Falling in love

" Falling in love with someone isn't always going to be easy... Anger... tears... laughter.. It's when you want to be together despite it all. That's when you truly love another. I'm sure of it."  ~ Helen Rowland I'm in the midst of falling in love. The moment I saw the photo of my beloved, having never met, I knew it was meant to be. My heart beat a little faster. My eyes misted up with tears. My soul cried out "This is the one!". It was an extraordinary experience. I knew that we were meant to be together, regardless of how difficult the path might be. I was willing to take on any difficulties so that the object of my affection and I could share as many years as possible together. It's a wonderful feeling. I feel more alive. The air smells sweeter. Food tastes more delicious. My senses are more heightened.  And, I'm utterly and completely exhausted. Why? If I'm in love, for what reason could I possibly be this tired? Because my new love is young Shiloh Shepherd dog. I first saw her picture on the Shepherd Rescue organization's rescue page. I am on every possible animal rescue list. I am generous to a fault when it comes to the welfare of animals who are in desperate need of help. My mother has rescued countless dogs over the years. We even rescued some horses in dire straights. If I could adopt every one who needed a home, I'm afraid we'd be out of a place to live. So, I've learned to be sympathetic, to work hard to help animals who are at great risk, but understanding that I can't save them all. Yet, when I saw Dakota's face, I knew she was 'the one'. It was a spiritual experience. Dakota's eyes literally told me that we were meant to be a family. After applying for adoption, and being selected, we had to figure out how best to get this Virginia native up to Maine. This ended up involving a bleary eyed trip to New Jersey and back. Getting new a dog, even a young one as Dakota, who has already had one home isn't like bringing home a  puppy, who has just left her Mama. A dog who has had a home before knows her routine, she knows her 'pack' and she knows her life where she has lived all of her life. Uprooting her, even for the best of intentions, is a tough business.  There is a commitment and determination to love someone who isn't quite sure of her new life yet. There is a balance of affection, exercise, routine and gentle discipline so that she knows her new life. It's not a path to be undertaken by someone who just thinks having a new dog would be fun. There is a lot of work to be done. And yet, it's unbelievably wonderful. I have fallen completely in love with this beautiful girl. I know that she is still getting to know me. I understand that she's spent the first year of her life with someone else. I am teaching her not to bark at new people in the house. I'm helping her to get to know our daily schedule. I'm giving her as much snuggling as I can, while still instructing her that my word is the law. I'm playing with her. I'm brushing her. I'm feeding her, letting her get on my bed, walking her, laughing at her goofy antics and generally getting to know her. Most of all, I'm letting her fall in love with me. That's as much a part of falling in love...since true love is never one sided. I'm still awfully tired. But, it's a good tired.

Love is in the air

“Love is something eternal; the aspect may change, but not the essence.” ~ Victor Hugo

I remember the early days of being in love...my heart beating faster just at the mere thought of my first crush...the way I'd draw hearts all over my school notebooks...the earnest way in which my Kindergarten boyfriend would always save me a seat on the bus, and then carry my Kimba the White Lion lunch box into the classroom, putting it into my cubby for me...the way notes would be passed in Junior High asking me if I liked a certain boy, and to check a box in response if my feelings were in the affirmative....the way my heart literally seemed to shatter into jagged, wretched pieces when it was broken the first time. Love, when you're young, means everything. Crowded, noisy rooms will feel empty when in the presence of your heart's desire. Time will seem to be speed up, and hours will fly around the clock, when you are with that person. You won't believe it's time to go home, until you see the street lamps come on, and know that your mother has dinner waiting on the table. The phone will ring, and your breath will catch in your throat, hoping that a particular boy is brave enough to get past your gatekeeper father in order to speak to you. It's an incredible thing, young love. It is mesmerizing, captivating, all encompassing and bewitching.

And yet, I wouldn't trade my 23 years old marriage for anything...not even to go back to those easy, lovely, dreamy days of stolen kisses and hypnotizing infatuation. There is something even more romantic about the choice to remain with one man for all of adult life. Having met during our college years, my husband and I were still young by today's standards, when we fell in love. Additionally, we never lived in the same city until six months after we were legally married. Our newlywed stage, which I consider to be the first five years of our married life together, consisted of learning how to occupy the same space for more than a few days. Our courtship consisted of a great many blissful weekends together. I had no idea what was in store for me when I actually had to share a house with a boy...forever. As an only child, and then a young lady who went to an all women's college, living with a guy who never went home was new to me. Even though my father was an incredible force in my life, my mom and I did outnumber him, and therefore, our house was kind of 'girl world'. Boy stuff---from the accouterments of Jeff's Army career to his shaving gear in the bathroom--were all new territory. There were entire years we drove each other crazy. We had no idea how to coexist when it came to building a life together. We realized how very little we had in common. However, we made the promise to each other to find that middle ground, and we've been doing so since 1987.

