First Test

The first test of my new resolve has come in the form of conquering a possible job loss. What's new in the world, right? Well, how does one practice stilling the soul upon return to such turmoil? I'm not sure but here's my plan:

My pattern over the past three years would have been to shake my fist to the heavens and blame Mike. But now that my new way is all about action, I am taking the Bull by the Horns.

1. Renegotiate school loans --payments start the end of December!
2. Update online job applications with various search engines
3. Breath
4. Count blessings: health, wisdom, family, friends, sunshine, future, everything changes
5. Ask for help: part-time, full-time, whatever will work

So at present I could work for room and board in Italy by picking olives, till about the middle of February. The only trouble is I don't think my loan companies will accept olive oil as payment.

Do I have any higher bidders? All offers are being considered.

This is who I was.....This is who I will be.....

Billy Holiday's "Stormy Weather" is playing as I write this, which is perfectly appropriate for the weather we've been having.



This is who I was....

Phrases you will not hear from me any time soon (if ever again):
1. I’m exhausted.
2. I’m 33 going on 83.
3. I need a vacation.
4. My body aches.
5. I’d like to but I can’t; I’m in law school.

Coming home with a very clean slate, an uncluttered mind and soul, the new trick will be how to maintain this new body and mind while not in vacation mode. For example, part of my new routine this past week has become reading the NYTimes for 2 hours in bed with coffee. Probably not one of the new routines I can keep and get away with, unless I can convince my boss to make it a job requirement to read the daily news (that would be a test of my negotiation skills!) But maybe I treat myself to just 3 articles over coffee everyday and give myself the two hour treat on Sunday.

I think the more difficult part will be creating a routine that involves others. I have just had a wonderful taste of what it feels like to do what ever I want, whenever I want. This is a slight exaggeration because you definitely have to plan your trips to the market around here, because when you run out of cream for your coffee, your trip revolves around their hours. The closest market, about 3 Km, is open in the morning on Mondays and Tuesdays, but not Wednesdays (found that out the hard way), and then evenings on Thursdays and Fridays, but usually by then it is too dark to ride the bike and still be seen by the Mario Andrettis of this neighborhood.

I’ve grown accustomed to this great freedom of availability that I think is almost impossible to maintain in our overly scheduled world. But I have new energy for the challenge. I used to love the spontaneity that Mike and I had in our life together and I realize now that a lot of that came from his being unattached to anything – job, material goods, home, etc. I know that he enjoyed this freedom as a coping mechanism to balance his fear of life ending too soon, and that aspect of the spontaneity was not fun, for either of us. I think I can have this sense of freedom without the fear, and that is what I will strive for on my return.

I know some of you are thinking, “Good goal Becca; good luck with that.” Don’t worry, a side of me is saying the same thing, which is why I am going to ask for your help! Yup, I know, nervy huh? (“For Christ’s sake, you come back from a 3 month Sabbatical and ask ME for help?! That’s rich.”)

Here’s my request for assistance:
1. test my ability to be spontaneous, last minute invitations (to work or play) will be greatly appreciated
2. test my ability to say, “no thank you;” and don’t take offense when I practice on you. I have discovered the more I say, “no, thank you,” the more available I am to say, “yes.”
3. test my ability to not acquire STUFF. I have gotten by with very little in Italy; I would like to keep my life this way. There’s a lot of uncluttering I need to do with my home so that it matches my uncluttered self; please help remind me of this when I contemplate purchasing or acquiring something. Whatever you do, please do not purchase for me! (I do need to get a new cellphone service when I return but this is the only exception –and honestly I could do without it if my boss didn’t need to reach me.)

Thank you.

This is who I will be.....with your help.

Stilling the Typing

It’s not always comical when the universe forces a stilling on your soul, but when you have the leisure time to accept the carpel tunnel that creeps up on you when you’re trying to write, you can laugh about it and take a week off to recover.

This would never be allowed if I had someone depending on my project. This was the mindset I had when the shooting pains in my wrists started to creep up on me (a bi-product of taking the Bar Exam this summer –I am positive.) In my old life I would have bitched and bemoaned my body for giving up on me, and I would have worked through the pain, determined to have my way. I have developed a completely different mind while in Tuscany.

After half a day of fighting my old mindset, I up and left for a long bike ride through the changing vineyards. Renewed and refreshed, with a new sense of awe, I turned my attention to reading and biking and cooking, till my eyes and leg muscles burned like my wrists. Here are the photos I took along the way.

Action-Adventures in Living

The significance of this "trip": vacation, sabbatical, working holiday, etc. But the most important reason has become: not just reminding myself of my capabilities to adventure, but to actually show myself I still can. Action. A critical element to a widow’s recovery. Here is one giant I have undertaken recently.

