Finding myself....at the beach!

“The more room you give yourself to express your true thoughts and feelings, the more room there is for your wisdom to emerge.”

— Marianne Williamson

Sometimes the answer we seek is right before us, already present for our awareness.  We create a veil of resistance and self doubt, thinking it could be too good to be true or that we don't deserve it for a multitude of reasons. Maybe we lack a degree or certificate to validate our qualification.  In the past, our greatest success may have been our self rationalization for failure.  

A few days ago, to celebrate a friend's birthday, we traveled to the tiny town of Stinson Beach.  Close to home, yet an adventure to get to, you must drive up and around a mountain that separates us from the sea.  The road is steep, undulating with very tight curves and has no shoulder for safety.  A feat of engineering, it hugs the mountain and offers breath taking views.  Metaphorically, it is a journey of effort, steep, narrow, direct but full of curves and drop offs into treetops or rocky cliffs.  Often shrouded in fog, you can't see the next curve ahead.  Every now and then, nature allows an area to pull off so impatient and intrepid travelers may pass you.  The risk takers drive quickly, they know their destination and feel false security since they know the direction they travel.  The road, however, is shared with avid endurance cyclists and deer.  Curves, blind spots and the presence of others does not slow them down..  It is the only way to get to the beach front communities.

A perfect day at the beach, sun, sand, waves. Children are building castles and dogs dashing into the surf to retrieve balls with glee and glistening shakes to cool laughing spectators.  Picnic basket in hand, we settle on a spot by the dunes.  The sand is so hot that we have to race for the shoreline. After a long walk, we enjoy the lunch I packed along with an icy lemonade and fresh juicy peaches.  Living in the moment, all worries drop away.  

Before heading home, we take a stroll through the quaint town.  A few art galleries and a book store, we want to be sure to visit a favorite little gift shop. We arrive to find it transformed.  The owner of many years had retired.  The new proprietress, Emmeline, introduced herself.  Petite in stature, she is a huge presence of spiritual grace, wisdom and artistic talent.  A beautiful painter, Emmeline has transformed the small place into an airy gallery showcasing her work and that of other artists. She invites us to sit and shares her story. Her French accent is captivating and her joy apparent in making her long held dream come true.  As an artist, she wanted to open a gallery for a very long time.  To support her painting, she worked several days a weeks in a restaurant.  When this shop became available after many years, she did not hesitate.  She spoke of courage, faith, compelling desire, and working in congruence with one's passion. Everyone desires to express something.  She asked about each of us.  

The birthday girl, Alison, now celebrating 72 years of adventure, travel, and spiritual wisdom seeking, is a nurse. She specialized in healthcare in large corporate settings.  She now seeks to give back to the community as a holistic Reiki practitioner.  As a cancer survivor, she loves supporting others on their journey to recovery.  Recently, Alison made a dream come true by singing with a chorus at the Healdsburg Jazz Festival. Publicly giving voice to the love in her heart through music was a powerful expression of her passion for life.  It took daring to put herself out there,  never dreaming to be recognized for the beauty of her unique voice. 

Myself?  After spending many years in the field of interior design, I no longer find the joy in it.  It became all about business and budgets and schedules and the bottom line out of sync with creative expression.  Physical circumstance took me out of the work force and compelled me to slow down and explore new avenues of expression.  In my ideal world is a book and speaking tour.......pure fantasy?  Perhaps.  Fear of financial failure creates real resistance.  Fear of critique?  Oh, yes, that too.  I've explored many interests through the years, learned a lot of lessons along the way.  I enjoy thought provoking conversations, am a really good listener and love inspiring others with the courage to try something new.  One therapist told me ( no shame in asking for help when you need it) " You have faced some rare and powerful challenges.  It's given you a master's degree in Life, so use it!".   Sharing through my love affair with words has become a creative compulsion.  Yes, I still love creating beautiful houses. More importantly, I love creating harmonious interiors in heart and head to manifest happy homes. 

Meeting Emmeline encouraged me to examine my resistance and let the dream become reality.  No wonder the name of her gallery is The Blissful Gallery.  Objets d'Art & Art de Vivre.   Where Art Makes You Feel Good...   Paintings, Glass, Clay, Wood and More....  I would say, so much more!

