tamarjacobson

For someone who is a declared atheist as I am, recently I realized that I have an amazing number of nick knacks and ornaments of spiritual, sentimental or good luck value. For example, I collect Buddhas and have done so for more years than I can remember. This past year I decided I am not collecting them any longer and warned Tom about that just before Christmas lists were being drawn up. "No more Buddhas," I said. During the past couple of years I noticed that I have sort of started collecting Willow Tree angels. I am not ready to give that up yet. Am enamored by the roundness-like feel and simplicity of these figurines.

I was thrilled to receive Mother and Son for Christmas. I had requested this one, specifically, because it brings me back to the days when I was a young mother, and my son was six or seven.

I do not remember why I started collecting Buddhas. I have been intrigued by them for such a long time. It might come out of my old yoga days, or times when I have contemplated Eastern religions. I simply do not remember.

For the last thirty years or so I have made sure to have not one, but a couple of Hamsas hanging at the front door just to ward off the evil eye. Oh yes, and I possess a couple of fico‘s too, given to me by a Brazilian student back in Buffalo a few years ago.

When I was in Rhodes last May I searched for and purchased an evil eye bracelet which I wear constantly on my left hand along with a delicate bracelet of crystal beads. The latter I received last summer from a new friend to support me through my health scare.

One of my all-time favorite keep sakes is a small rubber mouse. It sits close to my computer. I have kept it for twenty four years. Gilad gave it to me when he was ten years old. The night before there had been a live mouse running around our small apartment. He and I lived alone since his father and I had divorced. The neighbor came to help me chase the mouse away and I stood on the couch and screamed and screamed until it was driven out. The next day, Gilad was out with his father and while they were up in the town together he bought me the little rubber mouse. When they arrived home he presented the mouse to me and said he had bought it for me to learn not to be afraid of mice any longer.

Out on our patio, waving in the breeze fly a long line of Tibetan Prayer Flags that Leanne brought me from Taiwan at my request. She was curious as to what an atheist like me would be doing with such flags. I just love the way they flap and wave in the wind allegedly bringing happiness, long life and prosperity to the flag planter and those in the vicinity. "Besides," I said, "I’ll use whatever it takes!" I attached to my cell phone a good luck butterfly that Leanne and her mother gave me when I first met them. How did they guess I was starting to collect butterflies? And how did I know butterflies were good luck? All I knew was that my friend Susan had given a speech at my book party where she compared me to a butterfly, coming out of its cocoon and spreading its wings. Naturally, I started collecting butterflies after that!

Each ring, bracelet, necklace or pair of earrings have significance and meaning for me and I seem to hold onto even the tiniest keepsakes given to me over the years. As I look around my study I see all kinds of odds and ends, cluttering, or is it propping me up? Supporting and enveloping me with good luck, warm wishes, and symbols of hope. All of them representing different peoples and belief systems, fellow and sister life travelers sharing themselves with me, all wanting the same things: joy, hope, grace, love, forgiveness, light.

Quote of the day:

… it is a precious thing to be allowed to talk about yourself in public, not for reasons of simple exhibitionism but because the attempt to describe your experience to an audience pushes you forward into an understanding of it. Nuala O’Faolain (page 61)

Yesterday I had one of those rude awakening experiences where I slipped into feeling younger than I am and forgot that I am older than I felt. I have been having a lot of fun lately down over at Citizen of the Month with Neilochka as he puts himself out there for the bidding. It has been humorous and playful. And I, for one, have been playing along too. Joking and jibing, daring and propositioning along with all his other one hundred or so fans. There were times yesterday when I found myself alone in my room laughing out loud so hard that Ada looked up at me from her cat-nap. At one point during the back and forth of comments, there was one horrifying moment when we all thought that Neil would be outbid by a fellow competitor from Washington DC. I even wrote a comment saying, "Neil, don’t panic." To which he replied in his usual screamingly funny way:

"Tamarika –You’re right. It’s all for a good cause. It isn’t a popularity contest. It’s not my “worth.” I know my real “worth” every time I look at the beautiful little kittens I rescued from that fire in Brentwood and I’m now trying to find a good home. That’s all the “worth” I need. And if that’s not worth another 10 bucks to you to add to your bid, so be it."

