Murses And Purses

I like being female.  But I don't know if I like carrying a purse.  Both have their complications, their compartments.  One is being.  The other is baggage.

Men don't carry purses.  Unless you consider those who tag along their 'murse.'  For those not up to date on the latest consumer must, a murse is a male purse.  We have a genderized name for it so we can sell it. Remember, we did sell you the hot ticket item of the 'pet rock.' And the Chia Pet.

P.T. Barnum was the ultimate salesperson.  He knew how to package it and could spot a sucker a mile away.  I don't think he would have carried a murse.

And he wasn't female. To be female is to have wholeness. You see things as inter-connected.  While I am sure all of this varies with the person, some being more connected and insightful than others, some having attributes more male than others.  It is all okay within the range of being human.  I imagine the same is true of males.

But I don't know if having a purse is a good idea.  It smacks back to the age of the dowry.  I didn't have a dowry and I bet you didn't, either. Purses weigh you down.  It is tantamount to toting your house with you wherever you go.  And, it hurts my shoulders.

Now if we didn't have a purse, where would we put our wallet?  Cell phone?  Pockets you say?  We don't like pockets because we have an image to uphold.  Pockets protrude out of pants and make hips and waist look unlike the touch up magazine models.

So this is my solution.  A tiny purse.  Carry only your essentials.  If you must reapply lipstick, leave it in the car.  Do your prep work.  Don't carry the janitorial keys.  Keep one or two on your key holder.  Think about pockets, too.  After all, who are you pleasing?

If I were male, I wouldn't be spending the time to share all of this with you, dear readers, would I?  I like circular endings.  I like being female.

Launch Pad

I am on the launch pad!

Tomorrow I buy my new home.  We'll sit at the table ~ all five of us and sign papers.  There will be the usual requisite chit chat making it a congenial passing of the torch.  I'll be the third single person in that house.  Yes, all of us have been single. First, a female, then a male and now another female.  I'll be in that house much longer than the rest.

It isn't a stepping stone.  Or a career move.  It's just home.  Mine.

Today, I meet with my realtor to do a final walk through.  The house is to be cleaned today and I hope it will be a really thorough cleaning, cabinets, garage, etc.  If that is the case, I will cancel my cleaning service scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.  There is nothing like moving into a home that is immaculate and freshly cleaned.  The former is the current state and the latter will put a smile on my face.

I'm a Mainer now.

On Writing

Writing is an intimate form of communication.  It's like that slow dance that says it all without a sound.  You just know.  

When someone takes the time to read your words and understands where you are going with them (sans the grammar) or better yet, risks going on the adventure with you, it takes you to a deeper level.  I've often felt sad when people don't see the beauty in words.  It is a kind of music.  A Stradivarius (violin) reaching a sound so eloquent that only a few have an ear trained to embrace it.  

I have shared a lot of my work with you my readers.  Some pieces are better than others, some may touch a soft spot within you.  Some may go completely over your head because there isn't a place in your present bodymind to absorb it. Or maybe it just doesn't resonate with you at all.  

Writing exposes a lot about the writer.  I like sharing this with you.  Some take the time and write me back and you know, I always answer your notes. 

But if you can't come from your heart, or risk getting close to another, than you are leading a solitary life. That works for a lot of folks.  But I somehow believe the words, the pages find a place in your bodymind. Maybe stored for a time when it isn't so painful to remember.  

Maine!

I'm a Mainer.  Now.

This week, I move into my new home.  Beyond excited on many levels.  First, there is less maintenance.  Second, I love the openness of the house - new everything!  Third, it is smaller, well designed.  Fourth, I am among people again!  Okay, the latter does have its pluses and minuses.  But, there are lots of organizations in the area that have roused my interest for a while.

Thursday is the walk through. I'll do a look through,and take some measurements .  Friday is the closing and then I drive to the new house.  There is a lot to unload and place throughout.   I always enjoy a few days before the furniture arrives.

That way, I walk through the house, introduce myself and get to know it.

It is going to be so nice.  A new home, family in the area, the ocean.  Does it get any better than that?

Lecram

Night came early on the mountain.  I'd been working outside all day.  Between the dirt in my toes and fingernails and on my face, I was glad to be finished.  I'd been moving plants in the garden most of the afternoon.  The sun baked everything.  I was happy to go inside and shower.

Sitting down at my desk and watching the sun drop behind the mountain, I opened the Mac laptop and decided to surf.  Somehow I came upon a senior chat room and thought I would give it a try.  It was instantly friendly and welcoming.  A few nights later I went back into the chat room.  

Since I had been traveling it would be another two weeks before I went back in.  I was taken aback at how the room changed.  Sexual innuendos were tossed about like paperwork.  Nearly everyone seemed to be drinking to excess and couldn't seem to wait to talk about it.  I left the room quickly.

I didn't return for a few months.  When I did I met a couple of nice people.  The scenario repeated itself.  This time the room had moderators.  They were ill fitting people with control issues.  Chat was n't moderated well and it certainly wasn't balanced.  

