A few minutes ago I was walking the trail by the hospital for a few minutes. As the spur I walked merged into the main trail, a man walked up with his cell phone held close to his left ear. I said, “Good morning!” and smiled.
To my surprise, he venomously replied, “It’s past noon!”
I flicked my wrist and looked at my Fitbit. It was 12:01.
Without missing a beat I retorted, “Have you been eating lemons?”
He stopped and said, “What do you mean by that?”
Because I am me, I answered, “You seem awful bitter. Are you okay? Do you need to talk? I have a couple of minutes.”
“No,” he said, and he kept walking.
A little further ahead, alongside the perimeter of the apartments that abut the trail, he stopped at one of the long black benches. I walked up towards him.
He turned towards me and said, “The lemon question was pretty good.”
I sat down on the end of the bench. He soon followed.
And he did talk and told me what was bothering him. After 3 or 4 minutes, I told him to wait there and I had something for him. I walked back to my car and got an old pair of headphones and walked back towards him. I half-expected him to be gone. But he was still there. I handed them the headphones and told him that if he needed a ride I would be glad to give him one.
He thanked me twice. I reached out and shook his hand. He actually smiled.
I used the simple human superpower of humor and listening to turn the lemons in his head into something else.
I’ll let him walk away for a minute before I snapped the picture.
The bright sun above me somehow seemed to shine brighter.
If you behave as if you believe you’re confident, even when you’re not, most other people believe it too. And if you wear clown shoes and talk like you’re crazy, people question you a whole lot less.
Most of the great people I know also hate something about themselves. It’s perplexing. Why is it we can see the exceptional in others but so seldom in ourselves?
As for flaws, it is impossible for you to be certain that someone else won’t find them to be endearing or fascinating. Unless your flaw is personality-driven, as when you practice hatchet-throwing in my direction.
So, stop looking at yourself that way.
If you’re not going to change it, revel in it. You’re living life for yourself, so that other people can see you for who are.
PS It is really hard to get to know a facade. Breathe fire if you can, flaws and all.
The first time he saw her, she was walking quickly past him. She looked up briefly at him, her eyes glinting in the sun, her glasses perched precariously on her nose. And then she smiled. Josh almost tripped as he nervously returned her smile. He noted her black turquoise sundress billowing on her in the gentle breeze.
He wanted to turn and look as she passed him. He held his breath for three of four seconds before he turned to look. As he paused, she quickly turned in his direction and looked back at him. She smiled again. And then she waved, grabbed the edges of her sundress above her knees, and curtsied. Josh was frozen in place. He quickly gave her a quick wave and then walked away. A smile soon spread across his face.
Within seconds, he felt his lips go numb as he walked. She was pretty, of that there was no doubt. Probably eccentric. Her smile cycled through his head repeatedly. Forgetting his meeting in twenty minutes, he turned and ran back along the path. He didn’t consider catching up to her or what he might say.
As he turned the bend in the walking path along the business park, he didn’t have time to pretend he wasn’t running. She sat on one of the green and yellow park benches, leaning back nonchalantly, her left arm draped across the back of the bench. Josh slowed his run and kept walking toward her. The awkwardness almost overwhelmed him. Instinct took over. She wasn’t fleeing him.
As he neared her, he tried in vain to summon the right words.
She surprised him by speaking first. “Don’t you know you shouldn’t chase girls?” She smiled again. “Come sit here and introduce yourself.”
He numbly walked up to the bench and sat within two feet of her.
“Well,” she said, “Do you have a name?”
“Yes,” he answered. “Oh, it’s Josh.”
“Josh, I’m Jasmine. Pleasure to meet you.” She held out her right hand Josh took it. Her fingers curled around his and gently shook his hand.
She didn’t seem nervous or anxious about the moment of silence that fell between them.
“Why did you chase after me? This is your chance to do it right. I can guess, but I need to you say it.” She smiled and winked at him.
He’d never met anyone so confident or self-assured. Her black turquoise sundress lay against her legs. Her eyes sparkled behind her glasses.
“You smiled at me. It was like you saw me. You know what I mean. You’re a pretty lady. Pretty ladies don’t look at me.” Josh was stammering.
