The Gifts Of Friends And Time

Janet opening uncorking wine.

Janet opening uncorking wine.

Just a week ago this past Sunday, I found myself on Chincoteague Island. The day time temperature was about 60 degrees and the sun was sparkling away on the water. I was with four other women, who I’d first met on the internet as I began my journey as a memoirist.

Known for the book, Misty of Chincoteague, written by Marguerite Henry, and illustrated by Wesley Dennis, Chincoteague is where every summer the wild ponies of Assateague Island are sent swimming across a narrow inlet to Chincoteague, where many go up for adoption to families looking to make a child’s dream of owning a pony, come true. It’s a way of managing the ever growing herd, leaving space for the next year’s babies.

Shirley preparing Waldorf Salad.

Shirley preparing Waldorf Salad.

There was Shirley, who I’d met first a couple of years ago. I’d been following her blog and knew she lived about an hour away over in the Shenandoah Valley. I was considering taking a class about book marketing and knowing that she had taken the same class earlier, I called her hoping she would give me an honest opinionn of her experience. She was just finishing work on her memoir, Blush: A Mennonite Girl Meets a Glittering World. I invited her to come and stay with me during the Virginia Festival of the Book, held here in Charlottesville, every March.

She came and spent several nights with me. We enjoyed the book festival and spent lots of time talking about our writing projects. Shirley’s generosity in sharing what she knew about publishing and writing memoir was beyond anything I’d dreamed of. A few months later, I visited her for several nights in her home. She read the first couple of chapters of my book, made extremely helpful suggestions, and provided encouragement. I will be forever grateful for her views and her friendship. On this trip she was a awesome roommate and my chauffeur extraordinaire.

Janet was the second of these women I’d met in person. We’d been following each other’s blogs and chatted by email about dealing with aging mothers. I discovered that she lived in a town in Vermont where I had lived for thirteen years, and had recently written a memoir about her Peace Corps years, At Home on the Kazakh Steppe. I knew I had to meet her. On a trip to up north last fall, I gave Janet a call and we met for lunch. I read her book, and loved her story about her experiences living and working in Kazakhstan for two years. I hoped we’d get a chance to get together again. Finding out that she had a home on Virginia’s, Chincoteague Island, about 5 hours away, I invited her to come and visit anytime she was in the area. We talked briefly about how much fun it would be to get together with Shirley, and several other memoirists we both knew on the internet.

Magnificent Chef Kathy!

Magnificent Chef Kathy!

One of those other writers was Kathy, whose blog, over at, Memior Writers Journey, is one of best places to learn about blogging and writing in general. Her interviews with other memoir writers have been invaluable for me as I continue to work on my own book. She invited me to write a guest blog for her, which I did, and I cheered her on as she published her memoir, Ever Faithful to his Lead, a story about her experience finding her way our of two abusive marriages. When I asked her to be a beta reader for me I found her generosity and willingness to help me  far beyond any expectations I had. I knew I had to meet her someday.

Marian, the charming and entertaining writer over at Plain and Fancy, a blog I’ve been following for over a year, was the one I knew the least about. But her stories connecting her childhood to present day happenings is delightful, as is her use of old memorabilia, from photos to recipes, as the basis for her enchanting writings. She has just begun writing her own memoir about growing up Mennonite and her move away from being plain to a fancy member of the world. Captivated by Marian’s sense of humor and openness, I’m happy to have been able to spend time with her, and get to know her better. Despite our different backgrounds, we have a lot in common.

Marian, Kathy, and Me.

Marian, Kathy, and Me.

I know the moon and the tides played a part in sweeping us all ashore together for an unforgettable week of writing, eating healthy, home cooked meals and sharing unending laughter. Janet’s log cabin was a perfect place for such a retreat and her hospitality was unending.

Just over a week later, as snow is falling and accumulating outside my window, I’m remembering those seven days I spent on Janet’s warm sunporch, where I set up my computer and revised seven chapters of my upcoming book. Inspire by Shirley and Kathy taking a hiatus from social media for Lent, this will be my last post until April. I will not be present on Facebook or Twitter, two places that take too much of my writing time. I plan on continuing the revisions of my book, shoveling snow, and watching the crocuses and daffodils reach for the sun when all the snow is gone.

For information about renting Janet’s cabin for your own retreat go here.

Insight Dialogue And What Is Most Important To Us

 Lotus © Joan Z. Rough

Lotus © Joan Z. Rough

This past Saturday I returned to the annual, Insight Dialogue Retreat, that one of my favorite people and teachers, Sharon Beckman-Brindley, teaches here in Charlottesville, as an offering of the Insight Meditation Community of Charlottesville.

These retreats have been scheduled every January for the past several years, and it’s a magical way to start the New Year. By the end of the day, one participant wanted to know, why we all had to go home. “Couldn’t we just keep going?” My feelings exactly, except I really did need a break to go home, eat dinner, and have a good night’s sleep. But had the retreat been scheduled to continue on Sunday, I would have been there in a heart beat.