You can visit her at www.emmelinecraig.com.

New meaning to the dog days of summer

Stress squelches my creativity.  When circumstances are difficult and beyond my control, the expressive little fairies in my mind flee and hide under a rock somewhere.  So now, not only is there stress, but the joy of being in creative flow disappears. A double whammy.  

It is time to take a lesson from the dogs.  Do they wallow in regret or wonder about the future?   Heck no.  Kleptomaniac Bentley allows himself to be distracted by other things, like my favorite wristwatch.  I found it mangled in pieces in the yard about an hour after slipping it off my wrist and setting it on the table.  Was he consumed with guilt?  Not a chance.  Did he struggle with self doubt after making a bad choice?  No way.  Is he losing sleep over causing disappointment?  Not by the snores I hear.  Does he still have faith that treats will come and he deserves them?  Oh yeah.  His tail still wags as he waits at the canine cookie jar.  Dogs are so about living in the present, taking what they want, even seemingly out of reach..  They live with gusto, follow their intuition ( and their nose) don't drop the ball unless it is to play with something else and they take a nap when tired.  They wake up each morning with anticipation and forget about the trip to the vet that was so yesterday.  They communicate clearly with a bark, whine or insistent nudge and demand strokes of affection.  They grasp the concept of instant forgiveness and are content with the small pleasures in life, a walk, a hug, a cookie and companionship.  

Perhaps Bentley was channeling a Greater Wisdom when he destroyed my watch.  Stop living by appointments and deadlines.  Sometimes the timing is divine and not mine to control. If I must wait on someone else, seize the moment for a walk, a cookie or a nap.  Oh, and never skip breakfast.  It's the best start to the new day!

Day One on a Diet and Already Damned

I am not food obsessed, truly.  I don't snack between meals and I fast forward through the fast food commercials on my favorite recorded tv shows. Reality hit squarely in the eye when I tried on a pair of white shorts that fit just fine last summer.  Oh, they zipped up, but this year they looked like a horizontal seersucker with puckers everywhere.  It seems like I have been on the Murphy's Law diet for awhile now.  I've been wanting to shed a few pounds for a year.  They wouldn't budge.  Then the doctor prescribed a new and necessary medication and I gained ten pounds instead.  That has pushed me up a pants size.  I REFUSE to buy bigger clothes.  Lately, I've been homesick for New Jersey.  I haven't been back for a visit in too many years.  Seeing old classmates and friends on Facebook has made me nostalgic.  Then I caught a glimpse of my behind in the mirror and noticed that my rear looks the size of my home state. Thank God I'm not from Texas!

My mother has lost fifteen pounds recently drinking an herbal tea.  Claiming not to have changed what she is eating, she just drinks two quarts of this tea a day.  Sounds good. I love tea.  So while visiting her for almost a week, I drank this tea that I cannot pronounce every day.  An herbal blend from Mexico, it is quite tasty even unsweetened.  Did I lose a single pound? Nada.   Mom claims a man she knows lost forty pounds just drinking this tea.  My theory is that he began substituting it for beer and the pounds just fell off.

So, I virtuously started my day with a protein smoothie.  Half cup of water, half cup of plain nonfat kefir ( probiotics are good for me, right?) a scoop of vanilla whey protein, half cup of fresh berries.  Push start on the handy bullet blender and a 200 calories meal whirls into creamy perfection.  Yum.    Off to run errands, finishing up about noon.  Exiting the hardware store, I avoid the hot dog truck wafting mouthwatering fragrance and making my stomach growl.  First temptation conquered successfully.  I feel like doing the happy dance in the end zone.  I head for home to enjoy another protein shake, this time with pineapple and fresh orange.  Variety is the spice of life and I don't want to get bored by the second meal on the very first day.  I visualize the Texas cheerleaders bouncing to " portion control, portion control, yay team".   

Then the saboteur shows up.  Roger says, " let's go check out our favorite Andy's new store on Fifth."   He never ever suggests a trip just out of curiosity.  Being so out of his ordinary routine, I don't want to squelch the spontaneity.  I also suspect the end of the world may be coming and I don't want to die alone.  Off we go to traipse up an down aisles of chips, crackers, chilled wine, specialty beer and gourmet pizzas loaded.  We decide that we prefer our local Andy's market which has a great deli, fresh seafood and a much larger produce selection.