“They don’t? That’s too bad, Josh. You are an attractive man. Nervous, maybe, but we can work on that.” She waited for him to reply.
When no words came from Josh, Jasmine reached inside the small pocket of her sundress and pulled out a cellphone and little wallet holder. She extricated a business card and reached over to him.
He accepted it as if it were radioactive. He turned the card over. On the front, a silhouette of a woman and dark hair. Jasmine. Her phone number and email.
When he looked back up at her, she smiled again and said, “Call me. Don’t think about it. Just do it. I believe in this kind of capricious moment, Josh.”
Jasmine stood up and curtsied toward him again. She turned, her sundress twirling. Josh noted she wore white sneakers. He noted the gentle curve of her legs, too.
She walked away as if she had no care in the world.
Josh sat on the park bench, his eyes looking at the business card blindly. Suddenly, he realized he would be late for his meeting. He found himself running back in the opposite direction. When he arrived, he was panting and sat down at the conference table. Though the matter at hand required his attention, he discovered that he spent most of the meeting gazing out the window at the expanse of the park that ran parallel to the business park.
When the meeting concluded, Josh skipped the elevator and walked to the stairs, taking them two and three at a time. As he exited the building, he walked toward the small man-made creek next to the walking path. He took his phone from his pocket and nervously dialed Jasmine’s number before paralysis overtook him.
It rang three times. He decided she wouldn’t answer an unknown number. On the fourth ring, just as voicemail was about to engage, she answered.
Her voice sounded heavenly. “What took you so long, Josh?” She laughed.
“How did you know it was me?” he asked, a little confused.
“Fate told me you’d call.” She paused.
“I don’t get a lot of calls from fate,” he said.
She laughed.
“That’s a good start and a witty answer. We’re going to change that too.” He could hear the smile in her voice.
“Let’s talk about when we can meet and share some laughter. And whatever else percolates.” Her voice resonated with confidence.
“I’d like nothing better, Jasmine.”
They talked for twenty more minutes, their banter growing.
When he hung up, he stood by the creek, watching it flow.
Optimism gripped him for the first time in a long time.
My favorite belt is older than a forgotten box of toenails. I’ve added 16″ of extra holes to it and cut it off twice. I have had a new one hanging in my closet for the day when I would be ready. Much to my shock, I had to drill eight extra inches of holes in it for it to fit properly. For any of you who are waiting for the new year to start your New Year’s resolutions, I hope you will take this tired old failure’s words of advice: you can do it without the gym, without upending your life, or feeling like a failure on your bad days. All it takes is a clear vision of what you want in life. You can pay the price and you can do it incrementally. With the right mindset, you’ll get little victories that add up. You will also have days where you feel like nothing is going right. If you start the journey and feel yourself waning, reach out to me. One of my superpowers is that I am a motivator. Love yourself and find a way to give yourself the opportunities to be who you want to be. If you’re already happy with who you are: be weird and let the fire breathe from your mouth so that people will know who you are.
Listen, if you come into my apartment, you’re going to need to pay attention. I have so many little goofy things and pranks laying about.
This morning, as the landlord and I carried my new water heater up the steps, he came inside and was pleased that I’d contained the leaking water heater.
As he left, he looked at my doorknob and smiled. He didn’t say anything, but he shook his head.
On the inside of the doorknob, I’d left a pair of panties hanging there, like a perverted Xmas remnant. Don’t worry, Susan never even knew they were missing. Who is Susan? I have no idea, either.
I hope she’s not cold, though, whoever she is!
And these moments are what make life so damned fun.
Love, X .
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.
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“It’s better to give than receive.” I’m not sure my downstairs neighbor agrees. It turns out that my water heater was giving the floor a constant drip of water, saturating the ceiling below until it gave way. That was a small part of my Xmas day, constantly emptying the little container that would fit between my water heater and the board in front of it. PS I am SO grateful that I waited for an upstairs apartment.