Once again, I left until two months ago.  I thought I might pop back in to see if things had changed.  With the exception of one set in her ways woman, there were new moderators.  In this senior room, age 40 and up, the chatmaster allowed a thirty-one year old man from Turkey to moderate.  He was instantly friendly, PMing most of the room from what I heard.  He seemed to PM women.  I didn't mind hearing from him because he intially sounded interesting.  But that changed quickly.  

He said that no one liked him.  That they treated him with disrespect.  I was taken aback that he mentioned these folks by name.

But let's make it clear:

You are a pompous dictator who is socially inappropriate. Evil prospers when good people allow someone like you to be in charge.  All that is missing is your military uniform.  

Thursday Thinkings

This is my last Thursday in my house,  I am still struggling with the thought I won't be here any more.  What is a house anyway?

It's different when you get older.  It rings of familiarity.  Yourself.  When you are younger, you are so busy taking care of everyone that you don't really make friends with your house.  Sure you clean it, you maintain it.  You like it to look nice.  When you move away from it,you take your busyness with you,  there is no sadness.  There is your family who go into the car with you to travel to the new place.  They enter the new home with you.  In that new place, everyone is loved and cared for. There is no looking back. More busyness.

It is different now.  I am older.  Single. That makes all the difference.  And a house is a home.  My home.  Where I belong.

My new home will be one where family visits more.  I will make more family meals, watch my grandchild. I will take much better care of myself.  Whole Foods is close. My kids will be here more. It will feel like family.  The memories created here will last a lifetime.  It will feel inclusive.  It will be inclusive.  It won't be just me anymore.

Soon.

We Will Get The Kids Out

The first thing I did this morning when I awakened was to check on the Thai soccer team.  These past few weeks have found me with so much emotion.  The minute I was the kids were safe it happened.  I wailed.  And wailed.

I'm always the dreamer.  Wanting people to work together for a common goal.  To make things better for all of us.  No hierarchy.  Just people finding their way.  The Thai people did just that.  Of course they have the usual cultural idiosyncrasies.  If they don't know something they will respond that they do.  And they sure responded this week.

They responded along with hundreds of others throughout the world.  People were in trouble.  Children.  The creme de la creme assembled, putting together their skills and expertise.  There were no egos, no nationalities.  Just loving people gathered to save thirteen people.

Loving kindness is a Buddhist tradition. It was surely practiced this week.  Even the military fed the news folks, a rarity these days, along with the myriad of divers, emergency crews, people from all over the world.  There was no thought to money or ancestry.  They came to help.  They had a mission.

There was also another man who made a promise.  He died during a flash flood putting out supply tanks.  He was a highly skilled diver, athlete and all around loving young man.

In loving memory. 💕

"We will get the kids out."

- Saman Kunan, former navy Seal diver, who died while saving others

Home For Sale

Next week I move.

It took over fifteen minutes with my 'communication' company for internet to cancel services.  It took another $9.99 cancellation charge.  WHO charges to cancel service?  Are you kidding?

Why would I ever recommend this service?

This is indeed the longest goodbye.  They say when you are sad to leave a place it means you were meant to be there.  For how ever long you were.  My heart is full of gratitude.  I love this place!  I can't hold back the tears.  Am I really moving?

I can't go into a restaurant, Lowe's or the grocery store without seeing someone who calls me by name.  I do love living in a small town.

Today, the sign went up.  The realtor, who is beyond lovely, came to my house to check on me.  She knows what this means to me.  I have known her for some time.

It's happening fast now.  I have said my goodbyes.  Mostly.  There are some I can't say goodbye to. It is just too painful.  My life has changed.

There was a lot of love here.

Home for sale.

Summer on the Maine Coast

"Come, it is time to go."

I stood at the precipice of a new life.  While everyone was sharing their bucket list, there only had one thing left I really wanted to do. Just one.  I had done all the others. Gone to England, Scotland, Wales. Canada. Mexico. Switzerland and Austria.  Italy.  Germany.  Alaska. Many trips throughout the United States.  In fact, all states but Nevada and Hawaii.   Hiked and rafted some beautiful places. Now it was time to fulfill that one final wish.  At least for now.   To live near my family.  Again.  Now and forever.  It had been too long.  This fall, I would turn seventy.  Yes, it was time.

Two years ago,  I began to think of doing another family trip.  I had taken my children and their spouses/partners to Newfoundland in 2008, before the grands came along.  Now, I would do something special to celebrate my seventy years.  It would be a marker.  Mine.

I've poured over maps and travel guides, localizing the trip to the United States.  Summer was the time to do it as my grandchildren would be off school.  It would be warmer and easier for all of us to travel.  As much as I searched, there wasn't any place I wanted to be.  The choice became clear.

When one of my children relocated to this area, I spent a lot of time looking for an area close that would resonate with me.  The house had to be perfect.  Smaller.  One floor. One step.  Close to everything but near a wooded area. Close to the beach.  Close to Whole Foods.  A coffee shop.  City.

An open house, cathedral ceilings, radiant wood floors, two or three bedrooms, two baths would fit this nicely.  Then I had a dream.  A name kept coming into my head during my dreams.

The realtor suggested we try one more place.  As we drove up to the dead end road, there it was. The name on the street sign was the name in my dream!

