Midwest Gypsy

  
The best writers write about what they know, and the easiest way for me to blog daily is to recount my days. That’s what I do when I journal every morning, and it has worked well for many years. Lately, a pervasive theme has been ‘listening.’

At least three close friends of mine are struggling, the kind of struggling that makes one want to crawl into bed and hide underneath the sheets. One has escaped an emotionally abusive relationship and is trying to discover herself. Another is frustrated beyond measure with the judicial system and is in real fear of financial insecurity. Still another is dealing with the consequenc s of a DUI that might include the loss of custody of her two sons as well as the loss of the teaching position she’s had for 18 years, which impacts her health insurance and her retirement.

All heavy stuff. Absolutely none of which I’ve experienced. And yet they are pouring out their hearts to me. 

That is something that was almost hard to accept, since my initial inclination always is to help, or fix, or advise, or something. It’s hard, and it makes me feel really powerless. 

Just when I was starting to feeling down about it, it occured to me that I was starting to make it about ME, and how *I* didn’t know what to say to them about their situations. That was pretty selfish to make it about me, don’t you think?

But then a profound thought crossed my mind: all I had to do is listen. Nothing more was being asked of me. I began to relax. Actually, the feeling was quite liberating. 

I treasure the trust my friends have placed in me. They know that whatever they tell me goes no further. So I do what I can for my friends: I listen, and I pray for them. I know that that’s enough.

Something really amazing happened yesterday, but I didn’t realize it at the time. A woman whom I had previously met months ago at my support group meeting showed up again yesterday, and when our eyes met, we smiled and nodded. The meeting was already well underway, and any pleasantries would have to wait until it ended.

When it did, Ali and I hugged as though we were old friends. We have The Keys in common, and that’s quite unusual for two relative strangers in Hopkinsville. I lived on a sailboat in Key West in the late 1970’s and she currently lives in Marathon. She’s from here originally and is back for a visit. We made small talk for awhile, and since she’ll be here for another week, I figured I’d see her again. I went home, not giving her much more thought.

…until this morning when I opened my journal to write. Exactly one year ago yesterday, I wrote about meeting a woman at my meeting who was from Marathon and with whom I had connected, even so far as to exchange phone numbers. It was Ali. I couldn’t believe it was a year to the day! What are the chances of that? I immediately chalked it up to being a God-thing; that’s how I look at seeming coincidences. Chance has nothing to do with it.

I believe that people come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Ali’s path along her life’s journey has serendipitously intersected with mine, and even if ‘the reason’ is never revealed, I have complete trust in the process. I’m just so grateful for having the awareness of recognizing how special this blessing is.

Something similar to this happened years ago outside the restrooms at the Dismal Swamp Canal Visitors Center in North Carolina. As I was about to open the door to walk inside, a woman I met at the Capital Yacht Club months earlier in Washington, DC walked out. Our eyes met, and again, it was a magical reunion! Almost twenty years later, I still remember her name, where she was from, and even the name of her boat (Janet, California, Windfall.) I’m smiling just remembering this event!

I can’t explain why memories such as these remain so vivid when I can’t even remember what I had for breakfast this morning. I’m sure the feeling of connection is integral. That it’s fleeting doesn’t matter; what does is that it feels good. I love surprises like that!

Well, what do you know? It’s the eighth day of the month as well as the eighth day of my self-imposed  30-day writing challenge–a commitment intended to push me back into writing, something I’ve always loved to do but for one reason or another had not done for months–so I am on schedule. Amazingly. I’ve already almost given up a couple of times because of writer’s block. And I feel as though I have to apologize for the blogs I’ve written this past week; I’m extremely self-critical and know I can do better. 

Marston’s quote is appropriate for this month-long exercise because it emphasizes the importance of today’s actions affecting tomorrow. Sometimes when I set goals for myself, I want perfection immediately, and that is a recipe for disaster. I have to be realistic about my expectations and about what I am capable of doing now. In this case, just getting back into the habit of writing takes conscious effort to incorporate it into my daily routine. It takes time to build a good foundation, but it will be well worth it. 

One of my goals is to find out more about WordPress and its capabilities and eventually have a really dynamite website, full of worthwhile content–except I haven’t decided on any particular subject yet. No matter. Learning all what WordPress can do is a bit intimidating, but blogging everyday should acquaint me with some of the whistles and bells that will help build a much better website than what I currently have. 

For now I just want to get in the habit of blogging daily. I’ve journaled daily for years, so I know it’s doable. I know that a change of attitude from thinking that I have to write to wanting to write will have a positive influence on my daily goal, which in turn should improve the quality of my writing. Time will tell, one day at a time. 

Even if she weren’t my granddaughter, I would probably take note of this little person. She is definitely unique. She is only seven years old, and what a character she is!

She loves to cruise in the car with the sunroof open while listening to the music on Pandora. Her favorite singers are Taylor Swift and Pat Benatar and she really, really wants to have hair like Cyndi Lauper–cut-and-colors, of course. And why not? She’s worn a pixie haircut with a colored stripe for more than a year.

She’s hilarious. When her mom answered her question, “What’s the name of this (Rolling Stones’) song?” with “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” she replied, “I know! But what’s the name of this song???”

Unlike most people, Maeby knows who she is. At day camp this past summer she was asked what she wanted to be when she grew up and she answered, “I’m already an artist,” and indeed she is. She was greatly inspired by another artists at the Torpedo Factory in Alexandria, Virginia, and now she creates embossed greeting cards that are displayed and sold at a downtown art gallery. Every month she takes the commission check she earns to the bank; she’s saving to buy a bike. Of course, the people at the bank love her to pieces.

And now she can already claim being an award-winning photographer..her entry was selected as the the Youth division winner of the local USO’s photography contest and an enlarged canvas print of it will hang in the lobby of the newly built Fort Campbell USO Transition Center. Early one morning, she noticed the beauty of the sunrise reflecting off the clouds and grabbed her mom’s phone to capture the moment. For that she got kudos from the USO rep, who encouraged her to always take the time to capture those moments and to not delay because that particular moment will be gone forever. Good advice for many things, I thought.

Maeby’s an Army brat who has already moved three times in her short life, and it seems that her artwork gives her the ability to not only express herself, but to be independent, not having to rely on others for entertainment. How amazing is that? Probably as amazing as watching her grow up will be.

Today is only Day 3 of the writing challenge and already the thought “I have nothing to blog about,” crossed my mind, so I sought a prompt from WordPress’ Blogging U. One of the first on the list was ‘Introduce Yourself.’ I immediately froze.

I know the importance of “credentials.” After all, who is going to pay attention to someone who knows nothing about the subject? Oftentimes I check out the “About Me/Us” tabs on a website to find out something about the author. 

But to write about my self seems so…so conceited and ego-driven. Things I truly dislike in people who are. And as “different” as I’ve always felt and as different a lifestyle I’ve had (no doubt fueled by years of living on a boat and in an RV), I’ve never wanted to stand out. 

But, if I’m ever going to take this blog to the next level, whatever that may be, the About Me will have to be addressed. Although my long-distance physical travels have been curtailed temporarily, I’m still having adventures. Every single day.

“Maria Russell is a 60-something whose gypsy-spirit is alive and well, in spite of settling down in recent years. She’s discovering that life’s journey does not have to be on the move physically. Rather, one’s own transition can be just as exciting, just as educational, just as fulfilling. Follow her as she blindly delves into her Golden Years while still maintaining a foothold in her youth, at least in her mind.”