Janus and Rob sang along to the Christmas music as they drove through the rural roads. They both disliked holiday music – except when they were together. They then caroled each other constantly, to their friend’s horror. Neither sang well. Their howling dog Sir Barkalot consistently voted loudly with a wail when they sang for too long. In the confines of the small car on a cold winter December 24th, though, they created the perfect repository for their mutual enjoyment.
Neither dared think about their destination. It was enough to continue the tradition, now unbroken for thirteen years. They woke up on Christmas Eve morning, drank a gallon of coffee each, and then wrapped themselves in warm clothing and drove to the same cherished spot.
Because they’d done so for thirteen years, Rob already knew he had to stop about halfway there; otherwise, Janus would howl in mimicry of Sir Barkalot until he did. As they sang “Little Drummer Boy” in raucous unison, Rob noted the mile marker that indicated he would have to turn off the main road in a couple of minutes. Janus must have noted the same thing. As “The Little Drummer Boy” ended, she mashed the audio button to “Off” as they neared the turnoff.
In the back seat, there was a small lunchbox. Inside it: two rocks, one from each of them. Each year, the lunchbox changed to something similar to whatever was popular.
Rob navigated the turnoff and slowed. The gravel road was rough, and almost no one traveled it. Luckily, this year, there was no snow to worsen it.
He recalled spending weekends with his grandparents, who had lived nearby. He accidentally discovered a deep, surprisingly clear pond on his adventure excursions. It was there that he proposed to Janus years later. She screamed, “Yes!” much to the dismay of all the nearby birds.
Rob drove to the poorly-maintained gate and stopped, turning the ignition off. “Are you ready?” he asked Janus. She nodded.
They both exited the car. Rob opened the back door and removed the lunchbox. He looked a bit absurd, he knew.
Despite the cold, he held Janus’ right hand as they passed through the gap in the gate and fence. Within a couple of minutes, they reached the pond. It wasn’t frozen over.
Janus leaned to kiss Rob, who was already expecting it.
He held the lunchbox out and opened it. “Don’t look,” he reminded her. “How am I going to know which rock is mine, then?” she asked. It was their joke each year. She peeked in and removed her rock.
Rob put the lunchbox down on the brown grass and removed his rock.
They walked to the edge of the pond, staring at the water.
Janus looked at her rock to read the name written there. “Jacqueline,” she whispered.
Rob read the name written in marker on his rock: “Suzanne.”
Some years, the names were both boys’ names; never had both been feminine.
Janus threw her rock first. It was an awkward toss but sailed halfway across the vast pond. Rob launched his rock, and it landed within a couple of feet of the other bank.
Janus motioned for Rob to come closer. He stood next to her with his left arm around her waist. She tilted her head onto his shoulder as they both stared across the pond. Both of them were considering a life that almost was.
A few moments later, they both felt the moment pass. They turned to walk back to the waiting car.
“Do you think your mom and dad are tired of Astro yet?” Janice laughed as she asked Rob the same question she’d asked him last night and again this morning.
“Duh! An eight-year-old wants everything. They probably have him tied up on the front porch rocking chair at this point.” He paused. “You know what, though? We should stop for breakfast on the way.”
They both laughed, knowing that they would indeed stop.
By the time they turned around to leave the old gravel road, both were thinking of the beautiful Christmas awaiting them. And how much they had spoiled their adopted son Astro.
They counted themselves among the lucky few. Loss? Yes? But life and love also.
Janus hit the “On” button to resume the Christmas music. They both wanted to howl and sing as one should on such a day.
