Take it!

I've spent way too long throwing away my shot.  

I am not throwing away my shot
I am not throwing away my shot
Hey yo, I’m just like my country
I’m young, scrappy and hungry
And I’m not throwing away my shot
I’m ‘a get a scholarship to King’s College
I prob’ly shouldn’t brag, but dag, I amaze and astonish
The problem is I got a lot of brains but no polish
I gotta holler just to be heard
With every word, I drop knowledge
I’m a diamond in the rough, a shiny piece of coal
Tryin’ to reach my goal my power of speech, unimpeachable
Only nineteen but my mind is older
These New York City streets get colder, I shoulder
Every burden, every disadvantage
I have learned to manage, I don’t have a gun to brandish
I walk these streets famished
The plan is to fan this spark into a flame
But damn, it’s getting dark, so let me spell out the name
I am the A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R we are meant to be

A colony that runs independently
Meanwhile, Britain keeps shittin’ on us endlessly
Essentially, they tax us relentlessly
Then King George turns around, runs a spending spree
He ain’t ever gonna set his descendants free
So there will be a revolution in this century
Enter me, he says in parentheses

Don’t be shocked when your hist’ry book mentions me
I will lay down my life if it sets us free
Eventually, you’ll see my ascendancy

And I am not throwing away my shot
I am not throwing away my shot
Hey yo, I’m just like my country
I’m young, scrappy and hungry
And I’m not throwing away my shot

I am not throwing away my shot
I am not throwing away my shot
Hey yo, I’m just like my country
I’m young, scrappy and hungry
And I’m not throwing away my shot
It’s time to take a shot

I dream of life without a monarchy
The unrest in France will lead to onarchy?
Onarchy how you say, how you say, anarchy?
When I fight, I make the other side panicky
With my, shot

Yo, I’m a tailor’s apprentice
And I got y’all knuckleheads in loco parentis
I’m joining the rebellion 'cause I know it’s my chance
To socially advance, instead of sewin’ some pants
I’m gonna take a shot

But we’ll never be truly free
Until those in bondage have the same rights as you and me
You and I. Do or die. Wait till I sally in
On a stallion with the first black battalion
Have another shot

Geniuses, lower your voices
You keep out of trouble and you double your choices
I’m with you, but the situation is fraught
You’ve got to be carefully taught
If you talk, you’re gonna get shot

Burr, check what we got
Mister Lafayette, hard rock like Lancelot
I think your pants look hot
Laurens, I like you a lot
Let’s hatch a plot blacker than the kettle callin’ the pot
What are the odds the gods would put us all in one spot
Poppin’ a squat on conventional wisdom, like it or not
A bunch of revolutionary manumission abolitionists?
Give me a position, show me where the ammunition is

Oh, am I talkin’ too loud?
Sometimes I get over excited, shoot off at the mouth
I never had a group of friends before
I promise that I’ll make y’all proud

Let’s get this guy in front of a crowd

I am not throwing away my shot
I am not throwing away my shot
Hey yo, I’m just like my country
I’m young, scrappy and hungry
And I’m not throwing away my shot

I am not throwing away my shot
I am not throwing away my shot
Hey yo, I’m just like my country
I’m young, scrappy and hungry
And I’m not throwing away my shot

Everybody sing
Whoa, whoa, whoa
Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa
Ay, let ‘em hear ya

Let’s go

Whoa, whoa, whoa I said shout it to the rooftops
Whoa, whoa, whoa said, to the rooftops
Whoa, whoa, whoa come on

Come on, let’s go
Rise up
When you’re living on your knees, you rise up
Tell your brother that he’s gotta rise up
Tell your sister that she's gotta rise up

When are these colonies gonna rise up?
When are these colonies gonna rise up?
When are these colonies gonna rise up?
When are these colonies gonna rise up?

