Thepettyandprofound's Blog
Just another WordPress.com siteThe Perennial Friendship
Navigating new friendships in your 40s is a lot like slashing your way through overgrown tomato vine leaves to find the ripe cherry tomatoes. I’ve been gardening for decades, and yet I never knew until this year that there are little branches that protrude here and there called “suckers” that suck the sunlight and oxygen from the ones that are actually producing tomatoes. Once cut away, it’s not only easier to find the ripe tomatoes, but it also fosters them to grow more profusely.
I’ve always been an open, straightforward person, so friendships came easily to me over the years. (Outside of high school, when female hormones run rampant and mean girls ruled the day.) That’s why I found myself completely perplexed when decades later, in middle age, I found myself again, full circle, surrounded by selfish women who gossiped, lied, and flaked like we were back in ninth grade again. In a strange way, it stirred emotions of that young girl inside of me again – vulnerability, angst, insecurity and hurt. But finally, like flicking on a light switch in the pitch dark, the adult version of me stepped in and laughed out loud at it all. The famous Talking Heads song popped into my head inquiring: How did I get here?
When you are in the middle of raising your children (or pets) and tending to your marriage or life partner, your long-time friendships are like nostalgic anchors that you periodically visit when your schedule allows, and your newer friendships are like the budding sprouts that may or may not grow, while only some turn out to be truly perennial.
A newer friend I’ve cherished as of late quoted Maya Angelou to me today: When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time. I wish I would have realized that during all of those years where I repeatedly gave ex-boyfriends the benefit of the doubt or trusted a new friend who let me down time and time again. I also would have stopped being apologetic for showing others who I am without a shred of pretentiousness.
Angelou also wisely said: never make someone a priority when all you are to them is an option. When it comes to friendships, it’s best to have four quarters than a hundred pennies.
It’s true when people say you give less f*cks the older you get; I certainly have alas arrived at the era that I do. I finally don’t care if someone looks down upon me, speaks negatively about me or tries to take away the precious energy that I create from within and hold so dear (AKA energy vampires). I’ve entered a chapter where I’ve embraced those who have made me a top priority and damn, it feels good to be that ripe cherry tomato finally discovered in a the tangled mess of overgrown chatter and meaningless noise. Here’s to happy harvests and nurturing souls – it’s well worth the hard work and dedication to cultivate them.
Let Go, Let God
I remember laughing to myself years ago when an anxiety-ridden cast member from the infamous Jersey Shore TV show tattooed “Let Go, Let God” on his chest. However, I don’t think I was familiar with the phrase at the time, and I was grateful that his commitment exposed me to it. God does work in mysterious ways.
Letting go has been a constant process since giving birth to my son. The night we planned to move him from the bassinet in our bedroom to his nursery, I shed a couple unexpected tears over our breakfast-for-dinner at the neighborhood diner. I was struck just then by a strange revelation. Ever since he was conceived, he was moving slowly away from me. Who would have thought of birth as an assertion of independence? Ah, but every moment since then, he has grown in independence, and I was blindsided by another onslaught of unexpected tears the night I weaned him from his bottle.
I read article after article on formula and bottle weaning the months leading up to the day. My What to Expect When Expecting Book had so many post-it flags protruding from it, it looked like a college text book the day before a dreaded final exam. When you’re a new mother, it’s hard not to fall back on the phrase, “They say…” They said he may resist letting go of his bottle. They said it could take a month. They said compensate with longer cuddles and lots of patience. They said you may want to do it cold turkey. They said wean him no later than 15 months.
They didn’t say that weaning your baby-turned-toddler is a major milestone for Mom just as much for baby. That your heart can break in that moment. That it’s just the beginning of many more turning points that will take him further and further away from you physically, but never further from your heart, spirit and mind.
My husband looked perplexed and concerned when I came down that night with drenched cheeks. I wasn’t even sure where the sorrow came from, but I was sure that it was a feeling of grief. After talking with a good friend (also a mom who raised four children) she confirmed I was feeling grief. Raising a child will be a series of many periods of letting go, but that’s what makes it so poignant and life-changing.
22 years ago, I sat on the campus lawn with a best friend when she scrawled this quote from Kahlil Gibran on a piece of notebook paper: “When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.” Looking at sorrow this way makes a lot of sense and is strangely comforting. And it doesn’t matter if you’re a poor college student living on Ramen noodles or a new parent navigating the responsibility of a fledgling human being.
Now off the bottles completely, it’s business as usual. By properly experiencing the grief I was able to let it go. He has gone through so many changes in just a year, it’s hard to believe he is still the same child, and in many ways he is not. I know there will be many more versions of him in the years to come. So I just brace myself in knowing to Let go, let God, and the rest should fall into place.