It is indeed just a lamp post. Above it, the December sun warms me. Whatever I’m experiencing is almost the opposite of mindfulness. I clocked out at work to walk down the hill to my car. Minutes later, I realized I was walking south on the trail. My feet must have vetoed my routine because I hadn’t even thought about the fact that I was briskly walking, listening to the creek adjacent to the trail, and lost in my thoughts. Before finishing work for the day, I had two disparate moments. The first was a surprise bit of irritation thrown upon me, an undeserved one, from someone responding to words of kindness and appreciation I had offered. Momentarily, my head filled with confusion and disappointment. The second moment was a laughter-filled conversation. When I realized I was walking on the trail, I looked up to see that lamp post illuminated by the bright sun. A congruent and companion light went off in my head. Which of the two disparate moments before leaving work do you think filled my heart? All moments can have meaning, especially if we are intuitive or paying attention. At the apex of my unintended walk, I sat on a ledge overlooking the creek below. The sun sits to the right above me warming my shoulders, even though the rest of me sits in shadows provided by a huge tree. The concrete blocks below me are cool and refreshing. The creek runs swiftly enough to babble its own language. Strangely, I feel like I know what it’s saying: flow, movement, and destination. All that kinetic energy around the low water bridge and walkway that traverses the creek. On one side, a tranquil pool that hides motion. On the other, a boisterous discharge of water trying to find its place. I know I will have to get up and walk back to my car. I think I will keep the sound of the creek in my head for a while and feel the warmth of the sun on my shoulders. I choose to remember the laughter and to forget the irritation. This walk was a stolen moment.
She set the timer for six hours, trusting that technology would rescue her from laziness the next morning.
Her entire life, she lived, expecting tomorrow to be better.
Today, as her head filled with hope and optimism, she had decided to ask the universe for a dual-citizenship: one homeland being her past, the other being her future.
If she jettisoned her past without appreciating the lessons, she knew she would never be happy.
A friend of hers had confessed that he woke up one morning to hear a bell in his head, one that revealed that he could succeed after twenty years of failure.
“Just like that?” she asked him.
He nodded. The way he nodded conveyed the truth of his acknowledgment.
For days, the idea of an awakening had plagued her. She silently begged the universe for such a revelation.
As she sat in traffic, waiting for the interminable light to change, she realized that her life was stuck in traffic. Though she didn’t hear a bell, the simplicity of the movement she needed became clear to her.
She came home and moved through the quotidian chores that fill people’s lives. The rituals needed to complete her evening passed without notice. She was on autopilot. For years.
Until she brushed her teeth. As she looked in the mirror, it hit her. She was the author of her own destiny.
Tomorrowland was hers.
She couldn’t wait to surprise the world with her revelation.
“Life is like looking for your phone. Most of the time, it’s in your hand.”
Today’s brooch was made from a very old badge my manager discovered last week. I wrote “252” on it. That’s how much I weighed in the picture. I’m 105 lbs. lighter now. The part that continues to remind me is the new people who come into my life. They didn’t know me as fat. A couple of them had to be convinced. That’s a strange, wonderful thought. None of them have inaccurate misconceptions of me, either, so they look at me as if I’m just X. That’s wonderful, too. It reminds me of decades ago when I changed my name; it allowed me to easily identify those who loved me for who I was without regard to my name. Not a day passes that my name doesn’t bring a question, a laugh, or a story. Having a ridiculous name saves me the trouble of needing to tell people I’m probably eccentric. (Whether I look like a professional bowler or curler is up to you to decide.) * ^
“I keep fighting voices in my mind that say I’m not enough Every single lie that tells me I will never measure up Am I more than just the sum of every high and every low Remind me once again just who I am because I need to know” “You Say,” Lauren Daigle
All of you who can feel God’s love are fortunate. I mean that without snark. All love is housed in one’s heart. Believing that you’re loved in any form is something to strive for.
* ^
Because of my blog, people find me and read the ridiculously long and circuitous path of my life I’ve left there. It’s told higgledy-piggledy, with huge omissions and P.S.-sidepaths; it’s just the way I like it. It is both consoling and astonishing when someone discovers it and finds something worthwhile in it or me. When you commit things to writing and especially publicly, there is no return to privacy or withdrawal. It’s both faith and lunacy. As direct as I’ve been, there are hundreds of stories that I haven’t shared, mostly because of the overlap in other people’s lives. A lot of my joy and anguish are difficult to share for that reason. It’s not that I don’t want to. I’d prefer to spill it out. I can’t imagine that I’ve experienced much that a lot of other people haven’t – that’s the joy of peeking behind curtains in life. * ^
“State your truth” is such a vulnerable thing to do. Or say. I’ve become so open about it that I’ve forgotten that people need camouflage. We are all so similar in our vexations and pleasures. Knowing this at 54 is almost a superpower. But I do revel when I am able to witness someone letting the wall down and just sharing, even if it astonishes them as they do so. Sunlight and revelation bring peace. So many people are carrying secrets or thoughts of a different way to live. They don’t see the options until they see no way to continue.
