I enjoy driving, so, heading upstate NY yesterday to visit family, I looked forward to my ride as an integral part of the pleasure of the day. It didn't disappoint.
The Taconic Parkway is one of my favorite highways, the most perfect road for a summer drive, a meandering pair of ribbons that winds its way through forest and farmland atop the ridge of the Taconic Mountains, with a commanding vista of the Hudson Valley and the impressive peaks of the Catskill Mountains in the west. As the Silver Bullet and I headed out, I couldn't have picked better weather for the drive, not too hot, blue skies filled with lovely summer puffs of clouds. Traffic wasn't bad, and I settled in with my iced green tea, opting for the radio to entertain me. I found an oldies station that claimed to play all the tunes we "never hear anymore", and they were right - when was the last time *you* heard "Tighten Up"?
I was in an easy summer groove as suddenly, I noticed that the sky ahead of me was looming black, and, as sunlight still streamed through the moonroof, it started to rain, and how. There wasn't much in the way of lightning or thunder, but it was coming down so hard I was surprised not to see hail. Within seconds, there was enough water on the road to cause some serious ponding (on a ridge top), but there are no shoulders on the road, so it's not very easy or convenient to pull over and wait it out. As I rounded a bend, all of the cars ahead of me had their brake lights on. I managed to make my way around most of the cars who were stopped, or nearly so, to see that what was holding things up was a car *stopped* in theright lane - no lights, no flashers. If the storm hadn't slowed us all down to some 40 mph, that would have been a multi-car pileup, for sure.
After about 3 or 4 minutes of this pounding rain, it abated nearly as quickly as it had started, and out peeked sunshine again, punctuated by a few moments of drizzle here and there. Soon, my journey changed direction, and I was able to look back through sunny skies to the mountain ridge, with the storm cloud sitting there surrounding it. It sure gave a new dimension to the notion of driving *through* a storm!
After an afternoon of the familiar camaraderie that only occurs among family, content with good food and the comfort of many hugs and kisses, my return trip home took on an entirely different mood. I never even turned on the stereo, as the unfolding landscape provided me with its own beautiful music. As woodlands opened up, blue skies shifted to peach and coral, and then dusty lavender, ringed with crimson, in the twilit westerns mountains. That gave way to sparkling navy velvet above, interrupted here and there with fog and gauzy mist, as summer-warmed streams and the earlier rain yielded their moisture to the crisp evening air. Then, in the east, the magnificent, buttery disc of the moon commanded the night sky, a beacon lighting my way homeward.
Showing posts with label contemplation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label contemplation. Show all posts
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Affirmation
I get asked regularly about the streak at the front of my hair, and I tell people the truth, that it's partly natural, as I'm turning very white there, but I enhance it and even it out, which is why it looks blonde. But there's actually more to the story.
Back in 1998 (holy cow, 10 years already!), it was the June after my soon-to-be-ex and I moved apart, and I felt as if my life had been a total failure. Not only did I no longer have my marriage, my life and home I had known before, but I had been fired from a job that I had loved, and with it, I knew, a career was gone as well. My salvation came from two places, the therapist I saw who had been somewhat helpful, and a dear old (gay, and very platonic) friend who stepped back into my life unexpectedly, two days after losing my job, after not having seen him for about 8 years.
He was in a bit of flux himself, and he and I hung out over that summer, and found I was able to make lemonade, so to speak, out of my unemployment and my lack of ties. We hung out at his family's lake house near me, we cooked on the grill and smoked cigars on my patio, we drove up to Boston to hang out with his sister, who became a good friend of mine. A bunch of us went on a great camping trip to Fire Island, full of lazy afternoons, and moonlit margarita epiphanies. It turned out to be a wonderful summer, and helped me get my head around my new, single life.
During that time, I let go of a lot of things, and one of them was coloring my hair, something I had been doing since I was in my 20's. I was curious to see what it really looked like, and as it grew in, I had this chunk of white hair coming out near the front that I liked. As it continued to grow out, though, I did recognize that most of my head was this steely salt and pepper look that was unflattering and aged me quite a bit. I knew that I'd be coloring it again before I got serious about finding a job.
In the meantime, my ex and I had been play-acting at "staying friends," and one evening, when I had occasion to see him, the first thing he said when he saw me was, "What the hell are you doing with yourself? You've totally let yourself go, and your hair looks like shit!" Now, this was typical of how he had treated me while we were married, and a large part of why I wasn't with him anymore, but I decided to let it go. After all, I *had* decided that I needed to color it again, right?