I am typing my 2005-2008 journals into my computer and then I am going to ceremoniously burn the hard copies in an attempt to unclutter my life, both figuratively and physically. Why don’t I just skip the preserving into the computer and go straight to the burning? Yes, that would definitely be the more Buddhist way of unattaching, but I am a practicing Buddhist; I haven’t got it right yet. It has been an unbelievably transformative experience looking back at the past three years, on a day to day basis.

Here’s what I've learned:

In the early throws of loss-any loss- partner, job, identity, expectations, taking action is almost impossible. Actions are happening all around you, and the best you can do is go with the flow, be flexible, try to be present.

The next step is to take some small actions, nothing big, nothing too important that you might regret it later, but some actions none the less. Progressively these actions take on a little more risk, leaving you a little more vulnerable every time, but, presumably, you are a little stronger at this point, and falling down will not hurt quite so much.

To fully make your way back into the world, you must then take some leaps of faith! Such as a 3 month sabbatical, with your tens of thousands of dollars worth of debt, as the US economy crashes.

As my Buddhist Offering book says on my birthday: “Have the courage to throw yourself into life, take risks, weather blows. Knowing before you begin that you will be exposed to a series of opposites; success and failure, happiness and unhappiness, praise and blame.”

Writing in Camucia

I know it’s been awhile and I apologize for that. Here’s my excuse: I’ve been writing. And crying, and laughing, and writing some more. This week has been my first great work week, writing about 4-8 pages a day. I have a great working outline, and a lot of notes I have taken from interviews with family and friends. Before writing, I took a lot of time creating a timeline which helped me visualize the chapters in our life together and what stories needed to be told. I also reread a lot of material about Huntington’s that I had not read in years, stuff like, Alice Wexler’s “Mapping Fate,” and all of Nancy Wexler’s scientific writings about testing for the gene and the psychology behind being at-risk. [The Wexler family created the Hereditary Disease Foundation www.hdfoundation.org] This was the easy part.

Now I wake up, make my coffee, and pick a topic. Sometimes the topic picks me (I like to believe that Mike picks the topic when this happens.) I write till I have nothing left and then I go for a bike ride through the vineyards and the olive groves. By the time I get back I’m fairly wasted- physically and mentally.

The rest of the day is left to menial tasks—creating dinner, washing dishes, or putting Mike’s written journals into the computer, which can be more of a heady task than I realize, till I’m doing it. The last few days I have felt a little more ambitious, and at night I have added watching Mike’s video from the mountain to my writing preparation list. I was afraid of doing this, and at the same time felt a compulsion to be engrossed in my subject matter.

It has been easy to write about meeting Mike, and his family, and the adventures we’ve had together; I am laughing out loud most of the time as I fully feel Mike choosing the words for me. (“Don’t use the word ‘partner,’ I’ll sound gay.”) There’s this strange, quiet conversation going on around me; it doesn’t always contain words, sometimes sensations that come as I am writing. One example was the cigar smoke as I wrote about our trip to Havana. It has been less easy to think about the ending, which is a little crazy because that part is already written. In a nut shell, I write a “chapter” or topic, and then I try to add Mike’s writing/version at the end of that chapter. Needless to say, there has already been a lot written about the ending.

I have no idea if this will amount to anything for anyone else. I’ve outlined my process for you but I have no idea if that’s the way it’s supposed to be done. When I told my mom that I had sent a first draft to Lizzi and it was forty-some pages, she asked, “how many are you striving for?” I don’t know. How many is it supposed to have? I guess as many as it takes or until I run out, or until this “trip” is over! Three more weeks. Totally doable.

PS- I’m making dinner for the lovely CA couple who live above me in this beautiful place and I am making chocolate mousse for dessert. I am whipping the whole thing, whipped cream included, by hand. This is a true exercise in stilling the soul and becoming a hunchback. I can hear Cortona’s church bells in the background, and the roosters next door.

The Day After the Election –Final Reflections

I thought you might be interested in what some Italians said to me (REPEATEDLY in different fashions) in the streets and the pub just before, during, and immediately after our election:

“It’s really great that Obama will be your president; we all need him; we all need change.”

“You know it says a lot that you elect him, not about him, but about Americans.”

“I don’t know how you voted for Bush a second time; you can’t make the mistake a 3^rd time!?!????” –This last one was said with pleading eyes, searching for agreement, and unfortunately I could give him no reassurance as I was losing my hope as the election results trickled in. You see, I’m Irish, or at least half (the better half as my mother likes to say,) and although we are dreamers and believers, when the time comes, we pray for the best while expecting the worst.