  Only thirty minutes after drinking my liquid lunch and I am ravenous.  Seeing all of that food, my hunger must be mind over matter. Right?  If I don't mind, it doesn't matter.  Wrong!  So, I've only had maybe four hundred calories and dinner is five hours off.  A little tuna salad on a teensy bit of crisp French bread may tide me over with a big glass of herbal tea.  I manage to survive the next three hours with intensive housework as a distraction.

Happy hour arrives and Roger makes an ice cold martini, two giant olives.  That I can resist. But out comes the piece of imported provolone.....okay.....just two small bites.  I make his dinner including red potato oven fries with garlic and Parmesan which I almost resist, but not quite.  After all, I have to taste for crispness.  I skip dinner, planning to meet a friend for a salad after we set up her bridal registry at Crate and Barrel.   Off I trot to the mall to browse Barnes and Noble before I meet her.  I find a parking space right out side of See's Chocolates where they are passing out free samples of caramels covered in, oh yes, irresistible chocolate.  Just one to tide me over until the salad.  Into the bookstore where I check out the best sellers, then the bargain books.  Do I really need the complete illustrated guide to the human body for twenty dollars?  Maybe for Liam.  Maybe not, since he is only four months old.   Then I end up in the cookbooks.     Feeling like I am furtively reading porn, I flip through the biggest, glossiest ones vicariously looking at the photos.  Ask anyone who has tried it, photographing food is an art form.  

I glance at my watch and it is time to rendezvous  at Crate and Barrel.  Finally meeting the love of her life over age forty, we are enjoying all of the traditions of the bride to be.  We arrive at the store just two doors down to discover that they close early on Saturdays at 7 pm.  Who knew?  I was planning to burn some serious calories going up and down every aisle.  Curses, foiled again!  With the San Francisco fog cascading over the hill in gale force gusts and a twenty degree drop in temperature, salad no longer seems so appealing.  We head into La Maison instead for steaming bowls of Vietnamese Pho.  I cave to a sizzling platter of chicken curry over crispy noodles.

Who starts a diet on Saturday anyway?  My navy shorts still fit.  Monday is definitely a better day to make a fresh start.

My mother, myself

How often do we hear " Yikes, I've become my mother!".?  Meeting with close friends over tea yesterday, the conversation explored our relationships with our mothers and how they still color our world as grown women.  Three of us are fortunate enough to still have our mothers in our lives.  A common thread is woven when we talk about their independence and the frustration and fear of losing it, beginning with the threat of not being able to drive.  Knowing your grown children are willing chauffeurs is no consolation.  Anxiety, anger, depression travel hand in hand with failing health and increasing frailty.  Accepting limitation both physical and often financial as costs continue to skyrocket is a challenge.  Trying to be supportive, we often say the wrong thing.  

Not wanting to violate her privacy or HIPPA laws here, I can share that my mother has had a tough year medically.  Two surgeries and a complicated eye problem that could have cost her eyesight caused a great deal of suffering.  The medication schedule alone would have daunted the most competent person.  With a numb hand and nearly blind, Mom remained independent at home.  Yes, it slowed her down but she refused to let it stop her.  We were grateful that she accepted help from us, her three daughters.  Meanwhile, Mom is still giving assistance to another woman older than herself.  

I have just returned from a five day visit.  It was wonderful to see her doing so well.  Her drivers license was renewed when she passed the vision test so we had something to celebrate.  Her brother was also coming to visit while I was there, so it was the double the pleasure. 

 My mother is a fantastic seamstress and talented designer.  Given the opportunity, she would have rivaled Diane Von Furstenburg.  She custom made most of my wardrobe while growing up and loved fashion forward design.  She would craft beautiful evening gowns for other women who had figure challenges and her talent became a career when she became a single mother with three girls to raise. Mom insisted that I learn to sew, for which I am grateful.  I don't enjoy it the way she does, but I have put the skill to good use through the years, especially in my interior design career.  Mom had made all new outdoor chair cushions with coordinating prints and patterns for table linens.  Yes, we use fabric napkins even outdoors for barbecues.  Not out of pretension, but because they are pretty!  She waited for me to arrive so we could decorate the patio with all of her handiwork.  How well I understood her delight at the result.  I feel the same way when creating a beautiful setting.  Mom always taught us that there is an attractive way to live even on a budget.