Here are some insights I've learned along the way...during this journey of love, marriage and building a shared partnership:

• It's better to be kind than right. My friend, Leslie, taught me this one. This was a difficult piece for both Jeff and me to digest. We both have a highly developed sense of competitive spirit. We both are willing to defend our positions to the end. During those early years, everything from how a peanut butter and jelly sandwich SHOULD be made to which route to take on a trip, became fodder for arguments. What did I learn? 99% of the time, it's better to simply let an issue, that doesn't really matter,  go. Will the Earth stop spinning if I've got the correct answer to a trivia question, but mon mari is sure of his? No. Kindness doesn't mean being a doormat over the truly important matters. But, it can be a balm to heal a multitude of tiny cracks in a relationship's foundation.
• Don't expect your partner to be everything to you. My husband loves the great outdoors. He adores hiking, camping, mountains and sports. I love cities. I gain energy from art museums, great theater, fascinating stores and energetic diversity. Jeff still plays hockey. I practice yoga. I would no more fit my husband into following my salivating, day dreaming forays into Barney's than he would expect me to sit in a freezing rink at 10 PM on a Sunday for a hockey game. We give each other space in which to pursue the activities and passions we don't share. We don't believe that you need to carry your partner with you in your back pocket everywhere you go. We do some things solo, understanding that our choice of endeavor is sheer torture for the other person. Then, we share our enthusiasm. Our favorite trip we've ever taken, just the two of us, was to the unbelievably gorgeous Equinox Resort in Manchester, Vermont. Jeff golfed. I took yoga classes and enjoyed the spa. We met later on in the day for scrumptious, fabulous dinners. We took hand holding walks through the beautiful grounds. We had the right mix of things we each enjoyed separately, and things we enjoyed together. It was heavenly.
• Make an effort if something is very important to your partner. This may seem to contradict the advice I've given just above. However, making an effort is more about caring about someone else more than you care about your own feelings. Jeff has gone to Broadway with me, and made a huge effort to enjoy what I love about New York. I have actually gone to a Boston Bruins game, and cheered until my throat was sore. I was even a great sport when the drunk guy next to me began swearing like a sailor in front of our then 8 year old daughter. If something is special to the person you love, show an interest. Learn the position, and key players, in sports, ladies. Even if you don't like the game, it never hurts. Likewise, gentlemen? Brush up on a few artists and designers. You never know when a comment like "Really? That's a Michael Kors? It seems way too avant garde..." will make your woman beam with pride. I am not saying that I plan to take up ice hockey (though it would be great for a laugh!), but I do hope that I am kind enough to know which key Red Sox players have been traded.
• Build a foundation together. This is one area that always surprises me...despite Jeff's and my utter lack of common ground when it comes to personal interests, we share the identical goals for the foundation of our relationship. We made choices, and we continue to make choices, that are for the 'common good' for us, and for our children. Sometimes this means compromise...finding that middle path. Other times, we are completely on the same page. There are dozens of metaphors about foundations crumbling because they were not built on firmly enough. So, discover what that ground is together...talk about what's important to you. Think about what you're willing to let go of, and what is a non-negotiable principle. Common goals, common beliefs and common intentions trump common interests every time.
• Be appreciative. I can't stress this piece often enough. When the person you love does something nice for you, say thank you. Notice even the smallest efforts. Be thankful that somebody loves you enough to fill up your car with gas, to fold your laundry in the exact way you like or to watch a movie that's not that your taste. Just say thank you. And, say it again.

When it comes to love, there is no right or wrong. Whether it's a first love, being spied across a busy schoolyard, or the precious celebration of a 50th anniversary, it's all extraordinary. Love never goes away. It simply changes, morphing into something new and different with each new experience. If you have love in our life, cherish it. Treat it like the inestimable gift that it is. And remember always that love comes in many forms, in all shapes and sizes, and every piece of it is worthy.

How Do I love Thee?

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.I love thee to the depth and breadth and height. My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight. For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with a passion put to use. In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose. With my lost saints, --- I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose,I shall but love thee better after death.