My bungalow.  Almost instantly, I had found my Maine home.  Trash and mail at the door. Again.  But I wasn't really in the suburbs.  I was at the outskirts of a city.  Open spaces, city, burbs.  How did I manage that?

Well, I didn't.  I sure didn't have much to do with that divine calling.  I am merely the very happy participant.

My summer on the Maine coast is just around the corner.  And in my daily life. I'll be home. Soon.

House For Sale

My house is up for sale.  The market looks good.  This week,  I signed paper after paper.  Each time the ink met the paper, a few memories surfaced.

There is still much to do.  The photographer has been here.  Soon, someone comes to measure the house.  This is a warm and loving home, lots of natural light. Lots of space.  Openess.  The views are scrumptious!

I am going.  Soon.  It isn't easy. Oh, it is not easy.

It is no wonder I got up at 2 a.m. today.  Moving and the fact I am sleeping in a twin bed.  It is a comfortable bed but I like more room.  It isn't my yummy place, either.  Not anymore.

Soon, I will have a new yummy place.  I will make one last trip north. I'll be meandering in Vermont, no doubt as I absolutely love the state.  As a child, we vacationed the second and third weeks of July.  Every year.  Now, I am not too far away.  I can return to my yummy new home.  It will take time to acquaint myself but in a short bit, we will become life long friends.

Yes, future trips will mean an airplane.  I'll be traveling again very soon.

Oh, I am really getting excited!

The Entourage

I don't want to leave.  I just want to be home.  Anyway, I can't be gone too long.  Between the realtors, phone calls, photographer, mover, estimator, paperwork collector, broker, I need my desk.
But I don't want to go anywhere anyway.  Maybe that is a symptom of loving a place so much you just want to breathe it all in.  In the place where you grew.  Home.  At least for a few more days.

Several friends have called wanting to take me to lunch.  It is hard to go.  Hard to say goodbye. Some I probably won't see again.  Others I sure hope to.  So what do I say to a life of seventeen years in the mountains?  I won't be saying the words, 'goodbye.'   I don't believe in goodbyes.  My friends are always in my heart even if I won't see them for a while, for for the rest of my life.

Seventy does that.

The photographer just left.  The drone photographer may have already taken the video.  I suspect I will know when the photos are on the realtor's website.  She was terrific at staging, moving, rearranging.  She made what could have been painful easy.

Someone comes to do measurements next week.  Apparently they prefer to do their own floor plan.  They didn't seem to want mine.  I am happy with that.  One less paper to find.

So here it is - Friday.  It used to be my weekends were full.  Lots going on.  I don't mind so much these days.  It is a different life. I wanted quiet. I've enjoyed quiet.

I  plan to change that in Maine.

Downloads

You are your own guru.  That doesn't mean you can't learn from others.  Caroline Myss is one such educator.  I have read her books and followed her work for decades.  Take a listen:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PnLO79JVSfo

The Conundrum Of All Your Relationships

"Because this is the conundrum of all your relationships: the manner in which you react to real or imagined wrongdoing. How you respond demonstrates your level of mastery - or lack of it. It's the basis for all your difficult relationships; for all atrocities and world wars."  

As many of you know, I am an experiencer.  The quote above is what was told to another experiencer during an encounter.  

I am not a fan of the Fourth of July.  I don't like 'bombs bursing in air.' Or, the noise or the celebration of a violent end which is supposed to signal a new beginning.  Fireworks frighten me.  They frighten other living things.  The only ones who seem to enjoy it are the ones unconscious.  When we awakened, we understand the full reality of this.  

Why do we celebrate war?  If we celebrated peace, we wouldn't be 'firing' anything. So invite over those nearest and dearest to you.  Have a red, white and blue festivity.  Be safe.

Baltimore

I'm a long way from Baltimore.  At least I thought I was until Thursday.  That day a disgruntled man killed five employees of a Baltimorean newspaper in nearby Annapolis.  I had been in Annapolis just the month before.  My high school classmate and I decided to lunch there and visit the shops.  These are the same shops, the same street where a vigil was held last night honoring the five who were gunned down.

They were gunned down because they worked for a newspaper that spoke about the shooter's criminal behavior. I've been thinking and have written about people who think and behavior differently than I. There are many levels of distance as well as many levels of acceptable behavior.   And, I can't change any of it.  I can only decide how I choose to respond to any of this.

From the uneven censorship in the town square of public opinion,  isolating myself seems to be the best way to get through all of this.  I am not much liking people right now.

It isn't easy being psychic, intuitive, and an experiencer.  Or a Scorpio with sun and moon in Scorpio.  I feel things way too deeply.  And, it is burdensome.

Tonight I am meeting a friend for dinner.  My friend's idea, definitely not mine.  The friend is great company but I am not great company these days. I am sad about the world.  Sad about moving.  Still in shock that I am finally moving, but, I will live closer to family.  Finally.  Too many emotions. On both ends!

So it is back to packing these endless bottles of liquid - shampoo, olive oil, lotion, you get the idea.  The movers won't move them so I shall.

It won't be long until I wave to Baltimore on my journey north.  You can't go home again.