Saturday Morning & the SAT

I dropped the child-wonder off to take the SAT this morning. She was selected to participate in a talent search program because of her academic performance and the SAT is a part of the process. It was an odd experience, standing there, sharing her excitment and her apprehension at taking this college-bound test. I was grateful for the gift of such a bright and Loving child. Watching her realize how young she is, ("Mommy, I think I'm the youngest one here") and then be so composed amidst the river of high school students that surrounded us.

Driving home, I had a wave of sadness. I'm not sure where the feeling came from; maybe just the understanding that she is such a separate entity from me. Connected to me, yes, but taking big steps into her own future. I remember when I stood in that place and I feel just a little frightened that she may step in some of the spots I landed in. I realize I cannot prevent any of that from happening. There is just so much I desire for that jewel, so much she deserves.

Anyway, I snapped myself out of that train of thought and started to get really pumped-up about the possibilities for her. I can't even imagine half of what she may be able to do and be. But, that's one of the joys of parenting. I also thought about all the children who don't have this opportunity, through no fault of their own, and felt priveleged and lucky and thankful. There are so many moments I get to have because of my education and the part of the world in which I live. I can only imagine how different my Life would be if I had been born and lived in Soweto or Kosovo.

Onto another topic: those promotions at work are looking a bit more elusive than they did at the end of last year. When my boss sat me down to break the news that it wasn't going to be a done deal - there would be hoops through which I had to successfully jump, it didn't take me by surprise or throw me off balance and that, my friends, is a real sign of growth. I simply told my boss I was committed to the work and would do my part to make it happen and was relying on him to do his part. He is, for the most part, a good guy and I think he will do what he can to support my upward movement. So, we'll see if the stars line up and the hard work pays off.

Lately, I've been thinking more and more about the whole concept of retirement. I have 6.5 years to vest with my current employer and 9.5 before I could retire with a modest pension. That's not too shabby considering I haven't saved a penny except for the equity in my home, which technically still belongs to the bank and won't be paid off for another 21 years. That's yet another reason I really want the promotion and it's associated raise. I'd like to pay off the house a lot sooner. In fact, if I could do it in the 9.5 years between now and that carrot of a pension, I feel like my mature years could be a bit of a party. Assuming that Congress is able to stop little Georgie from increasing troops and completely screwing-up foriegn affairs in the last couple of years of his term, of course.

I dream the big dreams of my womanchild living a Life that fulfills her, selling the house for a nice two bedroom condo in the heart of the city, consulting, taking courses, traveling; maybe even a man in there somewhere.

Ah, to have hope, to dream, to Live.

Later Gators...

Well, I turned 50 (if you did the math you knew that already) and it was anticlimatic. I realize I have spent much of the past 10 years in anticipation of when things would get better. I am just beginning to come to terms with the reality that things are exactly what they are.

Most days I feel the need to think in future terms - someday when my Prince comes, when my pockets overflow, when the world truly lives in peace... Such nice fantasies.

On rare days I face what is right in front of me. I've been reading "The Power of Now"; all about focusing on the present as it is, which ain't really all that bad. I try to remember that. I try to Live out of that.

Easy Greasy...

Day One

Starting a new blog is an interesting process. My first blog was/is dedicated to my random thoughts, to sharing some of myself with the world and to learning about this method of communication. I began to think about creating a new space when I could not correctly insert a music player with another host. I began to think it might be nice to have a focus, though I didn't know what I wanted that focus to be.

I'm not sure what brought me here, today. What made today the day the I would really start this blog? I don't even completely know why I am starting it. I'm feeling my way through, trying to be an earnest observer of my Life so that my reflections have meaning. Trying to understand what I want to have happen and how much say I have in what actually does happen in my Life.

I'm going to be 50 in less than 6 months, That's the one thing of which I am sure; the one thing about which I have clarity. Oddly enough, after all this time in my skin, I don't feel like myself. I don't feel powerful or confident. I feel grossly overweight, slow. A woman with creaky knees and chin stubble.

I am going to be 50 in less than 6 months and I feel as if I don't have endless chances. As if there was a lesson I was supposed to learn that I missed because I was distracted by petty emotional desires. I feel apologetic for wasting time. A woman with graying hair and middle aged paunch.

50 in less than 6 months and I wonder what happened to all that potential I possessed. What did I do with it? I know I had it, once. Maybe I have it still, but I'm not sure.

I am going to be 50 and I have decided to do a few things differently, to change some things about the way I operate.

I suppose I could use this blog to list them and keep track of how well I do them and beat myself up when I fall off the path I have chosen. But, I don't want to do that. That's what I always do.

I want to do a new, but largely unknown thing. Walk some path that I don't know the way of and can't see the end to (oooh, a sentence with two hanging prepositions). I want to speak in a new way, swing my hips to a secret rhythm of my own making, smile at Life's jokes without the cloud of disappointment that I see swirling through my Life.

I want to walk in grace and care for myself, as a forethought. Do the small things that signify that I care for myself, Love this brown-skinned Life of mine, appreciate breath and laughter and even stumbling. I want to honor these things in everyday actions like brushing my teeth for 3 minutes or eating well, exercising, learning something new and interesting.

I want to fall in Love with myself and I guess that is why I am writing this blog. To somehow capture in words this process of my heart. To hold to this path of Love, simple Love that doesn't need grand gestures or rhetoric, sweeping changes or half-truths. A Love that only needs to be real - that's what I want the next 6 months to be about.

My name is Gayle, I turn 50 in six months and I want to learn what it feels like to Love myself.