Homegrown
I’ve been a green thumb as long as I can remember. It could have something to do with my mom handing me a lawn mower when I was a kid, or watching her meticulously transform a small grass lawn into The Secret Garden. She was a lot like Andy from the 40 Year Old Virgin, hand-painting statues and pergolas in bright vibrant colors, then repainting them after the paint had just dried. Observing that kind of care and commitment made me think (and rightfully so), there might be something to this.
Years later when I bought my first home, I nurtured a beautiful garden of annuals and perennials, and grew herbs and veggies, including some of the freshest grape tomatoes and hottest jalapeños that had ever grazed my lips. I reveled in watching a family of elegant Asian Lillies multiply each year, and even grew a sunflower twice my height.
When I moved in with my now-husband, he was living in the city. I was mildly distraught about leaving my yard in exchange for potted plants. However, soon after, we moved into another city home, this time with a rooftop, and added raised garden beds. POOF! Just like that I could once again access that old joie de vivre. That renewed joy felt a lot like pulling on those tight jeans you never thought would button again after giving birth.
I sowed and waited. I monitored and watered. I covered and uncovered. I patted the soil the way you burp an infant. Months later, the harvest arrived in a generous array. I attentively pinched off each piece of spinach like a teenager squeezing a small pimple. But by the time I made my way to the thick Mesclun, I became impatient and started tearing them off too close to the root. Afterwards, I inspected the scene and felt a wave of remorse spill over me. While I thankfully didn’t kill it, I wondered, how could I let a moment of impatience overwhelm the time and energy I invested leading up to that moment? In a word: restlessness.
Every single one of us falls victim to it at some point or another. We become restless at our jobs, in our relationships, even with ourselves. People sabotage a relationship that took years to build, or annihilate their hair over an impulsive moment of random restlessness.
After reflecting on all of this I took a new approach. I ignored the reckless urge to chop down my lettuce like a soldier navigating the brush at war. I calmly tended to every single piece, even when faced with the Sophie’s Choice act of uprooting a few radishes in an effort to help the neighboring ones further thrive. I felt I had evolved even if in an incredibly small way.
If you’re reading this thinking that your favorite type of plant is a fake one, I encourage you to try your hand at a single mini cactus houseplant. Plants improve the quality of the air you breathe. They soften the landscape – whether inside or out. And the edible variety have much more to offer than just physical sustenance. The very act of caring for any type of plant can teach you a level of discipline and patience that will help both of you grow.
Center of the Universe
Weeks into the COVID-19 Coronavirus collective quarantine, there are days all of us have suffered from some serious cases of cabin fever. Being the forever-optimist, however, I have always kept myself from slipping into depressive states by looking at the big picture. While adhering to our state’s recent “Shelter in Place” mandate, I’ve been periodically pulling books from our built-in: partly for stimulation, partly to demonstrate to my 9-month old why reading is just as interesting as the umpteenth episode of Sesame Street on the television. Most recently, I flipped through our giant Handy Space Answer Book and discovered that roughly 68% of the universe is dark energy, and dark matter makes up about 27%; the rest – everything on Earth, everything ever observed with all of our instruments, all normal matter – adds up to less than 5% of the universe. This is a sobering fact for those who get caught up in the minutia of daily life, those who post 20 selfies a day, and also a good reminder why it’s important to re-center often. (And let’s face it, reading a book with actual pages and a binding in 2020 can make you just a little bit smug.)
This post isn’t to make us feel tiny or unimportant, but to keep things in perspective. While we may not be the center of the universe in the literal sense, we certainly are the center of the universe to our babies and children, best friends, elderly and even those who may depend on us for care. The health care workers and employees working at grocery stores who are putting themselves at risk throughout this pandemic are suddenly the center of the universe for many. Oh, and also at the center of the universe, apparently anyone in your neighborhood who has extra toilet paper. Understanding that we are at the center of the universe when we serve others helps us to be better human beings, and ultimately helps advance the human race.
As a new parent, I joke that I’ve gone from Leading Actor to Supporting Actor for the rest of my life. (In fact, some days this little demanding baby will make you feel like an $8/hour Extra on a Hollywood Blockbuster.) But from his point of view, we are the center of the universe, and that’s a good core-shaker when you are feeling like a minuscule piece of stardust floating aimlessly across the galaxy. Whatever or whoever makes you feel like the center of the universe is a great place to be. Just remember to revisit this bit of scientific knowledge about our real residence in the universe when things begin to feel like they’ve gone awry. It will hopefully lighten things up just long enough for you to refocus on all of the sometimes small but joyful things in life for which to be grateful.
Ask and You Shall Receive
I just finished binge-watching a compelling limited mini-series on Netflix called Unbelievable, which tells the true story of a horrifying crime and miscarriage of justice.
