LIFE, UNWOUND: WHEN ONE DOOR CLOSES ANOTHER WILL OPEN

Here is the column I just submitted to the local paper for which I have written for years.  It is time for this door to close to open to who knows what?  I will still post on my website and face book pages, not sure when or what…..  It just feels like time.  I want us all to stay in touch.. Love to you all

EVERYONE IS A TEACHER  THANK YOU

There is a quote which I cannot recall exactly nor find the source. It goes something like this: “The people who show up are the right people. What happens is what is supposed to happen. And when it’s over, it’s over.”

I have been submitting columns to the Portland Press Herald and Forecaster since 2005. Eighteen years. I am so thankful to both papers and for the space. The columns have been filled with tales of this imperfect woman, of this human being’s life’s lessons, often gleaned the hard way, learning from so many teachers. Teachers like poet Mary Oliver, “what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”  

And Rumi, “wherever you stand, be the soul of that place.” 

Teachers like five-year-old grandchildren, “Susu, you should sit still.” 

Teachers like cousins, brothers and sisters, “Hey, Sis, did you know YOLO means you only live once?” 

Teachers like students and clients. Teachers like those who emailed to thank me for the column, who wrote, “I am clipping it out and sending it to my aunt,” or, “I cut it out and keep it folded in my wallet.” 

Teachers like those who took the time to send me emails saying, “you seem arrogant and snobby and not deserving of the print on the page.” 

All of them, all of you, are the right people, have been what has kept both the structure (tell a life story, unwind the lesson) and the fluidity (pick whatever topic comes to mind) in my thinking and writing. Thank you.

What has happened over these last eighteen years has been exactly what was supposed to happen. The laughs, the gentle smiles, those who reached out in gratitude over the internet or by chance at the grocery store, were all meant to be, who said, “I really enjoyed your most recent article. Made me smile.”

 What was also meant to be was the criticism, the reaming me out for this or that flaw, this or that character defect, in my writing or my personality, intuited through my words. I made many mistakes. I apologize to those hurt. 

Everyone offered valuable nuggets. I benefitted from of it. It all mattered. You matter. Your reading of my writing has mattered to me. I paid close attention to the lessons your words taught me, pleasant and not so. Thank you.

And when it’s over, it’s over. I don’t fully understand this feeling of “it’s time, to let Life Unwound go.” But I feel it as truth. At almost seventy-four, with four grandchildren in Massachusetts, as I inhabit the no-longer eighteen-year-old body, its rhythm or youthful energy, with duties calling me into much-needed caring for others, it is time for me to stop, maybe to rest more in my present moments, maybe to get clear about what might be next. I am more and more aware that the future is promised to none of us and that part of my work, part of our work here, is to learn to navigate uncertainty. 

There is beauty in all of these past eighteen years for me, gratitude in all of it. Please stay in touch if you want. It is possible I will still post on my blog from time to time.  Blessings to you all. Take good care.