“I’ve learned that making a “living" is not the same thing as making a “life.” – Maya Angelou
A good friend passed this quote on to me this morning; a different quote awaits me from him each morning as I open my Email. Sometimes these quotes whisper a message, sometimes they hold little meaning for me at all, and some speak loudly to my heart, as this one did.
What heaven it must be if your daily work brings pleasure and fulfillment and enhances your life. Many people, if not most of us, work every day at jobs that bring in the money for shelter, food, clothing and entertainment, but are totally separate from their meaningful lives. What a shame that we spend such a large portion of our days on this work.
My life is composed of so many different interests and loves – my family, friends, tending my home and my gardens, cooking, reading, writing, flower arranging, nature, spiritual pursuits. And, yet, through the years I have spent hours and hours working at mundane jobs such as typing, bookkeeping, and now, helping to run our electrical contracting business. I am extremely competent in office administration, but helplessly lost in the technical aspect of our business. I am an intelligent person, but have absolutely no aptitude for, or interest in science and technology, which does not bode well for a woman in a business such as ours. Never in my wildest thoughts would I have entertained the desire for a job in a technical field – but, this is the path my life has taken, and I do my work with great effort and efficiency in order to make a living.
If I were young again, I would choose a different path. As a teen, I prepared for secretarial work after graduation, anticipating marriage and full-time motherhood. Alas, the world changed, and full-time motherhood became a dream with a very high price. How different life would have been if I had gone on to college. I might have carved a career in writing, or historic preservation, or landscape design – all passions that would enhance my life.
Instead, as most of us do, I spend my days making a living, while carving out as much time as possible for my “meaningful” life.
Ah, how much happier we could be if the energy and dreams of youth could be augmented with the wisdom of age --
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
The Haven of Flowers
I look back and realize my last post was in mid-March. Where has the time gone. The past few weeks are a blur of activity and stress. There have been worries and numerous mini-crises in our business. My husband injured his knee and had surgery last week, from which he is recovering slowly. There have been family issues to deal with, as well as the happier family celebrations of St. Patrick's Day and Easter, which involved much planning and cooking. This past weekend we held a baby shower for my daughter-in-law -- my new baby grandson is due at the end of May -- another lovely celebration which required many hours of planning, shopping, flower arranging, gift wrapping, etc. As always, my daily routine of running our business and tending my precious granddaughter is labor-intensive.
And, always lingering on the fringes of my consciousness was the necessity of raking the old leaf mulch off my flower gardens. Usually I have accomplished this chore well before April 1, but this year March's weather was not propitious for garden work. Each weekend I have compared the weather forecast and my hectic schedule and put off the gardening for another time.
Finally yesterday afternoon the sun was shining, the temperatures were in the 50's, the baby shower was over, Alivia had gone home with her Daddy, and the gorgeous purple and white crocuses standing straight as soldiers through the leaf mulch called to me. After dinner, I spent a couple of hours painstakingly raking out flower beds. Then, after another long and stressful day, this afternoon I worked for another two hours to complete the project.
What a huge sense of relief I feel tonight. There is still much work to be done; the lawn needs to be raked, and all of the fallen branches and twigs need to be gathered. The porch and deck need to be swept, and all the garden furniture must come out. The pond needs tending. But, that will be accomplished in due time. Most importantly, the baby plants are now uncovered and basking in the spring sunshine.
My hope is that there will be a time in my life when I am retired and can leisurely complete these gardening chores. Instead of marathon raking and weeding sessions, I will be able to head out in the morning with a cup of coffee and slowly and methodically work in the garden, savoring the pleasure of working this beloved earth.
But, for tonight, I am grateful that this chore is finished, and that in the process I enjoyed the fresh spring air and sunshine, the sweet spring songs of the birds, the laughter of the neighbor children playing together, and the rebirth of my precious flowers and trees. Each little green shoot is a promise of life and beauty to come, and my soul is soothed by the experience.
And, always lingering on the fringes of my consciousness was the necessity of raking the old leaf mulch off my flower gardens. Usually I have accomplished this chore well before April 1, but this year March's weather was not propitious for garden work. Each weekend I have compared the weather forecast and my hectic schedule and put off the gardening for another time.
Finally yesterday afternoon the sun was shining, the temperatures were in the 50's, the baby shower was over, Alivia had gone home with her Daddy, and the gorgeous purple and white crocuses standing straight as soldiers through the leaf mulch called to me. After dinner, I spent a couple of hours painstakingly raking out flower beds. Then, after another long and stressful day, this afternoon I worked for another two hours to complete the project.