The main character was an 18-year old girl who was raped by an intruder in her bedroom in the middle of the night; when she reported the assault to the local police they questioned her credibility. They focused on her troubled past and life in the foster care system, as well as on the minor inconsistencies in her recollection of the event (even though this a common occurrence following a trauma).
There was one scene that was particularly pivotal. But first, some context…
Episode after episode, you watch this poor girl sit by meekly as people disrespect her, attack her and treat her like a low-life liar – all in spite of the fact that she was sexually assaulted. You want to reach into the television, grab this character, and urge her to, “Speak up! Tell them it really happened. Do something!”
Yet that’s what makes the story so authentic. This was a girl who was mistreated her entire life. She never felt safe or loved, never knew what it was like to feel that someone had her back. Instead of fighting for herself, she withdrew. In psychology, there are primarily two ways someone can respond to that kind of abuse: fight or flight, and neither one is necessarily better than the other. Both can have disruptive consequences.
As someone who witnessed domestic violence as a child between my divorced mother and her then long-term boyfriend, I can attest to the fact that it can leave deep, invisible scars that you may not know are even there. Some clues can crop up in your early years when you might settle for someone who emotionally abuses you, disrespects you, cheats on you or just plain doesn’t make you feel safe. Or maybe you accept a job that isn’t good enough or a lifestyle that isn’t what you imagined for yourself. Whatever it may be, you have not asked for what was rightfully yours, and why you haven’t asked often stems from old belief systems that have no root in reality.
So back to the pivotal scene of emerging self worth (spoiler alert follows). Once it becomes apparent that this rape did in fact happen, she goes to a lawyer to sue the city. In his office, she explains to him that she’s always just taken what she was given because she figured it was good enough. But not this time. The lawyer then says to her, “You know what happens when you decide you’re not going to just take what you can get anymore? You get more.”
There’s something that happens in life when you realize you are good enough. Suddenly you will not settle for less. You accept life’s bounty and the possibility that your cup can runneth over. You think, “there’s so much more out there, and you know what? I deserve it.” In the case of this victim, she was able to garner the strength to live her life at an even higher level than prior to this devastating crime. It is true that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and in her case, and many of our own, what makes you stronger isn’t always pretty.
Honor Your Former Self
When transformation takes place, it’s sometimes swift and merciless. You might not know you even are experiencing growing pains until you start grasping for behaviors from your former self. For me, it was picking up my guitar that had gathered two inches of dust over the last few years, and reconnecting with a good friend who I spent much of my time with in my single years, before I got married and became a mom. In the same way your body let’s you know through pain that something is harmful to you, being taken over by unexpected behaviors can show you that you have heavy emotional waters that need tending to…
My 96-year-old grandmother just passed away this week. Life often operates in curious layers…my body and soul have been undergoing transformations as I recover from a mild case of PTSD from an unplanned C-section with my first born, and have become primarily responsible for a tiny human-being day and night. I changed my name through marriage, rented my home and just sold my old car – the last vestige of my old life. Somehow Grandma dying seemed like the heaviest final nail in the coffin of goodbyes.
I know in my heart that this new life promises to be just as fulfilling and exciting as my last (if not more), but that doesn’t make the process any more emotionally challenging at times, especially when you’re barely sleeping for months caring for your precocious progeny.
But I have had to hit a wall to realize that this change is hard work. And that it’s okay to cling to the residual pieces of the life that was, the same way a snake might briefly look back at the skin it has shed as it dons a new, more beautiful coat. Comparing ourselves to a snake isn’t the most culturally positive metaphor, but it does get the message across that we will and must change to continue to grow and be the most evolved versions of ourselves.
In the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald, it’s never to late to be who you want to be…just remember that you wouldn’t be who you are (and will be) without remembering who you were; celebrate and honor your former selves – we wouldn’t be where we are without them.
Gratitude
Gratitude is a lifesaver. It’s the light at the end of the tunnel. It’s the hope when you question everything. It’s the end to all suffering. When you truly appreciate all the good in your life, you release yourself from fear, pain, anxiety and anguish.
I bought this bracelet when I was walking back from the Esquire theater the other day. I walked into the old “hippie” spiritual stores I frequented in earlier chapters of my college-aged marauder lifestyle, and couldn’t help but gravitate to this simple statement that sits along the most important veins and lifelines to life.
It’s no cliche. When you’re grateful, you realize that many of the wishes from your past are now realities. You understand that seemingly little things like health, an understanding friend, a loving touch are so powerful. Small details are suddenly incredibly impactful. It forces you to focus on the positive things in life, that in turn beget more positive. It also prepares you for an unknown future…because you know that you have so much to be thankful for, that whatever the future brings, it can only be more good, if that’s what you focus upon.
So the next time you’re tempted to focus on the negative (as all human beings do), remember it’s your choice what you allow to permeate your mind. If you have food in your belly, a roof over your head and one or more people who truly love you through and through, you are already better off than you could ever imagine.
