sometimes these endings leave us full of regret. We wish we had accomplished this or that. A cleaner house, finished that novel, lost weight, written Christmas cards, seen that person one more time, painted that room. We waste so much time on regret and what ifs we often forget one simple thing. We can’t begin anew if we don’t close some chapters. Nature is a great teacher. Endings, with their dying away, nurture new growth.

My dear friend G is closing a big chapter of her life. I’m sure she has fear and anxiety about it. But she is, with great courage, beginning an exciting new life, and fulfilling a life-long dream. I envy her, I will miss her and I am thrilled for her all at once. I wish her wings.

So, I love fall and the browning of the leaves. I love that the winter trees bare themselves and shed their dress to stand stark, angular and strong against the sky. I then love the slight warming of air that signals the budding again. Ending, Beginning. Ending, Beginning. Ending, Beginning.

Happy New Year

Photograph by Gray Alexander

Life Lessons

Life Lessons. A big topic. Where did I learn what is important to me? My values? My belief system? Although I continue to be shaped by my experiences and the passage of time, certainly, without question, it began with my parents. I do not need Mother’s Day and Father’s Day to be reminded of them and how missed they are but I do want to take time to acknowledge their gifts to me.

My Father. A beautiful man physically, he was tall, athletic, strong, graceful and a great dancer. He was good with his hands, could fix anything and loved to be outside. He was once asked to join the United States Olympic Diving Team and even started and sang in his own orchestra. He never fully realized either one of those dreams. If he was bitter about it, he never said. Regretful, maybe. He made other choices. He loved children. All children. He was unfailingly kind to people less fortunate. Loving music and singing, he taught his children to love all things musical, too. Every trip in the car was full of funny and/or beautiful songs. Christmas, in his hands, became a magical time created by him for our excitement and wonderment. Many nights before going to sleep he sat on my bed and told me story after amazing story made up just for me. He taught me absolute honesty and the imperative of doing the right thing. If he didn’t always, I think he tried. He gave me music and story-telling and unconditional love. So much more, but I’ll leave it there.

My Mother. My gloriously gorgeous mother. As a child I just remember the vitality of her presence. She was always busy; a force of nature. She had incredible energy and stamina. She called it drive and convinced us we were invincible and had unlimited possibility. She was on the cusp of a time when women were just beginning to come into their own. She had four children and made that her career for many years. She poured so much of her creative fire into us that she sacrificed her own ambition. Later she worked many jobs in radio, magazine, advertising and brokerage houses, all while raising us, putting meals on the table and trying to keep my brothers in check. No easy task. Her passion was writing. She was an extraordinarily gifted poet and fiction writer. She loved nature and taught me to see it with the eyes of a poet. She loved to read, exposed me to great writers and encouraged my own writing. She was loyal and steadfast beyond what was even possible. Everyone loved her. She was always there to listen, offering support and ideas. She gave me a love of nature, a desire to learn, intellectual curiosity and unconditional love. So much more, but I’ll leave this too, for now.

Boy, was I lucky. So other than the extraordinary gifts I was given, I would say to anyone, the Life Lesson is don’t give up on your dreams and don’t give up hope. Someone is watching.

                                          Sweetheart Tree. Because they were.

You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough. - Mae West

I want to live with as few regrets as possible. Once one reaches a certain age, regrets are inevitable, I think. But my goal, from here forward…. is about living consciously. Choosing my path consciously.

There are many times I have felt swept along by the frenzy of life…. Just hanging on by my fingernails in the whirlwind of what others wanted, needed, required. There always have been and will be others who need us to be something we were not created to be. The trick is to gracefully hold fast to your true self. Choose consciously.

Each decision sets us on a path. It has always been fascinating to me to reflect on “the road not taken” (Robert Frost). Not just for me but for friends, family, even strangers. If we knew how we create our destiny with each choice we would probably be immobilized.

I have a friend that chose to go and study Shakespearean acting in London instead of taking a high-profile, high paying job in her previously chosen field. She probably would have been happy either way, but now she literally glows with happiness.

My mother often said she was not meant to be a parent. This was, I think she meant, not her natural inclination. In spite of that, she fiercely became the most devoted, nurturing, loving and unselfish parent I have ever known. It was just my good fortune to be her daughter. But I was also always aware of her deep longing for another kind of life. An artistic life. One unfettered by convention and rules.

I have absolutely no regrets about becoming a parent. It’s true that it shaped my life. But I chose it consciously. I was never the incredible multi-tasking, drive-carpool, fix dinner, help-with-homework, do laundry, do bills and sit-at-the-kitchen-table-and-write-a-bestseller kind of writer. I did all of that but the writing. I focused on my children. I have no regrets about that. What is hard is to shift the focus now that it’s not needed.

Time for me. Time to show up. Time to write.

My Story

I am a writer. It took me a very long time to say that. Finally, with only minor trepidation, I can own it. It makes my heart soar to write. It gives me joy. That's how I know it's what I am supposed to be doing.

I have completed two middle-grade novels and one-third of the third of the trilogy. I have also completed a YA novel. I have several other works in progress... poems, short stories and a non-fiction. 

I look for inspiration everywhere and often find it. My friends, my family, music, TV, interviews, literature, poetry. So many others are looking and have wisdom to share. We can learn from each other.

My friends tell me just to "show up" and see what happens. So that's what I am doing. I am going to "show up" for my writing. It deserves it. 

What does it mean?

So what does it mean, "The Forest and the Trees?" The Forest is where I am forging a path toward publication. The trees are all the other writers, agents, editors and bloggers out there doing the same thing.

Trees are also representative of grounding, beauty, spirituality, strength and fortitude. They create the books you hold in your hands. Since, in my opinion, it would be a good thing to always have books to hold (an increasingly rare thing these days) and air to breathe, plant a tree when and if you can.

Moseriah is a character from my first book. 

I have been a reluctant Blogger. It seemed self-indulgent and aggrandizing to me. Then my daughter said to me, "You can write about anything. It doesn't have to be about you. It can be about what you find interesting or fun." I'm paraphrasing, but you get the idea. That sparked something in me and opened up possibility. So thank you, my darling daughter. This one's for you.