Tag Archives: peace



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Imminent- about to happen, close at hand, forthcoming, in the offing, on the horizon, expected, anticipated, looming…

It’s like waiting for the wedding to begin.  Everyone is giddy with excitement and suspense.  Or waiting for a baby to be born where there’s a conglomeration of anxiety, longing, and hopefulness.

We spend so much time in our lives waiting for something to happen.  My friend, Tom, calls it “waiting energy”.  We wait for the clothes to be dry, for the turkey to be done, for the pudding to set, for the tomato plant to produce for us a bumper crop of sweet fruit.  We wait for someone to “pop the question”.

We wait for the mail to come, for a phone call from a significant other, for the car to warm up, for our guests to arrive, for the guy from Home Depot to deliver the new refrigerator. We wait for the test results, for some good news, for a loved one to pass away from their pain and suffering into relief and peace.

And then we wait for our grieving to end.

I’ve been waiting all summer for my townhouse to be finished.  But it’s really not about the townhouse.

It’s about me.

What is it about “waiting energy” that zaps our lives and renders us immobile, unproductive and frozen in time and space? Why can’t we stop waiting for something to happen and just start living our lives in whatever space we dwell in.

Physical space.  Psychological space. Spiritual space.  Inner space.  Outer space.

What have you put your life on hold for- and why?






When you have a garden you have a Future and when you have a Future, you are Alive. ~ Frances Hodgson Burnett

When you have a garden you have a Future and when you have a Future, you are Alive. ~ Frances Hodgson Burnett

I’m caving.

I’ve been so very strong about selling my house, downsizing, entering a new chapter of my life, blah blah blah…

This morning I worked in my garden.  The wisteria and the jasmine are in full bloom.   There are birds hanging on to branches everywhere and Ethel is stalking a very naive squirrel.  I’m pulling weeds and pruning roses and raking the gravel in the paths.  There are pots of flowers and window boxes that need watering.  I give St. Francis a little cleansing shower as he stands at his post, keeping peace among the wildlife.

I know I should start dis-assembling things in my home.  I need to start packing and getting my head around it all.  But this morning in the garden I am mourning.  Everything is in utter bloom as if to say in the sweetest way they know- goodbye.  And thank you.

Thank you for releasing lady bugs and dousing us with homemade compost.  Thank you for knowing what is a weed and what is a wildflower lest we all get pulled in haste.  Thank you for the great music you play when you are here with us bending and lifting and pulling and gently watering.

And I want to say in return…  Thank you for being there for me when I was stressed or anxious and nothing would sooth me except being outside with you.  And thank you for the beautiful canvas you created for all the great parties we’ve had here.  For my sons’ graduations from high school.  For our annual birthday theme parties.  For engagement parties and wedding showers and the random get togethers with friends and family.  For quiet meditation when I couldn’t sleep at night.

You’ve brought me such peace and tranquility.

And hundreds of plums!  Oh Lordy!  Not to mention all the birds, squirrels, raccoons and random neighborhood cats who came to enjoy your beauty.

I will have another garden.  As much as I bitch and moan about dragging around 20 pound bags of mulch and throwing out my back hoeing stubborn weeds rather than spraying them with roundup, I would not be the woman I am today without you and your unconditional love, your fragrance and your dramatic seasonal whimsy.

You will be the last part of this house that I begin to pack.  Both literally and figuratively.

I will miss my home and its’ cheerful sunlit rooms.  But I will miss you more.


Weekend with my Bestie!

Weekend with my Bestie!

Yes, that’s me on the left and Patty, on the right.  We’ve been best friends since we were 14 years old but that’s not the entire story.

There have been ebbs and flows to our friendship.  Not unlike any other relationship that is worth its’ salt.

We met in San Luis Obispo this weekend and reconnected after more than a year of silence, misunderstanding and stubborn angst.  (Oh, you know what that’s like, do you?)  Two women collecting evidence of a misdeed, a miscommunication, a missed opportunity, misconstrued intentions and somethings amiss.

We declared amnesty and bilateral disarmament. We raised the white flag of surrender and caught up on our children, our husbands and lovers and lives and decided that life was too short to continue the war.  Amen.

And then we went shopping.

Our friendship has spanned the test of time. We were maids of honor in each others’ weddings and we sat waiting at the hospital during the labor and deliveries of each others’ first born sons.  I lost my parents to cancer.  Her daughter had a brain tumor.  I went through a divorce.  Her husband’s business folded.   You don’t throw that kind of loyalty away on a whim or an argument or a temper tantrum.

I thought perhaps we had just gone our separate ways.  We were different.  If we had met now at our ripe old ages of fifty-something who knows if we would ever have become such fast friends.  I consoled myself with thoughts of  “Life goes on” and  “Que sera sera” and  “I have other women friends”.

But as soon as I saw her walking down Monterey Street waving her arms to get my attention and opening them up to grab me in a huge hug I knew there was no one like her.  She is my oldest bestest friend.  She is the olive oil on my bread.  She is the salt on the rim of my margarita glass.  She is the person in my life who understands me best.  And I her.  She is the closest thing to a sister that I will ever have.  We’re in this crazy world together through thick and thin.

And there is no doubt in my mind that we will be besties forever.

Patty and Rosemarie @ 19 years old