No Weddings and a Funeral
In our 20s and sometimes early 30s, we can’t seem to open our mail without another Save the Date for a wedding. What is unsettling and unforeseen is the bevy of funeral invitations that come to us like thieves in the night once we begin to slip into our late thirties, forties and beyond. The landscape begins to look a little different.
The upbeat words of the 80s hit Once in a Lifetime (How did I get here?) now take on an entirely new meaning.
Celebrity deaths can also act as a harbinger. We scratch our heads and ask each other, “Why is everyone dying?” Prince, George Michael, David Bowie, Chris Cornell, Greg Allman…the list goes on and on. We ask as though death isn’t a normal part of life. It’s as if we believe we should only expect to hear about one famous person dying once per decade.
When I saw my first wrinkle, I did what I always do (No, not assail the beauty aisle at Sephora); I sought solace in the writing of those who have lived before. I started with Tich Nhat Hanh. I first discovered him when my highly spiritually-evolved, college roommate used to play [cassette!] recordings of his teachings in our small, but smartly decorated Clifton apartment. He is by far one of the wisest living Buddhists of our generation. I later picked up his book No Death, No Fear. He points out that when it comes to Western Society, there’s usually only two belief systems to choose from: the life-after-death, highly religious view (You will walk in the Kingdom of Heaven, provided you do everything right) or the Nihilist view (Lights out. Thanks for coming.) It’s no wonder why people cringe at any talk of mortality, or choose to distract themselves with ANYTHING versus thinking about the end of their life.
Tich Nhat Hanh’s Buddhist perspective is much more comforting, and makes a lot of sense when you look at our environment, and nature in general. Basically, he contends that when the conditions are right for manifestation, something will manifest, when they are not, it will withdraw. This goes right along with what many scientists have known for some time, and something I’ve always maintained when people ask me if I believe in ghosts or afterlife: “Energy cannot be created nor destroyed.” If you understand this principle, you can take comfort in knowing that there is no birth/death, beginning/end – only transformation. Like an ice cube turning into water or water turning into vapor. It doesn’t die, it just changes form.
I spent last weekend in New Jersey with my Aunt who recently moved to a 55-and-up subdivision at the Jersey Shore. She and her friends were funny and vibrant. In fact, one of the women was rocking a classy, but sexy one-piece swimsuit with cut-outs and a plunging neckline. She was in her 70s and had me considering buying a one-piece for the first time in my life. Another was so vivacious and fun-loving that I had to pick my jaw off the floor when I found out she was 74! Being around this group of people was in a way liberating. It forces you to picture your own life in a few decades. How will you face mortality when it’s staring you straight square in the face? If you prepare for it much earlier in life, you will accept it with grace, peacefulness and gratitude and probably celebrate a long life, well-lived.
Next time you find yourself at a funeral or memorial service (I have another one to attend this month), fondly reminisce that life, but also use it as an opportunity to be more present in your own life. The more aware you are of your mortality, the more alive and vibrant you will be for all the days left until that moment arrives for you.
The Living Lens
Had the pleasure of meeting THE Paul Nicklen and his beautiful and equally talented wife Christina Mittermeier at a showing of their photography tonight. Let me just say the only thing more intriguing than one talented artist is two that are in love with one another.
I realized today that creative people have a way of connecting on such a different level than the average human being. When I spoke to Christina for just a moment I was able to plug into her experience the way the characters in the film Avatar took a creature’s tail and tapped into life’s deepest profound experiences. As she told me about an Arctic subject and how she captured him looking up wonderously at unexpected falling snow, I was miraculously transported into that moment.
Human connection surpasses everything else truly in life. I understood that even more when a hovering gallery rat grabbed her and asked for a selfie, much to her chagrin. Even a Selfie by definition takes away from who she is as an artist. She became an extra in a social media photo of another’s egocentric life. At least art and photography takes the lens off the self and focuses it on nature, life and the Other where it truly belongs.
Back to the Future
Just had my 20-year high school reunion this past weekend (I know, I know, I’m dating myself). It’s amazing how there are special caverns in your heart where forgotten memories, names and faces still lie. Seeing some of those old friends from a bygone era brought a much bigger smile to my face than I could have ever imagined. I think because it awoke a part of me that never really went away, just assimilated into the latest version of me. This makes me think that the past is not a sort of snake skin we shed when it’s over, but instead more like a limb or appendage that can grow back after it’s been cut off.
The past is not always a scary place that we should avoid at all costs-often it’s a necessary destination to revisit and reflect upon so we can remember how we got to where we are, and ground ourselves for a more solid future.
Many people dread reunions. No matter what your status in high school, or even if it might have felt like a scene from the movie “Mean Girls,” go forth with courage and excitement. Your new self will thank you.
Oh, and long live the Spartans!
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