It’s all happening for V-DAY and all proceeds go to their soundly good cause:

V-Day generates broader attention for the fight to stop violence against women and girls, including rape, battery, incest, female genital mutilation (FGM) and sexual slavery.

And let me tell you, I would bid on just about anyone to raise money for this!

But, back to my experience yesterday. Right in the heat of the moment, while I was laughing and bidding and going back and forth between reading Citizen of the Month and doing my other chores (like laundry for goodness sake), I decided to stroll over to visit SomeGuyInDC, who seemed to be the cause for Neilochka’s consternation. Neil had written (and again, I must stress that this was all in good humor!):

Oh no, I just looked at the site of the guy in D.C. getting more money than me. Have you seen how white his teeth are? And listen to this –

“Having spent years working in homeless shelters and progressive politics –”

He’s like a cross between Al Gore and Mother Theresa!

What am I supposed to do?

It’s time to take out the big guns.

For $156 dollars, I will put out. AND I will include a free, brand-new copy of Thomas Friedman’s best-selling “The World is Flat.”

Full of laughter, I went over to SomeGuyInDC and wrote a comment, something (I thought) humorous about approving of his social justice activity and wishing him luck but that I was holding out for someone who could take on an older woman "if you know what I mean," and then something about may the best man win, except that I wrote "may the best …" and left the rest to the imagination.

Well, a little while later when I had completed my chores and was preparing to go downtown on the train to meet Tom for dinner, I returned to SomeGuyInDC‘s site hoping to read a reply or a different comment from another of his readers. I opened the comment section and wham bang not only had my comment been deleted, it read:

Banned by webmaster. Your comments will not be added

I fell back in my chair, face red hot and blushing with shame. For a few moments even tears pricked at my eyes. No one had ever banned me from their site in all my two years of blogging. I could not imagine how I might have offended in such a way as to ban me. I had unwittingly continued my playfulness thinking here is yet another caring young man – a good person – putting himself out there to raise money for such a worthwhile cause.

And then, all of a sudden it hit me. He must have gone over to my site and seen an older woman. He must have been disgusted by the notion of what I had said. Why on earth was I playing a young people’s game when I am 57 going on 58! Was it that? Or is it that he just does not have a sense of humor? And yet, in one of his own comments he had talked about "pity bids" being welcomed. So he did seem to have a sense of humor. In any event it was a sobering experience indeed. Naturally, I only have my assumptions because there has been, and (I assume) there will be no dialog about that.

Riding the train downtown to Tom I stared out of the window. I realized that I have had my chance. What was I thinking? I should not be participating in a young people’s game. Time to sit quietly by and watch from the sidelines. I had wanted to go over to Citizen of the Month and continue the fun by telling Neil not to worry, the DC guy doesn’t have a sense of humor. But then I decided to stay put.

I had better just learn my place as an older woman – no more sexy talk or even thoughts about sexy talk for me! Although, in the end, I have to laugh. What on earth could SomeGuyInDC have been imagining I meant?

Oh, and Neil, just in case you misunderstand my motives, I know that if I win you in the highest bid, I am not really expecting you to come to Philadelphia and go on a date with me. Although I would dearly love to meet you and Sophia one day.

Quote of the day:

Small change, small wonders … these are the currency of my endurance and ultimately of my life. Barbara Kingsolver

Well, I did it …

I cut my hair …

I haven’t even trimmed it since last April …

I just wasn’t going to allow just any old Philadelphia hair stylist even touch my hair. I only wanted my Michael from Studio M in Buffalo. After all he has been cutting my hair (only once a year!) for 11 years. And the last time I saw him was last April.

But finally, yesterday I decided. Enough! I need a change. After all recently I became an adult. It is time for a change and Philadelphia is my new home. I pulled my warm winter coat around me, gathered my purse and walked up the Hill to Natural Cuts.

