The Sweet Spot

Was it this (blasted) office project that has got me to thinking more about what my future plans will or should entail? I've been avoiding cleaning out and organizing it for a few years now, and then all of a sudden it was THE day to begin. I knew the task would be long and challenging. I knew that in facing all of that 'stuff' I would be called upon to make decisions. What stays? What goes? What holds value? What is no longer useful?

I've gotten rid of old files and created new ones. I have shredded reams of bank statements, insurance forms, receipts and records. Tossed out user manuals, out dated Christmas card lists and blurred photos. The recycling bin (which is the size of an enormous garbage can) is mostly full this week because of my efforts.

And I have finally dug into The Sweet Spot: That tender place I had been unwilling to touch for years that held homework projects, awards, schedules, team rosters, cards and small bits of paper written or drawn upon by three pair of young hands. Now that I've spent time with it, I know with crystal clarity why I rushed by so quickly, eyes averted, each day. It was something I didn't want to deal with and so pretended it wasn't even there. In the meantime it had grown like a mis-managed rhododendron; thick leaves and sturdy branches strewn about on top of one another representing years that have passed and boys that have grown.  A marriage matured, family threads interwoven and unique memories. Roots that run healthy and deep.

I didn't want to revisit that pile for what I did not want to see: Time.

In turning over what had settled comfortably into that spot, I've come across grade school collages, college essays, poems, drawings, sports programs, acknowledgments, certificates, newspaper articles and notes. One of my favorites was a piece of paper with tape stuck to it shouting "MOM CAN WE GO TO THE LIBRARY TODAY?" scrawled in a nine-year-old hand. There were comments on a first grade report card (one of which was 'quite a talker') that accurately describe a certain son as the adult he is today. A collection of photos show another, book in hand, in a rocking chair, in a beach chair, by the fire, by a pool, at home, on vacation......you name it. Photos of him, of course, are still likely to be snapped with the book he is currently reading found somewhere within the frame. There is a photo of an exhausted three year old, sitting up to the dinner table, head fallen back, mouth open, eyes closed......asleep in front of a plate of lasagna and garlic bread. The same kid who, this many years later, would still never desert a good plate of food.

And so it goes. The Sweet Spot has not disappeared but has been sifted through, divided up and saved. Its unruliness neatly portioned off for each son, waiting for the right occasion to be passed on.

It's time for a change. Time to take stock. Time to wrap up a couple of projects and stamp them FINISHED. Time to ramp up and plan to put a couple of new ideas in motion. In other words, in my world, its time to shake things up a bit. Cleaning out the office.....revisiting those years that hung out in the pile in the corner reminded me of this......and I think that's a good thing every so often. 

Wishing you a wonderful week ahead!

Margaret 

Ash Wednesday

St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Healdsburg, CA

It's fitting that after a very enjoyable week of tasting food and wine, we head home today. I will say that we didn't overdo any of it. Not too much food or too much wine......unless of course I am forced to count the sparkling wine I tried yesterday that I accidentally had too much of. Of which I had no idea until it was pointed out that I was giggling my way through lunch. And humming. And maybe talking a bit too loudly. To our credit we did fit in some exercise during the week.

I love the rhythm that the seasons of the year give our lives. That I have reminders to pay attention to what I otherwise might not. If you're interested, T S Elliot wrote a poem entitled Ash Wednesday that I like. I couldn't find a good link to it on line, but you may be able to.

Cheers!

Warmly, Margaret

Year One

I'm kind of big on anniversaries, those reoccurring dates that serve as both reminder and motivator.  I take advantage of the framework they create to make plans, resolutions and decisions. Use them as markers to look back at where I've been and see what direction I'm headed. When certain numbers show up on the calendar, I'm tempted to take a deep breath and turn in a circle with eyes wide open in order to view with greater clarity where I stand at that very moment. I want to pause and figure out how it is that I ended up on this exact piece of ground.

Yesterday was the one year anniversary of my first post on this blog.  I'd been considering beginning one for quite a few months before that. By the time I punched Publish Post for the first time, I had already spent time outlining and figuring out my font, format and header. I had thought a lot about why I wanted to do it. Why it would be good for me. What I wanted it to focus on and be about. What I wanted to focus on and be about. 