~ Elizabeth Barret Browning

One silly, mind numbing, but all consuming recent hobby of mine has been Facebook. It's been a lovely way to reconnect with old friends, and get to know new ones better. It's given a medium for friends and family, separated by thousands of miles, to stay in touch each day. Most of all, it is simply entertaining. Facebook has many features....from being able to upload photos to sending virtual gifts. It also has an innumerable number of quizzes. These inaccurate, but amusing tests, remind me of the ones my preteen self used to take in "Seventeen" magazine. At that time, I did enjoy the fashions and the hairstyle tips, but what I waited for, month after month, was the quiz of the month. It was my favorite feature of each issue. I vividly recall my friends and I writing our answers, not in the magazine, but on scraps of paper, so that we could compare our answers to "Is He The Guy for You?" and "What is Your Dream Date?". On Facebook, not only do we have hundreds of quizzes available to take immediately and compare outcomes with our friends, but we don't have a wait for the next magazine to receive the next quiz. It's a goofy habit that takes me back to the 'old days' of middle school....with the thought that choosing answers A, B, C or D will shed light on our innermost thoughts and unconscious desires.

I have taken dozens of Facebook quizzes since joining the online service. I've learned which book of the Bible most describes my life (The Book of Ruth), my Hippie Name (Gypsy Willow Dusk), What Type of Shoe I am (Ballerina Flat), Which Breed of Dog I am (a Fox Terrier) and that my predominant color is Blue. I have discovered that, as far as Disney Princesses are concerned, I'm Sleeping Beauty. According to the quizzes, I have learned that I should be most compatible with a Pisces (my cousin is the only Pisces I know), that I will give birth to 3 girls (not even close to the the mark) and that I should be living, for some reason I can't discern, in South Dakota. Therefore, it came as a great surprise to me when I took the "What Quote Represents your Life?" quiz this morning, to have Facebook bring up one of my truly favorite poems.

Written by Elizabeth Barrett Browning in her book of verses, "Songs from the Portuguese", this poem describes loving another (in her case, her beloved husband, Robert Browning) person to the deepest depths in one's bones, to the most soaring heights of one's soul. Published in 1850, this poem's vitality and emotion has not dimmed over time. My husband gently teases me that I wear my heart on my sleeve. I find myself in good company on this front: clearly Elizabeth Barrett Browning did the same. "How Do I love Thee?" not only describes how much I love my husband of more than 2o years, but how much I adore my children, my family, my precious animals and my closest friends. The emotion expressed conveys the sentiments I feel when I watch a film that moves me deeply or read a book that touches my heart. Each time I reread this poem, I find deeper meaning into its spiritual profundity of the sacredness of love. While some critics like to dismiss this work as trite, sentimental or banal, I believe these same critics most certainly have not felt the power of extraordinary love before. In a sense, I feel sorry for those very same critics. I believe I have been uncommonly blessed not only to love as deeply as Ms. Barrett Browning did, but to have been loved in return with the same fierceness and regard.

Certainly all quizzes on Facebook are not as profound as this one has been for me. I don't think it crucial that knowing that the "Cocktail that best suits me" is a Samoan Fogcutter, nor do I believe that "My Big, Fat, Greek Wedding" is the story of my life. While I find that "The Type of Storm I am" (a snowstorm) is interesting, it doesn't bear much on deeper insights to my ideal self. But, I do believe that, in this one random instance, Facebook was frighteningly correct, on target, exact and precise. This poem is my favorite, I do believe it does represent me, and I am incredibly proud of that fact.

Now, if only my "Soul Animal" wasn't set to be a badger, I'd be all set.

"Time and Tide wait for no one...."

"Time and Tide wait for no man..." -- Robert Frost

Three of my good friends are both in the midst of dealing with the ramification of having parents in different stages of Alzheimer's or dementia. Their stories are heartbreaking, loving, frustrating and angst ridden. It is a journey many of us will take, and yet none of us are prepared for. Even as adults, we look to our parents for guidance. I don't know how I would have survived my early years of marriage, parenthood and beyond without my mother's wisdom, advice, insight and suggestions. In my own life, I've come to admire my mother more and more as time has gone on. I have appreciated her battles against the trials and difficulties in her own life, and used these as examples of how to face my own challenges. I have consulted her on almost every step on my life path. She has been my cheerleader, my confessor, my greatest fan and my admonisher. I trust her opinion in all things above everyone else.