My uncle and I tackled a project that required a trip to Home Depot.  I love that place and I love hardware stores.  Growing up in a home with no man around around, we girls learned to be do it yourselfers par excellence.  Mom and I would tackle just about anything except electricity.  That puts the fear of God in us, justifiably.  No one dies from a can of paint, 110 volts is quite another thing.  So, while on this visit we added to and re-leveled her side walkway of concrete pavers and brick.  Frank did the heavy lifting, I did the leveling and Mom swept the sand to fill and finish.  We all felt a great sense of accomplishment.  Now the yard is in great shape for another season of entertaining.  

Entertaining she does!  Pool parties, barbecues, impromptu dinners al fresco for family and friends, mom dazzles and delights with her seemingly effortless hospitality.  We had fun cooking together again as usual and the family enjoyed the results, my uncle especially.  I have never seen someone eat as much lasagna in one sitting.  Growing up I learned that preparing food is a way of showing love.  Eating with gusto is a way of saying "I love you too".  Setting a beautiful table, casual every day or formal, was routine in our home and I enjoy carrying on the tradition in mine.

So many gifts and lessons came from my mother.  She read to me every day as a tot and fostered a love for literature and art to this day.  Mom made us responsible and taught us the right way to care for a home, do laundry and whip, not mash potatoes.  By age nine I knew how to use all of the appliances, iron properly and use a sewing machine.  She encouraged my love of music and endured listening to me play On Top of Old Smokey a thousand times on the chord organ.  Supporting all of my school activities, extracurricular theater productions ( often helping with costumes) making sure we balanced indoor and outdoor activities, she was a full time mom as her first priority.  She taught me to think critically, and reason with others in an articulate way to get my point across. She insisted that I take business classes as well as academic to prepare me in a practical sense for whatever career I chose.  She challenged me to try harder when I wanted to quit and would often repeat "if you say you can't, you never will".

My mother taught me the value of faith and spiritual connection.  I learned not only an accountability to a Greater Presence, but to take comfort in it.  It is still a driving force in my life as I strive to reflect that wisdom and grace with gratitude and reverence. 

From her I have learned to rise to any occasion or challenge that life brings my way, that mistakes are inevitable and forgiven.  I've learned resilience and responsibility.  Most of all, I have learned that motherhood is a lifelong relationship and to cherish it with her and with my daughters in turn.  I understand so much more as my own children have grown, seeing my mother and myself in their eyes.

This portrait is of five generations of innovative, resilient and powerful women with me as the youngest.  What a blessing to have grown under their influence!

Nothing says loving like......

Nothing says loving like something from the oven.  Some people quote Plato, today I quote the Pillsbury Dough Boy.   Not only is he wise, but he never worries about his waistline.  In preparation for a quick trip to visit my mother, I knew I couldn't leave home without cooking a few things for Roger and the canine kids.   Having a really busy week, I decided to use some of the basics I always keep stocked.    This part is always fun. My challenge is to whip up something tasty that will keep for a few days. So, I stand in front of the refrigerator, with the door open, gazing.  That is exactly what my mother told me not to do, and I told my kids not to do.  "Don't let the cold air out" reverberates in my brain with " look both ways" and "don't talk to strangers".  Those rules no longer apply when you have achieved menopause status.  Standing in front of that open cold blast of air is therapy not wasteful.  

 Back to meal prep.  I take out a bag of frozen chopped broccoli, a fresh lemon and some grated sharp Romano.  Because the broccoli was quick blanched in the freezing process, I just open and let it drain as it thaws in a colander.  I put on a pot of water to boil some pasta.  Like any good Italian girl, I always have a selection of different pastas on hand, just in case company comes.  God forbid you can't feed eight people who happen to drop by!   I pull out a box of rotini.  Those little spirals will catch the cheese and the dressing for the most flavor.  While the pasta is cooking, I zest and juice the lemon.  I make a dressing of the lemon juice, a little sugar, cracked black pepper, a little minced garlic and olive oil.  When the pasta is done, I rinse it to cool it off, toss it with the broccoli, lemon zest, the dressing and about half a cup of the grated cheese.   Tastes great and I feel virtuous because broccoli is so good for you.