What a huge sense of relief I feel tonight. There is still much work to be done; the lawn needs to be raked, and all of the fallen branches and twigs need to be gathered. The porch and deck need to be swept, and all the garden furniture must come out. The pond needs tending. But, that will be accomplished in due time. Most importantly, the baby plants are now uncovered and basking in the spring sunshine.
My hope is that there will be a time in my life when I am retired and can leisurely complete these gardening chores. Instead of marathon raking and weeding sessions, I will be able to head out in the morning with a cup of coffee and slowly and methodically work in the garden, savoring the pleasure of working this beloved earth.
But, for tonight, I am grateful that this chore is finished, and that in the process I enjoyed the fresh spring air and sunshine, the sweet spring songs of the birds, the laughter of the neighbor children playing together, and the rebirth of my precious flowers and trees. Each little green shoot is a promise of life and beauty to come, and my soul is soothed by the experience.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
How Sad --
My first reaction when I heard the news about Eliot Spitzer this week was one of disbelief. This man who inspired so many New Yorkers to believe in the possibility of a "new start" couldn't possibly have ruined his political life, could he?? However, in the hours to come it was apparent that he had.
How sad! How sad for the citizens of our country who so badly need real political heroes. How sad for Eliot who has, for reasons we cannot understand, sabotaged his own promising career and broken his trust with his famly. How sad for his wife who was forced to endure her own private grief in such a public way. But most of all, how sad for his daughters, who will now forever carry in their hearts the message that being a beautiful, intelligent, accomplished and supportive wife is not always enough!!
How sad! How sad for the citizens of our country who so badly need real political heroes. How sad for Eliot who has, for reasons we cannot understand, sabotaged his own promising career and broken his trust with his famly. How sad for his wife who was forced to endure her own private grief in such a public way. But most of all, how sad for his daughters, who will now forever carry in their hearts the message that being a beautiful, intelligent, accomplished and supportive wife is not always enough!!
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Weekend at Home
The past few weeks have been busy and stressful, with an abundance of end-of-year office work and serious financial problems. The weight of my responsibilities has become a bit heavy to bear with my usual aplomb. This weekend, however, I was blessed with the gift of free time -- and I enjoyed each minute.
Much of my time was spent in the kitchen. Saturday morning found me chopping and sauteeing fresh vegetables and beef to simmer all day into a hearty and delicious soup. In the afternoon I savored the process of making bread -- the mixing and kneading and careful tending that resulted in two loaves of tasty French herbed bread. We shared a quiet supper of wine, soup and bread that warmed my heart.
This morning I filled the kitchen with the scent of vanilla as I baked a cake. When my children were home, I kept the cupboards stocked with baked goods -- cookies, brownies, cakes -- but our middle-aged waistlines do not need frequent sweets, so the aroma of sweet baking is a special treat now.
I have always loved the soothing qualities of cooking -- the mixing, chopping, stirring that create a delicious whole from a group of disparate ingredients. I look out the window at my bird feeders as I work, or chat on the phone, or just absorb the deep quiet of my warm kitchen. The tensions of my world fall away, and there is nothing more pressing than the moment at hand.
My unscheduled weekend was a welcome respite. I dusted and scrubbed the house, spent some time with my daughters-in-law and my granddaughter, and saw an ultrasound picture of my baby grandson. I made some long-overdue phone calls to friends, enjoyed a glass of wine as I lingered over a new gardening magazine, and topped off Sunday evening with a piece of my delectable cake.
My spirit is quiet tonight -- I am thankful for these two days, and will try to carry this feeling of serenity into the coming week.
Much of my time was spent in the kitchen. Saturday morning found me chopping and sauteeing fresh vegetables and beef to simmer all day into a hearty and delicious soup. In the afternoon I savored the process of making bread -- the mixing and kneading and careful tending that resulted in two loaves of tasty French herbed bread. We shared a quiet supper of wine, soup and bread that warmed my heart.
This morning I filled the kitchen with the scent of vanilla as I baked a cake. When my children were home, I kept the cupboards stocked with baked goods -- cookies, brownies, cakes -- but our middle-aged waistlines do not need frequent sweets, so the aroma of sweet baking is a special treat now.
I have always loved the soothing qualities of cooking -- the mixing, chopping, stirring that create a delicious whole from a group of disparate ingredients. I look out the window at my bird feeders as I work, or chat on the phone, or just absorb the deep quiet of my warm kitchen. The tensions of my world fall away, and there is nothing more pressing than the moment at hand.
My unscheduled weekend was a welcome respite. I dusted and scrubbed the house, spent some time with my daughters-in-law and my granddaughter, and saw an ultrasound picture of my baby grandson. I made some long-overdue phone calls to friends, enjoyed a glass of wine as I lingered over a new gardening magazine, and topped off Sunday evening with a piece of my delectable cake.