How does one reconcile the strong, courageous and all knowing parent of our childhood and our young adulthood, with the parent who becomes angry, belligerent and even vicious? My friends are facing this very question right now. When does one step in, and assume legal control over one's parent? It's a double edged sword: if one steps in too soon and involves doctors and lawyers, one risks losing the love and respect of her parent. And yet, if one waits too long, one runs the risk of the parent becoming a danger to herself or others, particularly if she is still driving. One also runs the risk of the parent making very poor decisions or failing to take care of the very basics of life and health. When is it the 'right time' to step in and say "Dad, I love you but you can't do this anymore"? I wish I had an answer to this question. I'm afraid that it's difficult for everyone involved...the parents themselves, who see their independence and their very lives being removed, and the children, who are now setting themselves in the place of becoming a parent to their own mothers and fathers.

My family experienced this with my Grandmother. My mother watched her own mother's decline with sorrow, anger, devastation and profound frustration. Grandma would have excellent days in which she would make perfect sense to everyone who spoke with her. She would be lucid, articulate and intelligent. Grandma would seem completely in charge of her own life, her own affairs and her own well being. The next day, or even the next hour, she would become paranoid, bitter and hostile. She would become accusatory and challenge everything meant for her well being. It was both painful, and frustrating, because we never knew whether we'd have "Real Grandma" or "Other Grandma". My mother watched her beautiful, successful mother leave the house to go food shopping at Safeway, which was less than five minutes from Grandma's home...and become lost and end up on the complete other side of time.

A wonderful novel that tackles the issue of Alzheimer's in a beautiful, moving way is "Still Alice" by Lisa Genova. Rarely can a work of fiction create a story in which the characters are achingly real, and still incredibly informative. This book, which I recommend highly to everyone, shows every side of the Alzheimer's, and explores each point of view. "Still Alice" does not skimp on storytelling ability. It is a powerful, moving and captivating novel. And yet, I found myself better informed and more knowledgeable about Alzheimer's than I had been...even after my experience with Grandma. I only wish that I had been able to read "Still Alice" in the years before Grandma passed away. It taught me a great deal about the process, about love and about dignity.

One of the ways in which I believe people can help shield their positive memories of their loved ones with dementia is by not neglecting those memories. It's extremely easy to begin to lose sight of the "real" parent (or grandparent) who is angry, who is mean spirited and who may not remember you. My own wish, from our time with my grandmother, is that I'd kept alive more memories of her wonderful years while she was ill. I wish I remembered more about my own playhouse in her garden on Russian Hill. I had forgotten about her taking my cousins and me out for ice cream at Swenson's, in San Francisco, instead of feeding us dinner. I had forgotten how she gave me my own easel for painting right next to hers, and how she bound my first little books of creative writing. I mislaid the memories of her teaching me everything from art to articulation, and of her being my such an enormous part of my growing up. Those memories were overwritten by the hostile woman who was unkind to my son, without remorse. Now that she's no longer with us, I find the joyful times creeping back into my thought patterns, and I am filled with sadness that I couldn't reconcile these two people as 'one'. And yet, I do hope that she knows, somehow, that I love her and will never forget her true self.

Friendship, Loyalty and Ruth

Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God.

Ruth 1:16

One of my favorite books in the Bible is the book of Ruth, not the least of which is because Ruth is my middle name. The Old Testament, to scholars and historians and theologians alike, is full of metaphor, mixed with historical fact. The Old Testament is filled with images, thoughts, ideas and stories of long ago. These books are debated in Rabbinical schools and Christian seminaries. The places mentioned are among the most popular digs for archeologists. The life lessons, and ethical teachings, are still prevalent today. And yet, it's the book of Ruth that speaks to me the most, out of all the Old Testament books. Why? Because, it speaks on the level of deep abiding friendship between women, a sense of undying loyalty and perserverence in the face of wretched adversity. It's not a complex theological idea that will take me a lifetime to wrap my head around. Rather, it's a lesson in how women could, and should, behave towards one another.

Ruth is an extraordinary woman. She leaves all she knows to join her husband's household. When he passes away, and when famine threatens the land, Ruth, and her sisters in law, are released from their mother in law, Naomi, to return to their own families, where they might find a better chance of food, shelter and future promise. But, Ruth refuses to leave her aging mother in law, and instead becomes the bread winner, quite literally, insistent upon honor and kindness and a shared burden. How many women would show this type of character today? Ruth's example of standing together to face hard times was unique in her own time, and it's unique today. Her example of selflessness and hard work for another person inspire me beyond measure.