On to the second dish of quick fixings.   I start opening cans.  Black olives, red kidney beans, garbanzo beans.  Drain and and toss together with chopped celery, red onion, a crisp red pepper and fresh chopped parsley.  Since I don't have any feta cheese and the olives are ripe,  not Kalamata like I usually use, I chop some pepperoncini for an added pop of flavor.  I make dressing with white balsamic vinegar, olive oil, coarse salt and dill.  I know Roger will eat this right out of the container.  It is a good thing that I will be four hundred miles away should he eat all of the beans at one time.

Of course, I can't leave home without cooking for the dogs.  We add lean ground turkey and beef to their kibble.  On occasion, we add baked salmon.  When the frying pan comes out of the cabinet, Mattie knows it is just for her.  She will sit in the kitchen until the meat cools knowing what treats are in store.  Bentley, the golden retriever kleptomaniac assumes everything in the kitchen is a treat for him, dish towels, egg slicers, carving knives.  We now have a new routine. He steals something and runs.  Mattie, the cocker spaniel and too short to raid the counter top, heads straight to the kitchen, sits by the treats cabinet and waits patiently. Bentley watches for me and hopes I will be in hot pursuit.  Rather than wrestle a carving knife out of his mouth or encourage him to run with sharp objects, I call out "want a treat? " and he trots off to the kitchen to barter his treasure.  Now he really gets conflicted.  He LOVES treats but he loves to hoard his stolen goods too. Mattie is sitting there gloating " I am the good child".  All I have to do is give her a treat first and he will drop the knife, remote control, or shoe in exchange for food.  

Sometimes I wonder who has trained whom in our house.

We all have different ways of showing love.  We also have different ways of feeling loved.  That is why the book THE FIVE LOVE LANGUAGES by Gary Chapman soared to the top of the New York Times Bestseller list when it came out years ago.  Originally written as a guide to happy marriage, the principles apply to all relationships.  It is also an important part of self discovery.  Recognizing what makes someone else feel loved allows you to create an emotionally healthy family and long lasting friendships.  It can even translate to the workplace by fostering understanding and empowerment among colleagues.   

In a nutshell, the five languages are words of affirmation, quality time, receiving gifts,  acts of service, and physical touch.  Recognizing what makes you feel loved and communicating that to your partner, or others important in your life prevents a lot of disappointment, resentment and hurt.  For some children to feel loved, taking time to play with them rather than buying them a toy is more valuable.  A spouse may feel more loved when their partner initiates sex or just offers a good back rub.  The point is that often you need to give what someone else wants to receive not what YOU want to receive to feel loved.  When you master that perception, joy flows for everyone.

My natural inclination is to show love by acts of service in the kitchen.  I create dishes with great delight knowing how much someone will enjoy it.  Recently I made lamb osso bucco with creamy polenta because I knew a friend, Bruce would love it.  Last year, he and Ann gave me the most beautiful chopping knife for my birthday.  It is one of my all time favorite gifts!  I use it every day and I know he gets a kick out of seeing me enjoy it when they come for dinner.  Bruce makes the best minestrone in the world.  I would never attempt to compete and removed this dish from my repertoire knowing I can count on him.  When he is simmering a pot, he always includes us. Now that is love!

My visit to my mother is timed to coincide with a visit from my uncle.  Somehow our family has spread out all over the country.  My mother's first question is always "what do you want to eat when you come?"   Frank is THE only Italian man I know who doesn't cook EVER.  Maybe forty years in the restaurant business has caused the kitchen to feel too much like work.   Like the rest of the family, Frank loves ( or lives ) to eat.  Right away he put in a request for lasagna and sausage, peppers and roasted potatoes.  My mother knows her sausage stuffing for turkey is one of my favorites. So when I arrive a few days in advance of my uncle, I am greeted in the walkway with  the fragrance of simmering marinara.  I let myself in to find Mom in the kitchen stirring the gravy and the turkey and stuffing are already in the oven.

I feel SO loved!