"Ellen," I said, once she got my name right and took the "a" off the end of Tamara, "Okay. Let’s do it!"

And she did.

A year ago at Tamarika: The search begins; Joy; Delurking means

Update:

Well, my son checked in and as always expresses the honest opinion that I cherish so much. After his exclaiming, "Wow," in an e-mail to me, I asked what he meant by that, to which he replied: "That you look significantly different than i remember." Then I wrote asking if that was a good thing for him, and he answered: "let’s give it some time and see. prospects look good so far."

Quote of the day:

When I was twenty-seven, I felt like a pebble on the beach. Now I feel like the whole beach. Shirley MacLaine (at Ronni Bennett)

Liz, at I Speak of Dreams, reminds us about National Delurking Week. So come out, come out, whoever you are and share the joy!

I had been thinking about delurking actually. I know I read other blogs and more often than not do not comment. And yet I also know how good it feels when I receive a comment.

For me, I think it has to do with preferring silence more since I am older. I always did like to observe and listen. Not only did I learn more that way but it kept me safe because I always (thought) I knew what was going on. Now that I’m older I just prefer it. So much of what people say, I fear, is empty noise just to say: "I am here," or, "Look how much I know!"

Not that it is a bad thing.

As competitive as I am, I still prefer to bow out and let all those craving to be the biggest, strongest, right-est think they won. It is all illusion anyway.

Shaking my head, wondering what all that’s about so early in the day: Hey! Tamarika, too deep, too deep. It is really quite simple:

Happy National Delurking Week

That’s all.

Quote of the day:

If they’re shooting at you you know you are doing something right. White House computer technician, Andrew Macintosh, to Charlie in West Wing

Watching West Wing last night was like donning an old winter coat. Warm and comforting. Like finding old friends. I found myself laughing and crying as if I was seeing it for the first time. When the scene came on with Andrew, the White House computer technician saying that quote (above) to Charlie, Tom turned to me and said, "That applies to you too, honey." I choked with tears for his understanding. I knew exactly what he meant. And he knew I knew. We shared a moment.

Speaking of coats. Tom bought me a fine, new, warm winter coat for Christmas. I have such trouble buying coats for myself. It always seems like an enormous expense. And so I wear my old coats until they are threadbare and no longer warm. I guess Tom could not stand it one day more, and surprised me with an Iridescent Down Parka. I wore it today for the first time. Zipped and snapped it up close around my body and out I went to do some grocery shopping. As I walked around the store I found myself humming happily when suddenly I realized, "Hey! I am warm. Toasty, comfortably, deliciously warm!" I almost shouted out loud with delight. What a great feeling. As if I was snug and safe in my own skin. All bound up with warmth. I immediately called Tom at work and interrupted some Deanly meeting or other. "I just have to tell you," I exclaimed with glee, "This coat is wonderful. I feel so warm. For the first time in years! Thanks so much." Tom was ecstatic. "I’m so pleased," he replied, "I just couldn’t stand to see you in those old coats one more day."

It occurs to me that even though the life road we travel together sometimes feels quite rocky, Tom and I do, in fact, share warm, supportive moments together.

Well what can I say? I seem to have wasted the whole day. I mean I did the laundry, prepared a great meal for dinner tonight and even submitted a proposal for a conference in the fall. I managed to workout on the treadmill, lift weights, and complete twenty minutes of yoga exercises. I even read a few chapters of Nora Ephron’s, I Feel Bad About My Neck: And Other Thoughts on Being a Woman, and laughed out loud, I mean really loudly. Did I mention filling the bird feeder for all those confused birds out there? They don’t seem to know whether it is winter or spring. They were gathered around the feeder in their tens, even through the pouring rain. And so, it seems like I achieved quite a bit today but not really. You see, I should have been writing my chapter. I was so sure I would begin it today. Indeed, I completed all those course preparations last week in order that I would be ready, willing and able this morning to jump into the chapter. I know what I want to write. The words are on the tip of my tongue, making my typing fingers quiver with glee. I even slept in this morning, something I hardly ever do. Usually I am awake and up by 5:30 or so. This morning I slept until 7:00. So many other things suddenly become urgent today. Like cleaning all the mirrors in the house. Or sorting through old cards and letters and putting them neatly in a brand new shoe box. Oh yes, I forgot to add that I discovered, by chance, while skipping through television channels this afternoon, Heavenly Creatures. A movie I had been meaning to see. I simply had to sit down there and then and watch the whole thing, getting up only once for a bathroom break and to make a cup of tea. And then I gave Ada a jolly good brushing.