Beginning in middle school, girls are often pitted against one another. They compete, they establish territories and they torment weaker ones with 'Mean Girl' tactics. Girls can be far worse bullies than boys....because the words and manipulation they inflict can last a lifetime. They spread rumors, they malign and they instigate fear. Sadly, this behavior can continue on until adulthood with some women vying for attention by making others around them "look badly" to their mutual friends. They are competitive, back biting and disloyal, at times. It would never occur to these girls (and women) that our bond as women, and as fellow human beings, should transcend jealousy, bitterness and hostility to make oneself feel better.

Thankfully, I've been blessed with wonderful women friends. Most of us are all around the country (and the world) these days. But, with help from the internet, I'm able to glean support, kindness and friendship in much the same way Ruth gleaned in the fields. If there is one harsh reality that I wish I could spare my own daughter, it's the pain that can be inflicted from other women. And yet, underneath the pain and throughout the lessons learned, other friendships can be formed that are lasting, true and free of competition. I don't believe we can fully appreciate the trueness of loyal friendship without feeling the sting of false.

Like Ruth, I hope to become a woman of unquestioned loyalty, hard work, kindness and commitment. I hope to show love when I'm afraid. I wish I could be as courageous, in the face of uncertainty, as she was. I hope I can pass these traits on to my daughter. I hope that she will know the kind, but more difficult, path will build character far deeper and much further reaching. It doesn't make hurt caused by other girls go away, but it does make you appreciate those who are loyal all the more.

And, I'm most definitely proud to be Ellen Ruth. I have some big shoes to fill.

Hakuna Matata, metaphorically speaking

The first Broadway show I took my children to see was the “Lion King”. Because they had seen the movie version, and they knew all the music, I thought that it would be much easier for them to sit through the theatrical production. We went to New York with our dearest friends, and bookending the children in between us, we were prepared for any eventuality of meltdown behavior. What happened was amazing! Our children, at the time 6 and 4, were mesmerized by the show. The sang along to “Hakuna Matata”, and they waived their toy Pumbas and Timons over their heads…like lighters at a rock concert. All in all, it was an extraordinary first Broadway for them.

One confusing thing that did happen was not to my children, but rather, to me. In the beginning of the 2nd act, trapeze artists were cavorting, twirling and swinging above the heads of the actors playing Simba and Nala. Lush green “stage” vines came from the ceiling and the acrobats flew through the airs on them, always in pairs. It simply didn’t fit with what I knew of the story. So, loudly whispering (despite my reminding my children to be quiet in the theater) to my friend, Debra, I said, “I don’t get it ! What are they doing ?”. Deb whispered back, just as loudly, “Love is in the air ! It’s a METAPHOR !” I’m sure we were on the receiving end up some ugly glances from the people behind us, but I was so shocked that I “missed” what was, quite literally, flying over my head.

How often in life do we miss something that’s right in front of our faces ? How many times does a deeper meaning just pass right over us ? How often do we simply not notice the details of other peoples’ lives ? How many times do we skip right over a person’s response, when we say “How are you ?” In Yoga, we choose to look deeper into life; in body, mind & spirit. We make a conscious effort to look beyond the surface meanings of an action, and move into the next level. We attempt to work through physical asanas, as we find the next layer of ourselves hidden beneath. In short, we’re looking for the metaphors in our lives. We hope and choose to discover what each symbol in our life choices has made for us, and looking back, we can reflect on the trail of breadcrumbs, metaphorically speaking, we have left behind. As we gain insight into our own understanding of ourselves, why we are the way we are, and who we could be, we can also grow in our understanding of others, especially those most dear to us. As we practice “Lion Pose”, we are called to look inward, as we release tension outwardly. This juxtaposition of gazing inward, and exhaling out, helps us to gain insight into our body/mind connection.

That isn’t to say that every comment a loved one makes is on multiple levels. Nothing annoys my husband and teenage son more than when I say “But, how do you REALLY feel ?”, when asking them about how an activity, a day or a game went. I understand that, at times, I do tend to look under rocks where there aren’t any. That is to say “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar”, and sometimes “It was fine” is an appropriate answer. So, while digging under the surface is good, at the end of the day, we just have to remember Hakuna Matata…no worries….and open our eyes to see what we are meant to see. But, it's always good to look up and notice if love is in the air.

"Oh yes, the past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can either run from it, or... learn from it. " ~ Rafiki, from "The Lion King"