Tag Archives: love

The Kiss

There’s been a lot of internet chatter about this video  of “strangers” kissing.  It’s sparked some conversation – about first kisses, the remarkable beauty of the strangers, and about being manipulated, yet again, by a clever marketing strategy.  I haven’t watched the video yet and don’t know if I ever will. I can be resistant, at times, to things which go viral.  I’m really not much of a follower.  But I do like kissing.

I started thinking about what makes a great kiss…

Is it the anticipation finally being realized?  His hand perhaps cupping your chin or tangled in your hair?  Maybe it’s finding the perfect balance between lips and tongue – not too soft, not too firm, and not too wet.

When I reflect on what I believe to have been the most meaningful kiss of my life, what made it an absolute standout in my (somewhat) personal history wasn’t the fact that it absolutely took my breath away.  No, while that did occur, it wasn’t the most awe-inspiring part of that enchanted event.  What ultimately overwhelmed me was the sense of finally, after seemingly years of holding my breath, feeling myself exhale.  Magical.  Organic.   Tender.  Unforgettable.

2 Comments

Filed under love, musings, News

Giving up

You may not know this, but both of my parents came from large Catholic families.  Is that redundant?  I actually have an aunt and two deceased great aunts, who became nuns, for real.  I grew up hearing about how my mother’s family went to morning mass every day, staying for a marathon mass on Sundays.  It was kind of our family’s version of “I walked to school, uphill and in the snow…”  You get it.

Believe it or not, my mother somehow managed to have her two illegitimate children baptized in the mid-60s.  I can’t imagine that was an easy task.  Growing up, my brother and I made Holy Communion, but did not, other than on Christmas Eve, attend mass with our mother.  She was done.  I remember the challenge of being still and quiet for an hour, while outside the stained glass window summer’s blue sky beckoned.  It was harder than those wooden pews.  As I grew older, I developed more of an appreciation for the ritual – the readings, the up, down, kneel, the music and faces which grew familiar over the years.  And the sooty smoke wafting from those brass orbs dangling from the altar boys’ hands?  I loved it

Eventually, though, I really started listening to gospel, to the word, and some of what I heard I didn’t like.  I was in disagreement about gays and euthanasia and punishment for mistakes made.  I pictured a more benevolent god, sort of a cross between George Burns and John Denver.  I met with a priest at the Cathedral downtown and we talked and I explained my inability to own only part of my religion.  If I couldn’t believe in the whole thing, how could I practice?  Wasn’t it wrong to turn a blind eye to the tenets I found it impossible to embrace?  He echoed what I had been previously told by my Uncle Eamon, “Take what you believe in and leave off the rest.”  I walked away, sad, but committed to no longer feeling partially invested.  I left all of it.

On days, though, like today, I miss it.  The crossed ashes on my forehead, the quiet of the altar and the echo of feet on the stone floors, the honor of sacrifice… I think I’m going to mark Lent this year by exploring churches, be they literal or figurative.  A cathedral, a ski slope, a path through the woods, can’t they all be considered churches?  I’m hoping to hit each of those places within the next 40 days.  If you see me at any of those places, be sure to say hello.  Just don’t ask me join you for Burger Night at the Capital City Gastropub.  I gave up meat.

1 Comment

Filed under aging, family, Germany, girlhood, holidays, Irish, musings

My love affair with Winter

Valentine’s Day seems the perfect time to express my adoration for Winter.  In all honesty, it’s a love I never imagined experiencing.  Winter was always the cruelest of seasons, I thought.  Endlessly long, yet filled with days which offered mere hours of daylight.  Cold in a way that kept one indoors, in isolation.  Yuck.

Our relationship was purely platonic at the start.  It was a casual thing for many years, sort of a “friends with benefits situation.”  If I had a little extra timphoto 2(4)e, I could maybe work in an hour outdoors on my cross-country skis.  Many people have a summer romance, but we had a winter fling. Winter certainly wasn’t something I was willing to build a life around. It was more a matter of convenience, a circumstance I’d be remiss to replicate in my romantic life, yet acceptable for a relationship physical in nature.

During the snowy years, we got a little more serious with each other and I found myself keeping my skis in my car “just in case.” I explored Capital Hills, familiarizing myself with the various trails, learning which spots tended to get icy and which direction to ski to witness the often stellar winter sunsets.  I bought better cold weather gear and, repulsed by the false consistency of the treadmill, committed to running outdoors year round.

Winter challenged me and I responded with enthusiasm and devotion.  Downhill skiing beckoned and I fell even deeper in love.  The combination of adrenaline, fresh air and sunshine was intoxicating.  Winter was no longer something to be survived, it became a season to savor.  I realized recently that Winter has become my favorite season and I no longer wish it away as I may have in the past.
photo 1(4)
Sometimes we find love in the most unexpected places.  Recognizing it, and embracing it with grace, makes our time here, and our hearts, feel remarkably full.  Happy Valentine’s Day.