Insight Dialogue, is the practice of working with a partner to whom we speak and listen to, as we contemplate a series of questions on a given theme. This year’s theme was about intentions and what is important to us as we navigate through our lives. As we slowly walked around the room, we were stopped by the instructor and told to engage a partner for the first contemplation, find seats across from each other, and decide who would be the first speaker.

Our first contemplation was, “What are the intentions you wish to carry with you throughout your life?” We were all encouraged to relax and pause if the speaker needed time to pull his or her thoughts together, or the listener needed time to banish intrusive thoughts. Each pause provided stillness in which new thoughts and insights arose and could be added to the conversation.

The speakers were then directed to talk about a difficulty in their lives and how they might use their intentions to make the situation less difficult. Other questions followed, with the speaker addressing what was true for them, always pausing to reflect on new insights.  The listener then had a chance to respond to the speaker and  talk about how the speaker’s words affected them.

Exchanging roles from speaker to listener and listener to speaker, the process began again, with the new speaker answering the same or similar questions. We were continuously reminded to relax, pause, close our eyes, and take a deep breath when necessary.

Except for the time that dialogue was taking place, we spent the rest of our time in silence, even during breaks and while having lunch, allowing more time for us to continue our own contemplations of our intentions.

Continuing on into the afternoon, additional questions with new partners were contemplated, each taking a turn at addressing the questions being asked. By the end of the afternoon we had each shared contemplations with three other people.

It’s always an amazing and cleansing activity for me, as I dig deep to find my truth, and practice being an intent listener. It becomes very clear that insights arise during our brief pauses, when we are in the moment.

The first time I went to one of these retreats, I had no idea what to expect and was very nervous about speaking so openly and intimately about myself and my inner world. But it’s become a yearly ritual for me and each time I come away with new insights about myself and inspiration from those I sit and speak with.  Often long lasting friendships are forged.

This time around I discovered that I’ve always kept the good things I feel about myself under wraps. Saturday afternoon, while discussing the good things that we do as we move through our lives, I realized, I’d been taught as a young girl that it was incorrect to talk about my goodness. Good little girls were not supposed to speak about how nice we were. It was a form of bragging and always seemed to bring on the same response to the silly questions I often asked … silence.

As a result, I was led to believe that the good things I did were unimportant. Only the bad things, like doing something stupid, talking back to my parents, or disobeying them, counted in any description of who I was at the time, both in my mother and father’s minds, as well as my own.

I also learned that I’d already used one of my intentions for this new year. I DARED to post a somewhat controversial, political essay last week here on my blog. I don’t normally like to do that. I like to be positive at all times, and dislike confrontation and disagreement. I’d learned early on to keep my mouth shut about things like that. Although no one needs to agree with what I wrote, I’m rather proud of myself for standing up and speaking out about an issue that was of great concern to me.

Setting intentions for a day, a year, or a lifetime are always good things to do.  If you have intentions for the next ten minutes, this coming year, or for the rest of your life, what are they and how do see yourself manifesting them?

There’s No Place Like Home

Bryant Park

Bryant Park

I’m just back from New York City, where Bill and I spent five days taking a break from the “same old, same old.”  It’s been a tough couple of weeks for Bill, especially. His computer crashed with the play he’d been revising for an upcoming spring staged reading here in Charlottesville and another reading in New York City in May at the Dramatist Guild.  There is, however, a new computer in the works and the techies who are transfering data to the new robotic brain believe that the script and other files of value came through without a hitch.  We’ll know for sure tomorrow.

I’ve not been to the city this close to Christmas since I was a little kid, living on Long Island.  On several occasions my dad took my brothers and me into the city to shop at Macy’s for Christmas gifts.  I remember it as lots of fun.  My brothers sat on Santa’s lap, while I checked out the latest lipstick shades, picking one I thought would look good on my mother.  We ate lots of chocolate and candy canes, while we looked for those special trinkets we’d wrap and put under the tree, emptying the piggy banks that we’d stuffed all year long with allowances.

Shop Window at Rockefeller Center

Shop Window at Rockefeller Center

After this trip I’ve promised myself I won’t return again this close to Christmas and Hanukkah.  The Streets and sidewalks were jammed with shoppers and tourists from all over the world.  New York is an international city where languages from around the world can be heard, especially at this time of year. I was overwhelmed by the walls of people heading in my direction. Listening carefully, I realized I was not alone with my panic. As we passed one vacant doorway, I overheard a man telling his wife that they would just stay put until there was a break in the crowd.  A while later, a young woman rushed by, pulling her boyfriend along, who was pleading, “Please get me out of here.  I can’t do this.”