“Buried emotions are always buried alive,” someone smart told me once. * ^
“Some people are empaths. I’m a telepath; people want me as far from them as possible.” – X * ^
“Hey X, do you smoke marijuana?”
“No, I prefer the natural flavor.”
That one took him a minute to understand. * ^
I think I’ll forego a regular walk or run today and see if I can run 100 floors of stairs. That seems fair, doesn’t it? My heartbeat objects. Maybe it knows the inventory of my allotted steps in life? Either way, my heart owes me a debt for liberating it from the sheath of excess that I put on it for two decades. And I owe it an apology. I’m lucky I didn’t give up, even as I constantly failed. Until I didn’t. It’s not the path that matters so much; it’s where you end up. * ^ To a specific friend, if you read this post, a phlebotomist I met at my doctor’s appointment LOVED your catchphrase: “Nothing tastes as good as this feels.” His eyes went wide and then he laughed. “Exactly!” he said. “I’m going to steal that without question. It’s perfect.” He’s a bodyweight fitness nut and looks like a flattened barrel in his upper torso. He wanted to know my story and secrets – and I shared both your phrase and The Blue Dress Project’s catchphrase, “Choose Your Hard.” He couldn’t believe my transformation and I told him that between the bell going off in my head and seeing people like you do it with a lot more obstacles than me, that I knew I was supposed to succeed. He understood, having done it himself. Don’t be surprised if it ends up on social media. * ^ The man who taught me one-on-one how to end an altercation quickly (and violently, if necessary) recommended a browser-based productivity timer. It works crazily well. I can set it for 5-minute increments. When the alarm of my choosing sounds, it’s time to do another interval of weights and/or stairs. Because I do most of my writing sitting at the computer, it’s a great way to create thoughtless and repetitive chunks of exercise. Because of the law of increments, I can artificially get a lot of movement each hour instead of relying on my motivation. The cat hates it though, especially if he’s perched on my lap as I type. * ^ The Lexapro is working very well. So is therapy. And time passing. As the curtains of other people’s lives continue to open to me, I realize that my problems are real – but inconsequential compared to the complexities that other people are living. It’s great that some parts of my life are a motivation to people. It’s also okay that some parts should serve as a warning. None of us are pristine or untouched by trauma, loss, indecision, doubt, or wanting. * ^ My “Ask” project is working well for me. It’s failed consistently, but that failure is changing me. I can feel it and observe it as it works its way into my nature. Some of the ongoing “No” has hurt me in a way that surprised and upset me. But I’ve kept asking, feeling the wave of “No” click a meter in my head. I don’t know where the true fulcrum of some of it lies; I’ll trust my instincts when it does. Once the meter has run to zero, we have to accept the truth of whatever we’ve been asking.
Ask Ask for what you want or desire. If you don’t, it is a certainty you’ll never get it. Ask of life and ask of people. The answer, though bitter or not what you sought… It’s at least the truth. Everything starts from there Ask * ^ I walk past the place where the deceased are kept until they are retrieved for their funerals and remembrance. I walk past a lot. I’m surrounded during the day. By love, concern, fear, hundreds of individual stories unfold. How odd it is that such finality and drama barely pierces people’s consciousness. I know we have to protect ourselves or otherwise be flooded. Sometimes, though, we need to remember the hourglass sifting sand invisibly behind us. It’s a valuable motivator to know that your day is not a promise. It’s a gift, one which many of us waste on triviality. * ^ Somewhere In Time
I had another life, a Lowenstein of my own. She walks the planet, fulfilled, and not alone. The lesson is that everyone has a tightly drawn curtain. When they fling it open, there is beauty and assertion. To see someone from within their own head is a joy. It’s agony when the curtain closes again, a closure that can destroy. Every nuance and experience in life will change us, if not derange us. There is no return to the before. There is only the after and absence, paired with infinite reenactments. Time does not cure us; it erodes us. To know that somewhere in time, that your life did not branch away from you, is a breathtaking comfort and inner chime.
