As I pulled away on Friday morning, I felt this immense relief – as if the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders, a weight I hadn’t entirely realized I’d been carrying.

With four days and the open road in front of me, I felt free, full of hope and possibility.  With each mile more down the road, I felt the distance growing between this old life that was no longer working and this new life I still needed to create.  It was time for me to mold and shape that new life – to see the world as a blank canvas and me the artist in control of the palette.

I just didn’t know where to begin.  Or how.  Truth be told, maybe I was still struggling with why.  The only thing I knew for sure was that it needed to start with stillness.  I needed to quiet my heart and my mind so that I could see the possibilities and the opportunities when they presented themselves.

It seems crazy to me that the weekend ended with, well, an ending, when all along I had seen it as a beginning.

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I went for the most incredible walk the other day. I took a wrong turn and suddenly there I was, at this place that was so familiar and comforting. Without really thinking about it, I turned in, parked my car, and found myself wandering these trails I had been down so many times before.

At first, it was nostalgia that carried me into the woods, the memory of Andrew toddling up ahead, squatting down on little legs to collect leaves and touch the mushrooms. It filled my heart with such joy to remember that time, when life took on a fullness and a richness I never could have imagined before he came into my life.

I came to a place where the path split, and thinking of Robert Frost (the dork that I am), I chose the path less travelled. Then it was the sheer joy of discovery that urged me forward – each turn a new possibility. The woods around me were teaming with life, a steady rhythm and tranquility that I found very reassuring.

Everywhere I looked I saw life – life, and death, and rebirth. This great endless cycle of life. I saw trees that grew crooked, bent to reach for the sun, trees that grew sideways, even one that grew in a circle. It was a great reminder to me of how resilient life is – how it will always fight to find a way. And somehow I knew that I would be all right, whatever the future holds.

I walked until I found a spot nestled among the trees that seemed as if it had been made just for me. The water was so calm, a perfect mirror of the stillness around me. The canopy of trees was my shelter and protection, and as the wind blew through them, it filled my heart with peace. I wish I could have stayed lost in that perfect moment.

But as I pointed out, life finds a way of moving on. So much has happened in the hours that have passed since then. I find myself sitting here at Starbuck’s willing time to turn back to find that peace and stillness once again and hold it in my heart, to care for it tenderly and nurture it till it grows into something strong and beautiful that remains with me.

I was reading this article the other day about writers and their “quirks” – how people who write often have a very specific time, place and even mood they need to be in for the words to flow well.

It was reassuring to know that I’m not simply crazy…

For me, it’s quiet. Not just physical quiet, although that too. But quiet in my head and in my heart.

I just don’t feel that way lately.

It just feels like the stress is coming in waves, steady and unrelenting. Each wave sways me, threatens to knock me off my feet. No sooner do I catch my breath and steady myself, than another wave comes along. And with it a great, thundering noise.

I’m so focused on just not falling on my rear, that I have no time to find that peace and quiet that I so badly need. Not that I know where to begin looking if I had the time…

I just can’t escape the noise…

The nearness of you unseats me,
unravels me
and exposes me.

I fear what you think of me.
It both repels me
and attracts me.

Like resting on the edge of a blade...

The Cure

I’ve been kind of obsessed with this song called “The Cure” by Jordan Sparks lately. It’s this beautiful song about a man who has come out of a terrible relationship, hurt and jaded. The woman, in turn, offers to be his “cure.”

One of my favorite lines is, “So consider this a moment, as defining you are. I can fix what’s broken. And here’s how I’ll start. Just come with your heart. And leave the rest to me. And I promise I will be, I’ll be your cure.”

When I first listened to it, I thought that it was SO incredibly romantic, since my heart bleeds romance (despite what some people think). To think that all the pain and hurt caused by someone can be so easily undone by someone else… that they could completely restore your faith in love, seemed liked such an extraordinary thing.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe this is part of the problem with relationships in general. We have ALL been hurt – lied to, mistreated, used… and yet somehow we have all been led to believe that it’s just that one person, and that somewhere out there lays the person who will undo all that hurt and pain and be our perfect fairytale romantic, movie ending where everyone rides off into the sunset and lives happily ever after.

What a load of crap!

The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that maybe this is where so many of my problems began. Somewhere along the way I allowed myself to be defined by the relationship I was in, and by that person’s opinion of me. When the relationship ended, even when it wasn’t my fault, especially when it wasn’t my fault, I somehow internalized it and blamed it on myself. As if somehow I was inadequate – wasn’t pretty enough, funny enough, smart enough, or heaven forbid skinny enough…

Somehow, I talked myself into believing that the next relationship would be different. I came to believe that if the next man was different, valued me more, or saw me for who I was, or just honored the commitment that he made, that it would somehow undo all the other hurt and pain. That he would be my cure…

And now I don’t know. Have I come to understand that I need to be happy for my own sake, or am I just jaded?

After listening to this song enough times, it suddenly struck me at what an insane notion this is! Why should my happiness be forever tied up in someone else’s? Why should I allow myself worth to be defined by this person? And why the hell should I expect them to be “The cure?”

Isn’t enough for me to be happy because I’m me? To feel my own self worth and not have it hinged on someone else’s opinion of me?

I got the strangest Mother’s Day card in the mail the other day from my oldest brother. I haven’t seen or heard from him in nearly thirteen years. It’s the strangest thing…

Over the years I’ve often felt guilty about not keeping in touch – wondering if I played a part in the hurt and isolation that has led to his continued drug use.

I really have no strong memories of him from my childhood, and as adults our lives have taken such different paths. Perhaps I should have tried harder to stay connected with him in spite of his problems. Maybe even more so because of them…

I wonder why he’s suddenly reaching out now, after all these years.

As I lay in bed trying to fall asleep last night, I found myself thinking about what my answer would have been had the tables been reversed and someone had asked me my memorable food moment.

While there are many, some probably better forgotten, one of the strongest is from my trip to Newport. That trip holds a special place in my heart for a lot of reasons – it’s one of the few trips I’ve taken in my life by myself, existing solely on my own agenda. I woke up when I wanted to wake up, ate what I wanted to eat when I wanted to eat it, and went wherever I wanted, all without having to consult somebody else or alter my desires to accommodate someone or something.

The night I arrived, I found a spot near the harbor to park and just wandered the streets with a cup of coffee, stopping to marvel at the old buildings and the view of the harbor. The weather was sublime, and the smell of the salt air reminded me so much of home. And while I wanted to linger, I was also eager to see it all.

After walking around town for a few hours, I found a little bakery/deli where I grabbed a loaf of baguette and a small wedge of Comté. From a wine shop, I grabbed a bottle of Newport Vineyards’ Table White, and headed back to my hotel which was located on the beach.

I took my little ‘picnic,” my camera, a journal and a pencil out to the beach with me to enjoy the view looking up at all the mansions on the hill. The beach has always been a place of utter calm for me, and this night was no exception. I sat there till long after the sun went down, totally at peace.

While the food was nothing particularly all that extravagant or special, that moment was. It had been SO long since I’d been alone with my thoughts. I had arrived in Newport tired and stressed, with so much weighing on my mind and in my heart. In that few hours, over a glass of wine and a sunset, I was a calm I hadn’t been in a very long time.

I haven’t tried that wine since – it’s almost like I’m afraid that if I tasted it again, it wouldn’t live up to my memory of it, and the disappointment I would then feel would somehow taint my memory of that experience. Maybe it’s better this way…

It amazes me that so many years later, the thought of that night can still evoke so much joy for me.