Evening falls and I look forlornly out the window at the darkening sky. It seems like I wasted another whole day.

A year ago at Tamarika: … Come on, get happy …

Update:

And now Shimon has started us a new Scrabble Game: Super Scrabble with 200 tiles! What a fantastically efficient distraction for chapter writers and Scrabble junkies!

The sniffles have gone. Head is clear. Spring-like weather to arouse restless passions. Flocks of Robins feasting in my yard. Time to get busy and set the work schedule. Courses to prepare and chapter to write before returning to work place. New friends to dine with. Old friends might pass through on their way home. So many conference presentations to plan for. Work-out to keep up with in training for my June hike.

Will there be time for blogging and twittering? Gee I hope so. And yes, I know so. Because in order to fulfill all the rest, I need all my support systems to buffer and hold, cradle and encourage, cheer on and acknowledge, value and validate.

Plus, I just want to have fun! Frank calls it fun online.

I have set myself a few goals and am certain there will be some emotional challenges ahead.

But, I have to say, fellow and sister bloggers, I feel charged and ready.

New days a-dawning. What do you say? Let’s just have a blast!

Quote of the day:

If you asked me what I came into this world to do, I will tell you: I came to live out loud. Emile Zola

(From the Next, a new twitter friend)

Just recently, Joyce made a comment …

I am intrigued about the ways in which you speak of choosing to become an adult. It sounds like a wonderful practice.

… which, got me thinking, and wanting to clarify and confirm for myself.

For many years Bob, my therapist, explained to me that I kept myself hinged to the double-bind, crazy-making relationships of childhood in order to remain attached to my family. He explained that if I gave up that system of relationships, and chose to become an adult, I feared losing everyone and being alone. At an intellectual or cognitive level I thought I understood what he was saying. Two years ago, when I left Buffalo, and Bob, I had reached a point in therapy where I was just beginning to understand emotionally, in my guts, what we had been talking about for a number of years. During the past two years, privileged to spend so much time alone with myself, and because of a variety of incidents with my family, I think I have finally got it!

For example, most recently I experienced an interaction with a family member that threw me right back into the bind. As I put the phone down from our conversation I could sense the old familiar discomfort rising, and I started to feel crazy with not knowing how to behave, what to do or how to fix it. All of a sudden, I recognized what was happening and felt immediately at peace. In fact I realized it had nothing to do with me, and that I could actually decide not to become a scapegoat. It was a little lonely and scary because I was not used to feeling that way. But at the same time, it was empowering. I made a decision that was good for me and I truly did not care whether people would love me for it or not.

It is all within me. I have the power to unravel the bind and reflect it right back. I have the right not to own it. I can send it back to its real owner and say, "No thanks, I don’t want to do this anymore. I do not have to be re-active to these prompts any longer." In that way I feel I am becoming an adult. Empowered by making decisions without worrying what others might think in order that they will love me. I cannot get it right anyway. Those were childish desires, worries, bonds. The main point is that as I let go I am cut loose, free to be me no matter what.

Alone and alive.

But responsible too. For becoming an adult means taking responsibility for my life and no longer blaming anyone else for what happens to me. I reject feeling victimized, excluded or abandoned. It means realizing where I begin and end, and that the other person is a separate entity with different thoughts, problems, feelings from mine. We are not all of the same mind like some kind of collective consciousness – like the Borg.