We saw three broadway shows, two of which I thought were good, but still nothing that inspired me.  We also took in three movies, the best of which was, St. Vincent, with Bill Murray, which was delightful and whose main character I could relate to.  We also saw, Citizenfour and Whiplash. Though both are great movies and award material, their serious nature left me feeling a bit raw.

The Tree at Bryant Park

The Tree at Bryant Park

We also went to the Tenement Museum in lower Manhattan where we took a 90 minute tour of one of the buildings the museum has redone, where I got a glimpse into what living arrangements were probably like for my grandparents, who came to the States from Poland in the early 1900’s. I look forward to going back some day to do the museum’s food tasting tour which sounds quite yummy.

I was whisked away into the whirl wind of city life, but am so happy to be home again. When our train pulled into Charlottesville on our return, we both joyfully realized that going away is what one needs in order to understand that coming home to the “same old, same old,” is where we really want to be.

Kickin’ Back

Snow day, January 2012.

Snow day, January 2012.

Excuse me while I take some time off from my blog.  Even though it hasn’t snowed much here this winter, this past January has been the coldest on record in twenty years.  I like to lay low in the winter, taking my time with everything … napping, cooking and enjoying soups, stews and braises.  There hasn’t been time for any of that this past month with the renovations we’ve undergone, so I’m hearby declaring the next week my hibernation week.  It can snow or do whatever it wants.  I’m staying put. I’ll cook a pot roast, and put away all the kitchen things that have been packed away in boxes over the past month. I can’t wait to see all my cookbooks lined up on the shelves that we had especially built just for them.  I’m also rearranging furniture all over the house and setting myself up for the newness of spring’s arrival next month.

I’ll be back next week with something useful or knowledgable to tell you about … or not.  In the meantime go sledding, bake cookies, read a good book, or clean out a closet. Let’s simply the enjoy the next week as it is … rain, sleet, snow, or sun.  It’s good for our health to just slow down and breathe deeply.

Be Grateful, Stay Sane

DSC00487.JPGIt’s the time of year when all of us start looking forward, wondering what the new year will bring our way.  Though I prefer to live on a day to day basis, I’m  preparing for the big renovation we’ll be doing here in January.  I’ve got things to pack up and sort out. I need to figure out how I’m going to handle certain problems like continuing to eat the healthy way I do while not having a fully equipped kitchen available to me.

For part of the time we’ve decided to get a room at the nearby Residence Inn where we’ll have a small kitchenette and our dogs are welcome.  I’m making double recipes of things like soups and freezing the left overs so that we’ll have some good quality food while we’re there. But if the project takes longer than they say it will, we’ll need to move back home, rather than spread our budget to its breaking point.  It’s all going to be costly, and we don’t want to go overboard.

While part of me excitingly deals with details like paint colors, choosing a new bathtub, and lighting fixtures, another part of me is freaking out. “Everything will be a mess. How will I organize the things I ‘may’ need on a daily basis? How will the cat adjust to the noise and invasion of her space?  Will I be able to keep my cool without living with the debilitating anxiety that often overtakes me when I’m living in a transitional space?”

I’m easily triggered by what is happening around me and having my house torn apart will not be an easy.  I was a building contractor’s daughter and have lived this kind of life many times before. The idea was that once a house my Dad was building was under roof and halfway finished we’d move in and work on finishing it up until it was done and the buyers took over.  We’d move on to the next unfinished home often living without doors on bathrooms, cooking on a camping stove, and once again waiting to move on the next site. I also know that projects like this usually takes longer than first expected. We’ve been told it will take four weeks.

I’ve come a long way in recovering from my PTSD and I think I’ll be fine.  I can easily recognize triggers and change the direction of where I’m headed quickly. I’ve learned a lot about patience and the things you can’t do anything about like ice storms, power outages, getting the flu, or simply feeling sorry for myself. What ever happens, I know I’ll get through it and will learn a few lessons along the way. New life lessons are always a given.

I’m preparing by designing a plan that will help me focus on being comfortable throughout the project.  I’ll get back to meditating on a more regular basis, make a few artist dates with myself, keep working on my book in my studio, which is over the garage not in the house, move a cot up to the studio for an occasional nap, and just do the best I can. I may wipe out once or twice, but I’m only human and know I won’t fall as hard as I used to.

I plan on staying mindful and somewhat balanced by sharing things that I am grateful for on my Facebook and Twitter pages, on a daily basis, until the project is done and I’ve moved back into my house. I’ll start on January 1th  in preparation for the the first day of work which is scheduled for January 6th, when the slate tilesd floor in the kitchen will most likely be demolished.

I’m calling it, “Be Grateful, Stay Sane Month.” It will hopefully be a way for me to keep my attitude positive during a possibly trying time. If any of you would like to join me please do.  Simply post things you are grateful on my gratefulness posts on Facebook or Twitter.  It will be a great way to start the New Year.