1 Comment

Filed under beauty, Exercise, favorites, holidays, Local, love, Normanskill, running, skiing, snow, upstate New York, winter, x-country skiing

Preparing to die

To begin, a couple of childhood flashbacks…

The first time I entered the woods with the boys who have grown to be my dearest male friends, I was convinced they were going to hurt me.  It probably says something about the girl I was that I followed them to their forest fort, despite my certainty that I was about to become a victim.

A number of years after that dusky fall afternoon, on a bright summer day, the home I had known the longest was lost, along with nearly all of my belongings, to fire.  I remember finding irony in the fact that the only clothing that survived the catastrophe were the items I had in my car for a laundromat run.  The things I had worn and soiled were saved, while articles of clothing which had been relegated to my closet, perhaps for a “special” occasion, fell in ashes from their hangers.

During a recent solo afternoon ski, I encountered another skier, a male.  We were in a secluded spot on the course, near the Normanskill, yet I never once felt threatened or in danger. I no longer imagined that someone I didn’t know wanted to bring me harm.

After the fire, I no longer reserved items for only “special” events.  Expensive crystal stemware was used – and broken.  My “good” clothes were worn and enjoyed.  Discarding an item because of a stain, or an irreparable hole, was far more satisfying than seeing an unworn cherished possession turned into a pile of soot and ash.

What does all of this have to do with dying?  It seems to me that there are people who spend so much energy thinking about bad things which might happen, that they fall victim to the ultimate tragedy – missing out on their life.  When we try to anticipate every potential disaster instead of appreciating the wonder that is now, we neglect to experience all the beautiful moments life offers to us each day.

Make no mistake, the thought of my life ending chills me.  There’s still so much I want to see and do and taste and feel!  Any acceptance of death that I may have comes purely from living fully.  What I’m trying to say is this – the only way I know how to prepare for the ultimate end of my life is to live each and every day. Donna Tartt expressed it far better than I. Here, read it:

“That life – whatever else it is – is short.  That fate is cruel but maybe not random.  That nature (meaning Death) always wins but that doesn’t mean we have to bow and grovel to it.  That maybe even if we’re not always so glad to be here, it’s our task to immerse ourselves anyway: wade straight through it, right through the cesspool, while keeping eyes and hearts open.”

What she said.

2 Comments

Filed under aging, musings

Broken fragments and glue

“I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken, and I’d rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken pieces as long as I lived.”  Margaret Mitchell

 

If you’re lucky, and like me, you’ve been in love more than once in your lifetime. Which means, of course, that you’ve probably had your heartbroken.  Maybe more than once. Perhaps even multiple times by the same person, but obviously, I’m projecting my own history here.  It’s my blog.

Do you remember that first heartbreak?  I’ll never forget being certain that I was going to die.  It just didn’t seem possible that I could survive the fierce assault to my heart and soul.  I couldn’t eat.  Or sleep.  I replayed all the moments leading up to the big brush off, trying to place my finger on the precise instant when things went wrong.  I thought that if I could identify what happened, I would be able to prevent myself from experiencing this emotional and physical anguish ever again.  Yeah, right.

Since that time, more than 25 years ago, I’ve learned a few things.  Important lessons about hearts and love and the ability of a heart to love again.  I now understand that there are people who enter our lives (and hearts) as temporary residents.  Not everything is supposed to last forever.  Pieces get taken.  And given.

I’ve realized that the people who have broken my heart have given me far more than they ever took.  I learned that the capacity to love is something to be treasured, a gift beyond any other.  I believe that the heart is one of the few things which can be rebuilt from pieces and be stronger than ever.

1 Comment

Filed under aging, love, musings, Observations, relationships

Explorations and discoveries

image; s1.cdn.happinessxing.com

In the last few years, my perspective has changed dramatically.  Once upon a time, I believed that all my decisions had been made and the future held only more stagnation.  It was like I was a participant in some organized game with the only object being to “land” on particular spaces in a mostly consistent order. You know, college – travel – meet – marry – have beautiful babies – focus all attention and assets on the growing children – feel alone in the chaos – stay quiet and still.

Once that game ended, I could have easily been cast adrift, but I’m not really a rudderless kind of woman.  Instead, I’ve been discovering parts of myself I didn’t know existed.  Life has changed so much!  I’ve been challenging myself physically and have felt myself being pushed creatively and professionally like never before.  I feel alive every day.

The comforts of yesterday have been knocked off my personal map by new waves of inspiration and excitement and I no longer wake up and wonder what’s on the other side of the ocean. Instead, I look around and see the sky, the sun, the moon, the light, the clouds…all sorts of things which compel me to want to look closer and explore.

I can’t speak for Columbus, but, for me, it is definitely about the journey.

Leave a comment

Filed under aging, holidays, love, marriage, musings

A little autumnal inspiration…

DSC_0025From Louise Erdich:

“Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.”

- The Painted Drum

Go eat some apples – now.

Leave a comment

Filed under beauty, Books, favorites, love, musings, Random, relationships