You see, Joyce, at some level I feared I would cease to exist if I broke free.

It probably sounds weird, or irrational, even a bit crazy. As I write this I can see how it might sound that way. And yet, that is how I actually felt. Or, of course, still feel sometimes. A person is never fully cured, whatever that means. Our earliest emotional memories are stored in the brain forever, never to be erased. If I have been so deeply enmeshed, attached to a collective consciousness, like I have, it is terrifying to break the ties that bind.

And so, to conclude for now, I wonder about it being "a wonderful practice," like you suggest. It is more like learning how to survive. I have so many regrets that it has taken so long – almost 58 years – because the pain has been excruciating along the way. And I am sure I still have a long way to go.

However, it does feel like some kind of awakening. A lot lighter, less weighed down with trying to work it all out. More detached and yet connected.

Becoming an adult seems to open me up to loving more without fear.

Quote of the day:

As I row, row, row
Going so slow, slow, slow
Just down below me is the old sea
Just down below me is the old sea
Nobody knows, knows, knows
So many things, things, so
So out of range
Sometimes so strange
Sometimes so sweet
Sometimes so lonely

The further I go
More letters from home never arrive
And I’m alone
All of the way
All of the way
Alone and alive

You just have to go, go, go
Where I don’t know, know, know
This is the thing
Somebody told me
A long time ago

The further I go
More letters from home never arrive
And I’m alone
All of the way
All of the way
Alone and alive
(Rowing Song, Patti Griffin)

The rain has turned to a mist over the Wissahickon Creek woods. Ada calls me to play in the next room. I sit down to write a post to the haunting sounds of Patti Griffin. Anya first introduced me to her in the summer last year when she created a CD of various and sundry music she thought I would enjoy, including some magnificent African pieces. And then Gilad sent me Impossible Dream for Christmas. I can hear some of you chuckling to think I have only learned about Patti Griffin so recently. But it is never too late.

The Rowing Song speaks to me. For the further I go into my personal shiva it becomes a bit lighter somehow. Just as after taking awhile to make a decision, the choice is finally made, and there is a big, welcoming sense of relief. I start to realize feelings of joy at choosing to become an adult. Am smiling and happy while I water the plants, and have been playing the piano and singing again.

The further I go
More letters from home never arrive
And I’m alone
All of the way
All of the way
Alone and alive

Yes indeed. In fact, the letters from home have been arriving less and less in more ways than I care to describe, and I become more and more alive. I am singing along now. I will definitely want to learn to play this one, and sing it with all my heart.

A year ago at Tamarika: Talking about freedom

• Blogging is writing for the world to see
• Blogging is writing just for me
• And today is my blogging anni-ver-sary
• Anni-ver-sary, anni-ver-sary
• Today is my blogging anni-ver-sary

Two years to the day you’ve been here with me

Mentors and friends and passers-by

Politicos, media junkies and fella psycho-travelers

Gardeners, cooks, photographers, artists

Writers, therapists, poets, musicians,

Teachers, philosophers

The elder and the young

London to India, France and New York

Those from the West and some from the East

North and South and Israel too

Cyber waves carry us through time and space

Sharing holidays and sad times

We’ve seen it all through

Movies, books and news events

Trials and tribulations

Tales of pets, tales of woe

And all kinds of celebrations

• A-blogging we will go, we will go
• A-blogging we all go

Thanks: to all who comment and those who don’t

Those who have blogs and those who haven’t

Readers/old friends from days gone by in Israel or Buffalo

Readers/new friends from the here and now

To so many new blogger friends, and old, constant companions: Danny, Frank, Jean, ainelivia, Joy, Ronni, Richard, Amba, True Ancestor, Pedestrian, MaryB, Winston, Always Question, Rubies in Crystal, Blaugustine

[And thanks to all those blog-lurkers, who I don’t know are there, for stopping by to check me out]

A year ago at Tamarika: Blogging-a-versary

Update:

Many thanks to Frank who generously links to me!