Note:  This post came out of a project called Thirty Voices, for which nearly thirty women in their thirties living in various parts of the world wrote about various themes over the course of a year.  I don’t remember most of the themes attached to the posts I’ve kept, but at least with this one I can recall that it had something to do with a making a mixed tape..

As I thought about what I’d put on my mixed tape, I realized that the songs on my list are attached to phases rather than events. And from there clear as day popped the attitudes and beliefs of each phase, rather than other details, like who, what, where, why.

These songs aren’t necessarily my must-haves should I, say, become stranded on a desert island with my iPod playlists intact. They simply reflect the music I was/am drawn to at the time.

1. The Smiths — There Is A Light That Never Goes Out
2. Replacements — Answering Machine
3. Kate Bush — Hounds of Love

Always dissatisfied with the here and now. Dream and scheme about the future. Too young to be concerned with the past. So serious about everything. Torn between being “good” and being good at rebelling. Hamstrung by shyness. Going where others lead. Mistakes are the end of the world. Drama, drama, drama. Long drawn out sighs. The glass isn’t empty, but I can’t figure out why no one is stepping in to top it up. continue reading…

I’ve been chewing on the mental leftovers from a post I wrote for the Thirty Voices blog last week. The topic for the posting challenge was about what time do you live in — past, present or future? I loved this question. I was unsettled by the answer. While I thought I had made significant strides in living in the here and now, I realized that I’m still very future oriented, and this renewed awareness proved to be an interesting, muscular kick-in-the-pants.

Raising one’s awareness sometimes feels like you’re actually going down the long ladder of a deep tunnel. It’s not necessarily scary, this descent, but it’s perplexing and paradoxical: to reach the heights of profound knowledge one has to first descend to some depth of understanding.

Understanding entails some data-mining, and I’ve been doing that by noodling on my relationship with time. What I’ve discovered thus far is that my interactions with time emit a strong, potent flavor of waiting.

What am I waiting for? A lot, I suspect, but here’s what I know for sure:

– For summer to be over — for the mosquitoes to disappear, for when it’s cool enough to turn off the A/C and open the windows.

– For the big move scheduled in April.

– For a change in politics as usual, for meaningful discussion and action around the issues that isn’t hamstrung and suppressed by the various election cycles and polarizing partisanship.

– For progress with certain projects that I know I have to tackle one step at a time, one phase at a time, one day at a time.

– For lunch. Since breakfast I’ve been wanting it to be lunch. (Tuna salad wrap or chicken noodle soup? Leftover curry, maybe?)

When it comes to arriving at answers and understanding, a death can inspire long legged leaps forward. One of my aunts died early Friday morning after three years of struggling — hard — to not die from cancer. She was waiting for all sorts of things — for the cancer to go into remission, for relief from the hellish effects of her chemotherapy cocktails, for a fair shot at her dream of resuming a normal life.

When she decided to stop waiting and to stop fighting the cancer that had out-maneuvered her in every way, her surrender (I’m told) was quick, peaceful and sweet. Her family filled the room. If nothing else, she knew she had earned her rest. Her wait was/is different from mine. Her wait sat in the hands of factors beyond her control, and yet it was paired with purposeful action. That’s quite a legacy, and it’s available to all of us.

It would be easy to lapse into a judgmental comparisons between my waiting and that of my aunt. But, that would just undercut the power to be tapped from my aunt’s example. Staying curious about my relationship with time and my holding patterns will deliver a better infusion of juice.

Ironically, I’m not in a hurry to get to the bottom rung of this question. I don’t want the shortest path or a hurried conclusion. Although endless noodling can become just another away of stalling — of waiting — right now I think I’m moving along my ladder and through my tunnel at a good pace and in good form.

Today is the memorial service for my aunt and this post would not feel complete unless I sent wishes that my aunt’s spirit is fully content, full with peace.

Note:  This post came out of a project called Thirty Voices, for which nearly thirty women in their thirties living in various parts of the world wrote about various themes over the course of a year.  I don’t remember the themes for most of the pieces I’ve kept, but at least with this one I would hazard a guess that it has something to do with whether I lived in the past, present  or future.

As I thought about whether I tend to live in the past, the present or the future, the answer emerged easily, speedily. While a fast answer is convenient, it also brought unease as it clearly shows that I haven’t made as much progress in this area as I would have liked.

It’s something I’ve been noodling about for a while, and something I’ve been trying to adjust. This old habit of mine, though, appears to be hanging around. As Pooh used to say upon discovering an empty honey pot, “oh bother.”

If it’s time for anything, it’s time to fess up that I put a lot of energy into anticipating, imagining, building for the future. I want to be more in the here and now, to relish the present. I want there to be a better balancing point between all three. I’m certain I would get more out of my very good life if I were to achieve these two goals.

I could argue that the pending move to France is the source of my refurbished future orientation. It’s a big change happening months down the road. No wonder the future figures so largely! And, I have no doubt that I could conjure up other well-rounded arguments justifying my tendency. What nonetheless stands out — sharply silhouetted — is the disconnect between what I say I want and what I do.

continue reading…

In sorting through some newspaper clippings today, I was reunited with an obit I’d clipped from the NY Times back in July. I don’t normally comb the times for obituaries. This one caught my attention because it was about the woman who pioneered the merchandising of Winnie the Pooh and friends. Setting aside any opinions about (excessive) merchandising, Shirley Slesinger Lasswell’s story is proof positive that possibility is abundant in this world, and that our life trajectories are not cemented by where they begin.

Mrs. Lasswell was Broadway showgirl when she met her first hubby, literary agent Stephen Slesinger. Mr. Slesinger had paid $1000 in 1930 for the rights to A. A. Milne’s characters. Fast forward to 1953, Mr. Slesinger dies and his widow picked up where he had began with marketing products a la Pooh. Actually she didn’t just carry on with business as usual. She expanded the business with her own ideas and using good old fashioned sweat labor: “…she pounded the pavement and peddled her ideas in all the wholesale districts of of New York….” Ultimately she signed a royalty agreement with Walt Disney in exchange for the licensing rights. Not bad for a woman who was a late bloomer in the world of business.

Mrs. Lasswell was a woman of vision and pluck and chutzpah. And love. For Pooh. For opportunity, I imagine, and imagination and grit and likely much, much more.

Oprah has a quote about luck that says something like, “luck = preparation + opportunity.” Mrs. Lasswell’s life story is such great example of how preparation for opportunity comes in surprising, unexpected forms. Sometimes, there’s a kind of fuzzy logic to it.

Don’t write her off her business instincts because she began as a dancer. Her Broadway days, no doubt, were preparation for building relationships, persuasion and presentation. No doubt that proved useful years later when she sought to convince Sak’s and Bergdorf’s to set up Pooh zones in their stores where book readings could be held.

Before you knock what you’re doing right now, give it another looksee. Look at things from the filter of this question: how might your life right now be preparation for opportunities down the road? Finding the value of where you are right now in life won’t dim or subvert your ambitions. It will make you smarter and more aware of what you carry forward from this stepping stone to the next.