Rise up
I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory
When’s it gonna get me?
In my sleep, seven feet ahead of me?
If I see it comin’, do I run or do I let it be?
Is it like a beat without a melody?
See, I never thought I’d live past twenty
Where I come from some get half as many
Ask anybody why we livin’ fast and we laugh, reach for a flask
We have to make this moment last, that’s plenty

Scratch that this is not a moment, it’s the movement
Where all the hungriest brothers with something to prove went?
Foes oppose us, we take an honest stand
We roll like Moses, claimin’ our promised land
And? If we win our independence?
‘Zat a guarantee of freedom for our descendants?
Or will the blood we shed begin an endless cycle of vengeance and death with no defendants?
I know the action in the street is excitin'
But Jesus, between all the bleedin’ ‘n fightin’
I’ve been readin’ ‘n writin’
We need to handle our financial situation
Are we a nation of states what’s the state of our nation?
I’m past patiently waitin' I’m passionatelymashin’ every expectation
Every action’s an act of creation
I’m laughin' in the face of casualties and sorrow
For the first time, I’m thinkin’ past tomorrow

And I am not throwing away my shot
I am not throwing away my shot
Hey yo, I’m just like my country
I’m young, scrappy and hungry
And I’m not throwing away my shot

We’re gonna rise up (time to take a shot)
We’re gonna rise up (time to take a shot)
We’re gonna, rise up, rise up

It's time to take a shot
Rise up, rise up, it's time to take a shot
Rise up, it's time to take a shot
Rise up, take a shot, shot, shot
It's time to take a shot, time to take a shot
And I am not throwing away my shot
Not throwing away my shot

Songwriters: Lin-Manuel Miranda / Kejuan Waliek Muchita / Albert Johnson / Roger Troutman / Osten Harvey / Christopher Wallace

Weird wild wondrous

So many thoughts over the past 24+ hours about self-imposed & unintended limitations.

For reasons I've never understood, I come across as brash confident bold - - not needing protection or help. And like I am way more accomplished than I am. Years ago, someone hired me for a position that he knew required a high degree of math ability - in spite of my being up front in all interviews about having no affinity for numbers. He was so taken with my knowing a Chinese symbol on his desk meant "chaos" that all my warnings about my math flubbery went over his head; he took them as modesty. Of course, he was none too pleased when reality hit.  

Even when I tell people, "I don't know anything about....," they seem to feel like I do. I really don't. This has been seriously apparent recently, needing emotional help & practical support. But people seem to think I am joshing, that everything is just fine & I can figure it all out on my own.

That is in stark contrast to my sister.  Something about Mim reached right into people's hearts, making even strangers long to take her under their wing, to protect her, to give her the love care support she seemed to lack. 

Where I unintentionally give an accomplished vibe, instead of being very much a work in progress, Mim's appearance, soft voice & severely self-deprecating attitude gave a sense of helplessness. On discovering her remarkable mind, that she was a graduate of NYU, received her MSW from Rutgers, people were blown away with amazement. Intentionally or not, Mim followed a key rule of successful businesses ~ under-promise, over-deliver. I, alas, without knowing it, do the opposite.

Here's the thing - I do NOT want to end up like my sister. She was surrounded by people - friends & family - who admired loved cared about her. She couldn't see it. Like she was emotionally color blind. She rejected reality - what was apparent to many was impossible for her to see & above all FEEL.  I don't want to make a similar goof. 

If I need help - and I need it big time, right now - how do I ask in a way that registers with people? What I need right now isn't money - what is it? What is holding me back? Notice it, identify it, get over it. Stop putting one foot on the gas & the other on the brake.

I am never going to be Mim. It didn't work for her, it certainly won't work for me. I come across as confident, capable, accomplished? The solution to that is easy - start accomplishing things. Focus on the once & future wow by being fully connected in the astonishing now. 

It is essential to remember how people responded to Mim. Because a) she was never as alone as she appeared, b) it didn't matter what people did for her because it never seemed to register, c) it feels - and I may be wrong - like she might have died with her glorious song within her. Do NOT want that to happen to me!

So, am going to put on my big girl pants & accept that I am as I am. Which can, I understand, be confusing aggravating irksome. It is what it is. Find the help I need, connect with supportive hearts, believe in the JOY. In each present moment, be awake aware active. "Don't go back to sleep."  Be weird wild wondrous, but above all BE. 