In the very beginning I was nervous. None of my family, friends or acquaintances had blogs at that point......that I knew of anyway.  And of course, I wanted to let them know what I was up to, because......well......I wanted at least a few readers, followers and viewers. I wanted at least a little bit of feedback. Even though I'm comfortable with being an independent thinker, feedback really does help. There is always risk in putting oneself out there and I knew I ran the risk of making a fool of myself to varying degrees. Realizing that those I know and care about might not 'get' or understand whatever it was I planned to 'put out there' made me queasy, and for a few days pages I had already written stayed safely put, safely private, locked inside my computer. In the end, I followed my heart, my passion and my gut, and pushed that darn button.

I have to say now......a year out......that publishing This Friendly Village has been a great discipline. I have learned a lot. I've become quicker with the decision making, the thought process, the pictures and the posting.  I think I've become a better writer and photographer.  I have become more brave. 

The transition from one stage of my life (parenting) to another (an empty nest) was made easier when I gave myself permission to share. By committing to photographing, documenting and posting while exploring a few things I'm passionate about, I've been able to define what more I might do with my time......now that there is more time. To see, as I chose topics and subjects, what rose to the top. Should I have been doing this all along the way during the past 24 years? Maybe. I am definitely aware of how much I would have loved it if certain aspects of the Internet had been around when our boys were much younger. (Not to date myself...but I didn't discover blogs until a couple years ago.)

I've spent some time wondering if I have used my time in this space in the way I hoped I would. Did I find new things out about myself? Confirm what I have already known? Have I discovered new interests and met new people? Learned more about my relationship with my camera, keyboard and computer? With those I know and love? There have been a few dead ends for sure, but overall, the answer is 'yes'. And now that I've completed my first year, I'm looking  forward to the next.......few. It's made a difference in my life. I hope that in some small way it has made a difference in yours too, for we are all in whatever it is we're in.....together.

Warmly, Margaret

Connect/Reconnect

This weekend I was able to reconnect with a group of women I went to college with.  I keep in touch with three or four of them regularly. There are a few with whom the connection is made only during the holiday season or when I unexpectedly run into them out and about. There are those that, since our paths just don’t seem to cross, only a planned gathering such as this brings us together.  

When it’s time, about every year or two, word ripples out. Each of us keeps in touch with a slightly different combination of those who we all know, and so the natural planners or the keepers of the email list send out an invite along with the request to ‘pass it on’. I love that I’m not quite sure just who will show up. That there are both women I know will be there and those I hope will be. That there are ones I didn't expect to see and have wondered about. That occasionally, unexpected bonds are strengthened; deeper connections forged.

I wonder if any of us could have foreseen regular gatherings like this so many years ago. If there was a  passing thought way back when that spending four years in the same space would have us continuing to meet up this many years later. We’re not all the same age and each one of us moved in and out of that time differently. The paths our lives have taken are unique, collectively however, we have a piece of shared history. Something in common. Experiences that anchor.

The evening was warm and vibrant and noisy: Laughter and the inevitable retelling of old tales co-mingled with the significant stuff of thirty-five years of living. There were surprise endings to some of the stories, but nothing new involving the intelligence, grace, humor and strength of each individual. I could have told you that way back when.

Unfinished

I have to say that the first time someone told me I just had to make an unfinished church, La Sagrada Familia, be the one thing I saw above all other offerings in Barcelona, I was skeptical. Construction on it began in 1882 and is projected to wrap up in 2026. I couldn't imagine any modern day project that would take 144 years to complete and what it might look like at this point, so I'm embarrassed to admit that when I spent a day there a few years ago, I chose to go on a bike ride instead. Oh, I had heard about La Sagrada Familia and read about it in guide books, but at that point I knew that monasteries, shrines, churches, basilicas, cathedrals and the Vatican were in the plans for the next couple of weeks and I didn't want to tire of them, so I chose another way to spend the day. Besides, Barcelona appeared to be an easy and fun city to get around in on two wheels, so that's what we did......and it was. 

