Discovery Begins with Denial

When I started this blog, I didn’t think there would be such long periods of time in-between one post and another. Yet, I certainly didn’t think I would write everyday either.

I’ve thought about writing a few times since the first of the year, but thought I had promised to start over.

 Starting over, it seemed at the time, involves an entirely new creative process. I thought, how can I start over if I don’t have a new blog title, a new purpose, and actually help people? That is the goal, after all.

 Most writers don’t spend time penning something just because they have a story inside them that is burgeoning and begging to be told. They end up writing that story because they believe it will help someone.

            Six years and a lifetime of experience later, I found myself at the doorstep of a home that once represented everything I had hoped for. Before ringing the bell, or knocking, I looked around at a landscape that had mostly stayed the same.

            Calm, and completely composed, I rang the bell. Then, I turned and looked out at the view, remembering years ago telling a friend, “I can see my parents’ house from here.”

            I continued gazing out into the past, as it were, and wondered how many dreams had come true since I last visited; how many dreams shattered.

            When the door opened, I found myself 19 again, but much more confident. I was visiting a former colleague, who at one point had been the person who initiated a catalyst of change in my professional life. It was her husband who answered the door.  In the few moments we stood there talking, filling years of time with quips about the business and personal goals, this long-awaited reunion felt nothing like what happens in the movies. Perhaps the most significant marker of time passing was in the age of their children, and the great height one of them now stood. Where was that little girl I used to baby-sit, I wondered.

            My friend came downstairs and in a moment, what felt like six years felt like six minutes and a lifetime in the same moment. Unlike some of my closest friendships (and even the ones you know you are supposed to keep up), we didn’t pick up right where we left off, but we did.  

            “It hasn’t been six years,” she exclaimed. I confirmed, with proper memory and data to back it up. “No way!”  

            Denial seems to be the first indication that two people were ever friends to begin with.

            I remember, years earlier, around the time I first met my friend, I was having dinner with my college roommate and her mother. I think it was Mother’s Day weekend of freshman year. That second semester, she and I had every single class – but one, together. I don’t remember what we were eating, or where we went to eat, but I do remember what I was wearing. I remember, because we took a picture that night upon a moment of discovery (or, at least I think we did).

            My college roommate’s mom said, “Oh, you guys are friends.” The two of us looked at each other, shrugged, kind of in shock, and denied it. I remember the awareness of that fact, and not the circumstances surrounding it, like it was yesterday.

            Discovery begins with denial.

            There.

            I’m going to let that stew for a bit.

Help Wanted: New Blog Title, New Layout, New Voice

Now that it's a new year, I think it's time for a new blog, that is, a new blog title. Not for the blog post, but an entirely different blog altogether.

This will stay up as an archive of sorts, and a new one will begin. 

I'm looking at a few different options that involve not only the things that I'm passionate about, but the things that are relevant to other people.

I'm open to ideas.

Toast: To Opportunity (12/31)

December 31st

Toast: Who and what are you toasting to in 2012?

Funny I should ask this, I just toasted - virtually - to a friend of mine in New York. It goes the same, I'm toasting to my friends (my friendships) and family. I'm toasting for success, love, and peace.

In the middle of it all, toasting to opportunity.

Opportunity to spend more time talking with and spending time with friends and family.

Opportunity to do better at my job and learn new skills.

Opportunity to go on a date, or two, maybe, once in a while.

Opportunity to give back, volunteer, and help make the world a better place.

Hmm, maybe I should go back to yesterday's post and say the word for 2012 is opportunity!

The rest of the Resonating Reflections of 2011 can be found here.

Traditions: Of Love & Christmas (12/21)

December 21st

Tradition: What are your traditions of Christmas? Or Hanukkah, if that’s what you celebrate. Is there one thing that spans generations or your family or just in your life? 

This will be the fifth Christmas since my Grandma passed away and the sixth since we had Christmas with her last. So many of my Christmases and traditions involved her, but that was another time.

There are a few traditions that have followed my life.

One, my Dad has a little blue nightlight that he will plug in my bedroom and turn the light on Christmas eve. The theory was, if the light was off when I woke up in the morning it meant Santa Claus had come. The light was always off in the morning, even the last time I spent Christmas at home, when I was 29. 

Second, when I was a lot younger, my Dad started buying little house ornaments from Hallmark. They were on of the "collections." Each year, from about 1985, I'd get a new house for Christmas. When I was about 12 or 13, and I only had a few, I used them to be the "neighbors" for my gigantic dollhouse. Suddenly, when I was about 26 or 27, there were enough ornaments for my Mom to decorate the Christmas tree with only the houses. That's what she did this year, she said. [photo to come when I see it!] 

Now, as I look at these two, these are the only two traditions that continue to this day. But, there are others. 

There is the tradition that lasted for several years of my hometown Church holding a midnight service and we would sing Silent Night outside in front of the sanctuary. 

Then, there is the tradition when we would have Christmases with some family friends to watch a movie. 

For a long time, just after Thanksgiving, a package would arrive in the mail. It was a three foot piece of green felt with three golden rings tied to it, cascading in rows to the bottom. The dates were cut out in red felt. Each day, I'd have something new to open: a pencil, a dollar bill, a pair of socks, or maybe a piece of candy. 

Even still, another memory involves my Grandma taking me out onto the front porch to see if I could hear Santa Claus. She would bend slightly over with her arms around me, holding me close to keep me warm. Then, faintly, I'd hear, "Ho! Ho! Ho!" off in the distance. It wasn't until I was about 16... that I figured out how close Santa Claus was to my backyard. 

These are all memories that I'll be able to carry on into my own family, and one I'm already planning on passing along to my pseudo-nephew. Every child and every family needs a Christmas tradition that spans time, whether the people who helped make them happen aren't around anymore, or not. Sometimes, when we stop experiencing the tradition ourselves, it's time to pass it on to someone else.