Here's something freaky wonderful to consider. For years, I've loved Rumi's poem that starts, "The breeze at dawn..." I didn't know its opening four lines until JUST now, this moment, writing the end of my posting, looking it up to share.

For years, copying other people, I tried to know myself.
From within, I couldn’t decide what to do.
Unable to see, I heard my name being called.
Then I walked outside.

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don’t go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don’t go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the door sill
where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.

Don’t go back to sleep.

A quiet wow to the Universe for unveiling them when needed most!   No excuse to not put the pedal to the metal. Freaky, scary wonderful.

Step on it!

Is everyone's life as surreal as mine seems?  Most wondrous, all constructive.  Zooming over the past four years into utter wowness, on the edge of "You have got to be kidding me!" with all sorts of awakenings & awareness, lights dawning & totally pinged soul. 

The past few weeks - as someone who was all excited about working with me, who looked to be an ideal professional fit, dropped off the face of the earth - have found me doing all sorts of astonishing time travel.  Past selves, future, current.  Confused & clarified, with star bursts of awakened awareness paired with a really strong urge to go back to bed, pull the covers over my head.  

Then I read Jen Sincero's 05/02/18 (today!) calendar page - - If you made the decision that you were going to reach your goals, you would do whatever it took.  If you merely wanted to, but hadn't made the firm decision to, you'd roll over and begin convincing yourself that your life is fine just the way it is.

Has the decision had been made or batted around?

What was yesterday's page?  When our subconscious beliefs are out of alignment with the things and experiences we want in our conscious minds (and hearts), it creates confusing conflicts between what we're trying to create and what we are actually creating.  It's like we're driving with one foot on the gas and one foot on the brake.  

Get my foot off the brake & gas it!

Margot Potter - life force extraordinare!

Chomping at the bit, waiting for tomorrow's launch of Margot's book, Fifty & other F-Words!  Love this FB post she wrote last week that SO captures this paradigm-shifting, world-tipping femme!

When I opened my book and saw the endpapers, I’m not going to lie, I cried. So many years of being the odd girl out, feeling like the world could never embrace my sharp edges. Never quite fitting in, no matter how hard I tried.

That freckle faced, frizzy haired, translucent skinned little girl, bursting at the seams with enthusiasm. Aching to feel like she belonged. Too loud, too weird, too much! That little girl who spent hours and hours reading wonder filled books where she could escape the sad stuff and ignite her imagination. There she is, from toddler to teen to wild young woman, smiling at me from the past saying, “Finally!”

Finally, I stopped making myself smaller to make other people happy. I stopped trying to meet their expectations and rose to my own occasion. After losing everything, I had nothing left to lose. So, I set myself free.

I am three notches too loud, five notches too sparkly, and aging DISgracefully. And I am just getting started.

No matter what the world may tell you, there is nobody else like you. Embrace your sharp edges and your weird thoughts and your wonderful awkwardness, because that’s where your magic is.

And yes, you are magic.

The empty place

My thanks to Perri Klass for her wonderful article in today's NY Times on being an adult orphan.  Have been giving a lot of thought to the fact that I've been one for over seventeen years.  

Seventeen years since Mom was gone - still doesn't seem possible. Just a few hours before spotting Dr. Klass' tribute to her parents, both gone over thirteen years, had talked with John about the impact of Mom's death at ninety-one.  It was a engaged death - she was sharp as a tack up to the end, answering e-mails from a local college's Psych 101 students. 

That was September 16, 2001.  Part of me still hasn't fully recovered.  The part that always had someone around ready to shoot the breeze, to keep me company as I made dinner, to remember long ago moments & memories. I am still a recovering people person plunged into an isolation that still continues.  

The article brought to mind so many thoughts of Mom, of her always being her, a magnet for family & friends.  The mailbox that's now empty day after day always seemed to hold a card, note or letter for her.  The grandchildren - who barely speak to me now - stopped by every Christmas & usually whenever they were in town.  Mike & Kerry wouldn't have dreamed of being in Bryn Athyn without long, lingering visits to Squirrel Haven.  Peter was a staple.  