My spirit is quiet tonight -- I am thankful for these two days, and will try to carry this feeling of serenity into the coming week.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
February's Last Hurrah
A frigid wind sifts the snow from the pine trees and steals into the cracks and crevices of this old house. Yesterday's snow blankets the garden and the fences, and creates its own light in the cloudy darkness of the winter evening. Last night, as the snow was falling, I took a short walk -- the snow was heavy with moisture, coating each tree and bush to create a wintry wonderland. The silence of falling snow soothes my soul, and I love nothing better than a solitary walk in the snowy darkness.
In the Northeast February is usually a month of deep cold and frequent snow. Everyone is weary of winter and depressed as new snow falls. However, if you observe closely, there are subtle changes during this month that herald the coming of spring. By mid-February, there is a shift in the angle of the sunlight that speaks of spring and the hours of daylight become noticeably longer. When I rise in the morning now, a gentle dawn has already begun and some mornings I am greeted by the song of an optimistic bird or two.
As I gaze out over the snow-covered world tonight, I remember that by mid-March I am often out in the garden gently removing the winter covering of leaves that protects my perennials and marveling at the tiny green shoots which sprout beneath the mulch. But, for tonight, I will savor this lovely silence of deep cold and snow -- a peaceful gift in these final days of February --
In the Northeast February is usually a month of deep cold and frequent snow. Everyone is weary of winter and depressed as new snow falls. However, if you observe closely, there are subtle changes during this month that herald the coming of spring. By mid-February, there is a shift in the angle of the sunlight that speaks of spring and the hours of daylight become noticeably longer. When I rise in the morning now, a gentle dawn has already begun and some mornings I am greeted by the song of an optimistic bird or two.
As I gaze out over the snow-covered world tonight, I remember that by mid-March I am often out in the garden gently removing the winter covering of leaves that protects my perennials and marveling at the tiny green shoots which sprout beneath the mulch. But, for tonight, I will savor this lovely silence of deep cold and snow -- a peaceful gift in these final days of February --
Monday, February 11, 2008
Home Sweet Home
According to the media, mid-lifers are downsizing in large numbers, trading in the homes where they raised their families for smaller condos or townhouses that require less maintenance. At times, it is a tempting choice, especially when I take a realistic look at our kitchen and bathrooms, which need major updating. Unfortunately, though, in order to get top dollar for the house, we would have to do these projects before we put the house on the market. I know myself well, though, and I would immediately fall in love with my new rooms and never be able to leave.
In fact, I can't really imagine choosing to leave this old house. Of course, as time goes on, the factors of age and finances may require me to move to a smaller home or apartment, but for now, I intend to stay here, in the house that has sheltered my family for over thirty years.
My house is an old Victorian with a wrap-around porch, touches of gingerbread, and a steep, fairy-tale style roof. The house had actually been in my husband's family for fifty years before we bought it, and was in need of much updating. It seems we spent years scraping off old wallpaper, tearing out plaster and lathe walls, renovating the kitchen and baths, and painting. Of course, money was always scarce, so these projects were done on a shoestring, with results that matched our checkbook balance to a much greater degree than our dreams.
As I walk through today, though, I see not the scratched floors and mouldings, but the lovely little library alcove we designed and lovingly built. I walk through the kitchen which so badly needs new cabinets and counter, but I focus my attention on the cozy back porch with its old wicker furnishings and mullioned windows, where I sip my coffee each summer morning as the birds sing their hearts out. My garden may not be on the garden club tour, but I have coaxed each tree, bush and flower into bloom, and laid each stone in the pond and the walk with my own hands.
I look at the kitchen table and remember the faces of friends and family who have gathered there through the years; I hear the long-ago voices and laughter of my children and savor the memories of family parties and holiday celebrations. I remember the sad times, when this old house sheltered me as I grieved for lost loved ones or lost dreams. It has been both a peaceful haven when I need solitude, and a warm and welcoming gathering place for all of those I have cherished in this life.
The large rooms and attic hold all my treasures -- my mother's dressing table, my grandmother's hope chest, my grandfather's desk, my china and linens and pictures. How could I ever choose what to take to a smaller house -- what would I leave behind?
I want to stay. If I left, even though I would carry the memories in my heart, I would be lost. This house is my refuge -- when I am stressed I walk through the garden, listening to the birdsong, sniffing and stroking my flowers and herbs. Each night I close the curtains and feel thankful for this lovely house and all the memories it holds. I can't leave!
In fact, I can't really imagine choosing to leave this old house. Of course, as time goes on, the factors of age and finances may require me to move to a smaller home or apartment, but for now, I intend to stay here, in the house that has sheltered my family for over thirty years.