Mermaids and My Womanchild

Spent a day hanging out with my pre-teen and her friends. We went to see a screening of "Aqua Marine", Hollywood's "Little Mermaid" for the slightly older crowd. Suffice it to say, it was a very longggg day.

Being with young, pert "we know everything and you're old" girls was nothing if not mind bending. And it made me think about how Madison Ave. sells to these little ones. The not so subtle way beauty (as defined by those who sell it) is glorified - every young girl wants to be beautiful, but not every young girl wants to be capable and smart and gloriously living out the power of her person.

I struggle with this because I want the womanchild I am raising to Love herself unconditionally and to expect everything from Life. I want her to cultivate her mind and her body, but I want her to be intimate with her Spirit.

I am a woman who has rejected the importance of the beauty of the physical form. It's a carry over from childhood and it's a liability. I suffered from being told I was unattractive and flawed and overweight for all of my young Life. So, that when I finally looked into a mirror, I could not see the swan staring back at me - she looked always like a duck. To compensate I decided that beauty, my beauty especially, didn't matter.

Now, it truly is the inside of a person that counts, but what draws many to that light is what they see on the outside. I get it, I'm just not buying it. I still think it's a waste of time and money to pay others to do my hair, and paint my nails and sand the dead skin off the soles of my feet. All the rituals of feminine beauty (which more and more men now partake of) seem smoke and mirrors to me; a slight of hand and suddenly I have much less money in the bank, lots more little containers filled with color of all types and a sense that all this will somehow make me more attractive.

More attractive than my self, prettier than I am, sexier and more appealing to those men I am trying to ensnare. After about two weeks, the thrill is always gone and I begin to wonder why the uneven skin tone, the pinkish brown tones of my lips, and every other bit of me is not beautiful to the world around me. When I look at myself through the eyes of others I am disheartened. Not that I think others are repulsed by me, but they are not drawn in by my physical form. No, that would take a little make believe and pretend out of a bottle. It's ironic that I just want to be seen and Loved and viewed as beautiful by the world around me, but the world requires I do a little enhancement first. And, except for plucking those chin hairs which I just can't abide and coloring the grey which seems to make me feel old, I simply won't take the time or energy to do.

It's a stand I have taken in Life that has proven to be like spitting in the wind. It doesn't help to be so out of touch/step with the rest of the world. It gets you discounted.

But, back to my womanchild. She hasn't yet started experimenting with make-up in earnest. She is just beginning to be conscious of her body and what she wears. I watch her stare at her image in the mornings and hope she like what she sees. I hope she Loves what she sees. I do, when I look at her, but my opinion means less (or appears to anyway) these days.

As long as she knows that her full lips, hips and her broad nose are beautiful and that the milk choclate skin that covers them is exquisite. I want her to feel in her soul that her brown and golden touched hair is perfect in its kinky and locked state - gorgeous just the way it grows from her beautiful head. Because what I learned (maybe too late in Life) is that if you know your beauty and believe it to be so, others will be enamored with you. They can't help it, confidence is beautiful.

For all the little girls, no matter their color or shape or size I wish a sense of peace and wholeness with their physical form. That they reject the notion that there is some standard of beauty against which they fall short. That they shine from the inside out, always and forever...

post script: a few of you over these past months have mistaken me for the beautiful brown woman holding my great neice. That's my sis-in-law, Ethel, the dove from Harlem. I'm the lady in the pink turtleneck with her handsome nephews. I considered flying incognito for a bit longer, but the layers peeled back and there it is...Later Gators...

F*ck the Muck

This week has been a funky ride. I've been immersed in the muck of me. I thought my little experiment "What if..." would free me from my self criticism. As it turns out, the years have allowed me to hoard a heap of negativity related to my self image. So, I find myself asking "What if..." thousands of time a day - or so it seems.

And that, my friends, makes me think "What is wrong with me?" and that sends me right back to my never ending line of questioning. So, for the past few days I have been in a pouty, menstrual and basically foul mood. I tend to isolate when I get like that - it never occurs to me to just bitch out loud in my blog. However, Lynn (dearheart, who is taking her blog underground or out of bounds) suggested in her last blog that that's the whole point. We can get as plain and funky as we like.

So, sitting on my family room futon, watching American Idol with the wonder-child, ignoring the pangs of cramps and the river of red that pours forth from my womb, I've decided to write.

This week has seen my dear friend and neighbor laid low by depression. She's been diagnosed with a small tumor in her brain, on the pituitary. Tonight she told me the shrinks think she may also be bipolar. She and I worked together a few years ago (when I had my consulting thing going) and I love and care for her deeply. I spent a couple of evenings this week sitting in her presence making her laugh, and when I couldn't do that, settling for a smile and when I couldn't get that, just filling the silence with my voice because I thought she needed that and when that wasn't right, I just listened. Listened to the pain that fills her body and how tired she is of bearig it, to the stress and tension and fear behind every one of her words. And, I listened to her hope and I shared it.

At work I discovered that my new boss, who is also a work friend, is (as most people are) running her own agenda and actively working to draw me into it. Now, I am just not cut out for the intrigue and politics of American worklife. It's stupid, or maybe I'm stupid, but I just find the whole game lacking in integrity. My aim is to remain balanced, true to the work and committed to finding the adaptive, higher order solutions to the issues and changes that we're facing.

But, I realize that others may attempt to force me into choosing sides (because there is always another side in these matters) and engaging in their lower order war games.

I just hope they don't force my hand on a day when I have my period.

There you have it my blogland friends. F*ck the muck - right now life sucks. (Typing that felt really good, in the most juvenile way!)

Take it light...