It hit me that what I've been trying to do is restore a balance that never existed in the first place.  That the BEST thing is to let those days be those days & let these days be what they are.  That the best way to hunker myself down with friends is simply to be one.  That as long as I live in isolation, the longer I'll be in isolation.  No brainer!

Interesting - started out writing about an empty place, discovered it filled with every sort of wonder.  Gotta love journaling!

The importance of finishing the painting

Reading - devouring - Playing Big sent me back to Point Zero.  The book, not a place.  And to a line (p. 12) that hit me first reading it 12 years ago, smacked me even harder now.

"I expounded on the key importance of always finishing the painting."

At the same time, Michele Cassou "cautioned them again & again to let go of product & embrace process."

Wasn't that contradictory?  If she told her art students to always finish the painting, isn't that focusing on product over process?

Did I even notice that question on my first reading, at fifty-three?

The answer to me does go to the heart of process.  A finished painting is the outcome of a completed - for the moment - process, not the other way around.  It is the doing that matters, not the thing that is created or the action that is done.  

If I had embraced the process of putting together A CREATIVITY JAM for Age Justice, everything that needs to be done would be, all the performers confirmed & locked in, all the artists working like crazy on their artist's statements & waiting for me to pick up their pieces on May 12 or 13. 

BufBut give credit where credit is due - I did focus enough on the process to get the art pieces lined up, several performers on board (that's been way harder than I expected), the sound equipment is good to go & I've figured how to display the artwork without having to hang anything from the ceiling or set on easels.  Yay, me!

So why am I still up 4:54 a.m. after awakening at 4:06, wondering if the place will be packed with guests for the 7:30-9:00 p.m. event or will be virtually empty?  Because even on this project, I've found myself focused too often focused on the thing instead of the flow of making it happen.  Am still prone to delay distraction derailment. 

Breathe deep.  Let go of thinking of the end, focus on fulfilling the means.  Process over product.  On following flow, immersed within it, braving the rapids, contemplating tranquil stretches, paddling like crazy or consciously drifting, staying with it from start to finish.

Always finish the painting, let go of product & embrace process.  

.  

Finding Mom & Mim in the pages of books

Daedalus Books had an amazing deal on Mary Stewart books that swiftly sold out.  So many cherished titles - The Ivy Tree, Airs Above the Ground, Madam Will You Talk?  & - above all - This Rough Magic.  Strangely, no copy of My Brother, Michael, the favorite of all three Lockhart ladies.

Long afternoons replenishing hot cups of tea, devouring Pepperidge Farm sugar cookies & the wondrous adventure of Mary Stewart's adventurous (typically unintentionally) female & male characters, dashing around the British countryside, capitals of Europe & exotic spots along the Mediterranean.

Thinking of Mary Stewart led me to remembering Victoria Holt.  How Mim & I loved those novels!  Mistress of Mellyn, Bride of Pendorric, Menfreya in the Morning.  I haven't thought about them or her many other titles for decades.  We'd wear the paperbacks out with reading & rereading.  Perhaps not great literature, but they captured our imagination.

Mom was never as fond of Victoria Holt as Mim & I.  She loved Rosamunde Pilcher & R.F.Delderfield.  Both Mom & Mim were big fans of Helen MacInnes - Decision at Delphi, The Venetian Affair, Assignment in Brittany.  She didn't appeal to me, although I did learn from her that the 2nd dining room footman or the chauffeur were more likely to be spies than big wig diplomats or government figures.  All it took for Mom to slip over to cozy England was to open up a James Herriott novel - she loved sending them to Jim Peddicord, her veterinarian nephew, when he was just starting out in his practice.

I can always find Mom & Mim in the pages of books.  We loved reading & discussing plot lines.  It felt like there were figures in books who had more reality for us than actual people.  

Going to head downstairs to brew a pot of tea, grab a plate of ginger cookies & settle in for a read.  Now, where did I put Mom's copy of Rebecca?