My house is an old Victorian with a wrap-around porch, touches of gingerbread, and a steep, fairy-tale style roof. The house had actually been in my husband's family for fifty years before we bought it, and was in need of much updating. It seems we spent years scraping off old wallpaper, tearing out plaster and lathe walls, renovating the kitchen and baths, and painting. Of course, money was always scarce, so these projects were done on a shoestring, with results that matched our checkbook balance to a much greater degree than our dreams.
As I walk through today, though, I see not the scratched floors and mouldings, but the lovely little library alcove we designed and lovingly built. I walk through the kitchen which so badly needs new cabinets and counter, but I focus my attention on the cozy back porch with its old wicker furnishings and mullioned windows, where I sip my coffee each summer morning as the birds sing their hearts out. My garden may not be on the garden club tour, but I have coaxed each tree, bush and flower into bloom, and laid each stone in the pond and the walk with my own hands.
I look at the kitchen table and remember the faces of friends and family who have gathered there through the years; I hear the long-ago voices and laughter of my children and savor the memories of family parties and holiday celebrations. I remember the sad times, when this old house sheltered me as I grieved for lost loved ones or lost dreams. It has been both a peaceful haven when I need solitude, and a warm and welcoming gathering place for all of those I have cherished in this life.
The large rooms and attic hold all my treasures -- my mother's dressing table, my grandmother's hope chest, my grandfather's desk, my china and linens and pictures. How could I ever choose what to take to a smaller house -- what would I leave behind?
I want to stay. If I left, even though I would carry the memories in my heart, I would be lost. This house is my refuge -- when I am stressed I walk through the garden, listening to the birdsong, sniffing and stroking my flowers and herbs. Each night I close the curtains and feel thankful for this lovely house and all the memories it holds. I can't leave!
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Please Vote for a Democrat!!!
It has been two weeks since my last post, and tonight I feel I have nothing to say, which is unusual for me. Seldom do two weeks pass without my being passionately moved by some thought that must find its way to the written page.
Actually, as I think over the past two weeks, I believe the problem is not one of lack of passion, but more likely an emotional overload, which has left me quiet and empty -- not devoid of feeling, but overwhelmed. My days have been filled with the mechanics of life, and my mind has been filled with financial worries and personal stresses. Our business, which burst with promise two years ago has stumbled limply along in this fragile economy. My frequently depressed husband is once more on a downward course. I have worked hard for so many years, and resent the struggles I must now endure. I look with envy at friends who are retiring with comfortable incomes -- knowing in my heart that my own choices have contributed to my financial insecurity -- but still feeling anger that my years of struggle have reaped no benefit.
I watch the political debates with a sense of extreme urgency -- we must elect a President who champions the middle and lower classes. I listen to Mitt Romney and I want to spit. He talks about our free market economy adjusting itself -- and then I read the newspaper articles about the oil companies' record profits in these past few months while hard-working Americans are paying exorbitant prices to fill their gas tanks and heat their homes. We have become the second "Gilded Age". I believe deeply that the free market cannot adjust enough to provide adequate incomes for average Americans when the wealthiest among us greedily amass profits at the expense of the rest of us.
I am tired -- and I know there are millions of Americans tonight who are just as weary as I am. We work and struggle and juggle our families and jobs and bills and suddenly a day comes when we are drained -- today is that day for me.
Actually, as I think over the past two weeks, I believe the problem is not one of lack of passion, but more likely an emotional overload, which has left me quiet and empty -- not devoid of feeling, but overwhelmed. My days have been filled with the mechanics of life, and my mind has been filled with financial worries and personal stresses. Our business, which burst with promise two years ago has stumbled limply along in this fragile economy. My frequently depressed husband is once more on a downward course. I have worked hard for so many years, and resent the struggles I must now endure. I look with envy at friends who are retiring with comfortable incomes -- knowing in my heart that my own choices have contributed to my financial insecurity -- but still feeling anger that my years of struggle have reaped no benefit.
I watch the political debates with a sense of extreme urgency -- we must elect a President who champions the middle and lower classes. I listen to Mitt Romney and I want to spit. He talks about our free market economy adjusting itself -- and then I read the newspaper articles about the oil companies' record profits in these past few months while hard-working Americans are paying exorbitant prices to fill their gas tanks and heat their homes. We have become the second "Gilded Age". I believe deeply that the free market cannot adjust enough to provide adequate incomes for average Americans when the wealthiest among us greedily amass profits at the expense of the rest of us.
I am tired -- and I know there are millions of Americans tonight who are just as weary as I am. We work and struggle and juggle our families and jobs and bills and suddenly a day comes when we are drained -- today is that day for me.
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