He heard her laugh from a couple of aisles over. He was about to place his six simple items on the belt by the cashier. He pushed his cart to the side when she laughed again and abandoned it. Whoever owned that laugh was someone he had to see. The hair on the back of his neck felt like an unseen hand had artfully brushed against it.
He kept looking for the person that laugh belonged to but couldn’t seem to pinpoint it. Then, he glimpsed her standing next to the spices and glancing up at the cinnamon placed unnecessarily and rudely high on the shelf, with one earbud in. It had to be her; the only other women in the vicinity were already collecting their pensions.
She was nodding to nobody as a smile cracked across her face under her mask.
Then another laugh.
Though he would not usually approach anyone, he felt his feet glide toward her. Though he had no expectations as to what she might look like, he felt an unfamiliar sense of familiarity when he looked at her. Just as he was about to speak, she turned halfway toward him, her eyes sparkling, the fading laugh leaving her eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but felt his throat clamp. He just nodded in silence.
She pulled her mask down to reveal a smile. “Well, hello there, stranger.” The ‘hello’ he warmly and hesitantly uttered crept its way across his lips as they moved, creasing the corners of his eyes.
“Could you help me get the cinnamon? I’m trying to make the family cookie recipe for the Christmas celebration. I was warned not to get the cheap stuff,” she said, rambling to herself. He watched her face move with the words as his feet shot roots into the ground beneath him to keep his heart from soaring out of his chest.
He kept staring until she looked from side to side behind him and then back in his face. “umm…Frankie? Can you get the cinnamon, please? I still have to bake tonight.” He kept staring. There she was. His heart was beating rapidly; there was sweat on his brow. The clerk announced BBQ and 4th of July deals over the loudspeaker. He blinked and inhaled hard, and then she was gone again.
Between heartbeats, time dilated. Frankie watched his arm reach up and pick out a lovely brand of cinnamon. When he handed it to her, her nimble fingers brushed his. The jolt awakened him. She smiled and asked, “Are you okay?” He nodded. “Wait,” he said, his voice almost disembodied. “Do I know you? I feel like I do.” She laughed at him as if he’d asked the most ridiculous and amusing question possible. “Not really, no. But I think we’re going to know each other very well, depending on whether you can answer one simple question.”
Frankie nodded and swallowed as Amelia grinned mischievously and pulled out her earbuds. This was a big test. He didn’t even know it yet. There was only one acceptable answer, but a close second would allow him to have an opportunity to prove himself further. “Which Star Trek captain is the best?” she asked as she slipped the cinnamon into a place of prestige in her shopping cart. “Thank you, by the way.”
Frankie didn’t even pause to answer: “Picard. He’s brilliant, ethical, and emotional, perfectly blended. But you know that. If I can make you laugh before you turn and walk away, will you let me talk to you again? Anywhere or anywhen you want.”
Amelia wrinkled her nose, made a noise like a buzzer, and made a thumbs-down signal. She then laughed again. Frankie’s spine shivered again. “That is not correct, so I’m not sure about any sort of prize here.” The room seemed to pulse and fade in and out of Frankie’s vision as the Christmas music faded to summer-time special promotions again. He stood there, alone, in the spice aisle in his Birkenstocks. “Oh God, not again,” he thought to himself and choked back the tears creeping dangerously close to slipping from his eyes in the middle of the spices.
He was lost somewhere in time again, the memories of lost love flooding him. He picked out a container of cinnamon and held it in his hand. Even though people passed him, no one noted the single tear that slid along his cheek and down to his hand holding the bottle. “Amelia,” he whispered.
“It’s better to give than receive.” I’m not sure my downstairs neighbor agrees. It turns out that my water heater was giving the floor a constant drip of water, saturating the ceiling below until it gave way. That was a small part of my Xmas day, constantly emptying the little container that would fit between my water heater and the board in front of it. PS I am SO grateful that I waited for an upstairs apartment.