I was in Florence, in a B&B that had no TV and no internet connection. So at midnight I wandered over to the Irish pub with my laptop (they had Wi-Fi) and watched their CNN with a bunch of university students from all over the world. My Microsoft cousin and I were pinging back and forth till 2am, she was watching NBC, I was getting results from CNN, CBS, and Fox (I know but I had to –the Irishside wanted to see the worst case scenario.) So at 2am they closed the pub and I had no news except McCain had won KY and WV and Obama VT. VT!!!!!??????? That was hardly going to do it. So I went to bed and hoped for the best but expected the worst.

When I awoke the sun was shining; it hadn’t shown for 6 days but rather had been cold and wet, reminding me of home. Home seemed so far away at that moment; all the world knew and I knew nothing. The election had gone on without me. With my face to the sun, the Irish-me said, “Oh please, dear God, shining the sun will not be enough to soften the blow.” I wandered over to the pub and shocked the bartender, who must have thought I needed a straight jacket, as I stood in front of the TV staring, mesmerized, laughing, and then crying. Strange American Girl.

I had a professor in college who said my generation would never amount to anything because we had not had a great national tragedy in our lives to respond to like he had with Vietnam. Out of his Vietnam tragedy came great poets, musicians, and artists; because it takes great tragedy to bring about new movements, at least this was his theory. Well, September 11 was my generation’s great tragedy or so I had thought. But out of that single event came many more tragedies rather than a great new movement. Pick your tragedy: war in Afghanistan, war in Iraq, reputation around the world, economy, class warfare, the war on civil rights, etc—any one of these could have started a new movement. But they didn’t, it took the collection of them, not any one event or tipping point to start this new movement, and like a dear friend of mine has reminded me, the election is just one step in the movement of my generation. It will take a collection of events to make this a movement worthy of great poetry, music, and art.

In tribute to my professor’s theory, I have included the lyrics and the link to a song by Scottish musician, Sandi Thom, from her album “Smile…It Confuses People” (and it really does-I do it all the time!) She’s no Bob Dylan but we’re young, the best is yet to come!

“I wish I were a Punk Rocker”

Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair
In seventy-seven and sixty-nine revolution was in the air
I was born too late into a world that doesn't care
Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair

When the head of state didn't play guitar
Not everybody drove a car
When music really mattered and when radio was king
When accountants didn't have control
And the media couldn't buy your soul
And computers were still scary and we didn't know everything

Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair
In seventy-seven and sixty-nine revolution was in the air
I was born too late into a world that doesn't care
Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair

When pop stars still remained a myth
And ignorance could still be bliss
And when god saved the queen she turned a whiter shade of pale
My mom and dad were in their teens
And anarchy was still a dream
And the only way to stay in touch was a letter in the mail

Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair
In seventy-seven and sixty-nine revolution was in the air
I was born too late into a world that doesn't care
Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair

When record shops were still on top
And vinyl was all that they stocked
And the super info highway was still drifting out in space
Kids were wearing hand me downs
And playing games meant kick arounds
And footballers still had long hair and dirt across their face

Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair
In seventy-seven and sixty-nine revolution was in the air
I was born too late into a world that doesn't care
Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair
I was born too late into a world that doesn't care
Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair

If I had children today

I just watched Obama take his daughters to the voting booth and I thought about how significant this day is for them. Their dad’s name is on the ballot; how cool is that?! Yet, they will never know exactly how monumental today is to the rest of the world.

I don’t have children to share the importance of what today means but if I had daughters right now I would tell them this:

Today is a once in a lifetime day for me, but I hope the beginning of many “once and a lifetime” events for you and future generations. Today we elect a president who’s a mediator. A mediator is someone who brings parties together, not to compromise, but to collaborate; a mediator gives hope to parties who believe a solution is impossible; and a mediator reminds us that we can respectfully disagree and still work together. Today we elect a strong, intelligent and peaceful, young man who strongly believes in our nation’s constitution and rule of law. Today we elect a leader who believes in transparency, tolerance, and hope, three elements crucial to being a leader and a fair human being. Today, in choosing this “first family,” we show the world our diversity, respect, and admiration for all humanity that our country has finally evolved to.

Today we put a great deal of faith in a man who has reminded us that we, as individuals, must participate in our own success. And we do this because he has promised to lead in a manner that will put our collective resources to their greatest use. This is what an effective leader does. After the September 11 attacks and the Afghani War that followed, many Americans (and other countries) had a collective desire to help rebuild America, but we were never given a direction and there was no leadership. Many groups tried to do it on their own, but government and leadership are crucial to making such work successful. This is the hope and expectation I have for the Obama administration and the commitment I will make to my country in my own life’s work.

Americans are not afraid of hard work and with the right leadership and encouragement, Americans can do great things. It is my greatest hope for you and me and all mankind that an Obama administration will live up to its promises of making this country not the red or the blue states, democrats or republicans, but rather the United States of America. Today I elected Obama for me, you, America, and the whole wide world.