Before I went back again this fall, I asked a couple of friends if they could only do one thing in Barcelona what that would be, and both said without hesitation, 'a visit to La Sagrada Familia'. That one could visit several times and still not see enough; get as much out of it as it has to offer. So on my last birthday that is how I spent a memorable day. It is impossible to describe the enormity in scale, beauty and inspiration I found there. The sheer planning, thought and attention to detail, illumination, symbolism and story. It was an overwhelming and awe-filled experience and something that often crosses my mind still. And the one reason I was skeptical about spending time there became the one important thing that stuck with me: The fact that it is unfinished is an inspiration rather than a distraction. The realization that someone had enough confidence and belief to begin a project such as this. That he possessed the understanding, acceptance and trust necessary to work on something that surely would not be completed during his lifetime.

Recently I spent time going through photos from that day, hoping to find three or four to use for this post.  I remembered that I had an assortment that showed natural light streaming through windows or colored light resting on objects after traveling through stained glass. I considered that some of those might work well to illustrate spring or the Easter season......or the fact that I'm hoping for some really good long days of sunshine in the near future.  But as I sifted through, the ones that attracted me most were ones that showed building. Ones that included scaffolding and wires and protective draping as evidence of the construction that has gone on for 129 years and will continue for an estimated fifteen more. Ones that demonstrate and confirm growth. That illustrate that something can be breathtakingly wonderful......even whole......during its infant, adolescent and middle years. That sometimes, many times, in a project or in our lives we tend to worry and think too much about the finished piece and neglect to appreciate and pay attention to the beauty and the strength available during its building.

A Few Pictures From Boston



The Granary Burying Ground where Paul Revere, Samuel Adams and John Hancock are buried. One grave simply said "Frank, Servant to John Hancock Esq lies interr'd here". Another, which visitors had placed pennies on the dirt in front of, was supposedly the grave of the original Mother Goose .







The Frog Pond



Detail from Paul Revere House, built in 1680



The kindest man. He stopped us on the street to let us know what was important to see in his neighborhood, The North End.



My favorite person to travel with.

Things I loved about our few days in Boston...a city I hadn't been to before:

The very old pressed right up against the very new. The food. The friendly people who knew everything about their city and wanted to share it with us. Watching sailboats and sculls practice on the river. That almost everywhere I turned some piece of history, art, literature or culture was referenced. Cobblestone and brick roads and walkways. Walking around the North End in the evening while it was snowing. The college students in the coffee shops. That you can follow the Freedom Trail by a red brick line in the sidewalk. Making mental notes about what we will do next time. That I think I could be in that city for a year and not run out of new things to do or photograph.

One thing I noticed is that there are sculptures everywhere that commemorate almost anything you could imagine. My favorites were George Washington on his horse, Benjamin Franklin, the frogs at The Frog Pond and the Make Way For Ducklings ducks. I also loved The Ether Monument, which commemorates....yes...the first use of  general anesthesia during surgery. And it is huge. And ornate.

Hope you have a wonderful week!

 Margaret

What Makes Us Who We Are....Part Two.....

Marc contacted Cimego's Minister of Culture before we arrived so we could make the most of our time there....who by the way shares his family name of Bertini. How fortunate that he could spend part of an evening and several hours the next day with us, even though he now lives and works a few hours away. He told us about the village he grew up in and filled Marc in on some probable relatives still in the area. We were invited to a town council meeting that night, but were too exhausted and hungry to go. Although we had to point and guess a little, we successfully ordered wine and scotch in the bar, but thank goodness our guide showed up in time to help interpret the menu. He spoke perfect English, sat with us at dinner and encouraged Marc's questions about history and food and customs.

The following day we wandered the village and spent quite a bit of time looking through a house that was kept as a museum, probably much the same as the one his great grandparents would have lived in. Afterward, we visited the home of the town's last remaining blacksmith. He had passed just a month earlier and both lived and worked there with his sole source of power harnessed from a stream with a water wheel. On a short hike in the surrounding woods we walked through an area that was part of the Italian front during WWI and spent a few minutes inside a bunker.  Strange how, surrounded by the fall foliage, it felt so similar to places we hike at home. I couldn't help but think about the people who were once there......are there now......and how different and not so different our world's are.

 Cimego is the lower village. The upper group of buildings is a separate village.

   

 Church door

Period tool

Blacksmith's home

The woods above Cimego.