I had made up my mind in advance of this that I wanted to get taken out to dinner; I was unemployed and broke, so this was the least he could do. So I swallowed the anger, and we headed out to dinner, where things went from bad to worse. Over the course of the meal, he proceeded to tell me just how disappointed he was in me. When he married me, I had so much potential, so intelligent, and yet I had failed to make anything of myself or do anything meaningful with my life. He was relentless, and I wound up needing everything I had not to burst out into tears right there in the restaurant. I finally had to cut the dinner short, and lost my composure as we exited the place.
He continued on the drive back to my house, despite my tears, telling me that he had been so glad when I told him that I was seeing a therapist (he had refused to see a marriage counselor with me), and that he had expected that I would have learned a few things and made some progress with her over the several months I had been seeing her. I told him that I had, and that one of the important things I had taken from my sessions was that it was important to surround myself with people who cared about me for who I already am, and who support me.
"Oh, so the woman with only one eye needs to surround herself with blind people so she can feel good about herself," his voice dripping with scorn. His remark is so frozen in my memory that I remember everything about it, even exactly where we were on the road. It couldn't have hurt more if he had struck me, and I knew at that moment that I would never, could never, regard him again as a friend.
A couple of days later, as I looked in the mirror, hair color bottle ready to go, those gray roots kept making me think of that awful conversation, and there was a part of me that wanted to keep it that way as a promise to myself that I would never, ever allow myself to be treated that way or spoken to that way again. So, I decided to keep that white section without color, and I called it my affirmation. For a long time, whenever I'd notice it, that day would come to mind.
It's been nearly ten years now, and the white section has grown considerably, enough that it would be hard to get it ,these days, to the dark chestnut that covers the rest of my head. I hardly ever think about my ex when I look at it anymore. I suspect that perhaps it has changed from being an affirmation of self to a talisman that protects me, as I've never even come close to a relationship with any man who would be so uncaring and cruel. I'm told it's my "trademark," and I get strong protests from my family and friends (most of whom do not know this story) when I talk about changing it, so for now, it stays.
Back in 1998 (holy cow, 10 years already!), it was the June after my soon-to-be-ex and I moved apart, and I felt as if my life had been a total failure. Not only did I no longer have my marriage, my life and home I had known before, but I had been fired from a job that I had loved, and with it, I knew, a career was gone as well. My salvation came from two places, the therapist I saw who had been somewhat helpful, and a dear old (gay, and very platonic) friend who stepped back into my life unexpectedly, two days after losing my job, after not having seen him for about 8 years.
He was in a bit of flux himself, and he and I hung out over that summer, and found I was able to make lemonade, so to speak, out of my unemployment and my lack of ties. We hung out at his family's lake house near me, we cooked on the grill and smoked cigars on my patio, we drove up to Boston to hang out with his sister, who became a good friend of mine. A bunch of us went on a great camping trip to Fire Island, full of lazy afternoons, and moonlit margarita epiphanies. It turned out to be a wonderful summer, and helped me get my head around my new, single life.
During that time, I let go of a lot of things, and one of them was coloring my hair, something I had been doing since I was in my 20's. I was curious to see what it really looked like, and as it grew in, I had this chunk of white hair coming out near the front that I liked. As it continued to grow out, though, I did recognize that most of my head was this steely salt and pepper look that was unflattering and aged me quite a bit. I knew that I'd be coloring it again before I got serious about finding a job.
In the meantime, my ex and I had been play-acting at "staying friends," and one evening, when I had occasion to see him, the first thing he said when he saw me was, "What the hell are you doing with yourself? You've totally let yourself go, and your hair looks like shit!" Now, this was typical of how he had treated me while we were married, and a large part of why I wasn't with him anymore, but I decided to let it go. After all, I *had* decided that I needed to color it again, right?
I had made up my mind in advance of this that I wanted to get taken out to dinner; I was unemployed and broke, so this was the least he could do. So I swallowed the anger, and we headed out to dinner, where things went from bad to worse. Over the course of the meal, he proceeded to tell me just how disappointed he was in me. When he married me, I had so much potential, so intelligent, and yet I had failed to make anything of myself or do anything meaningful with my life. He was relentless, and I wound up needing everything I had not to burst out into tears right there in the restaurant. I finally had to cut the dinner short, and lost my composure as we exited the place.
He continued on the drive back to my house, despite my tears, telling me that he had been so glad when I told him that I was seeing a therapist (he had refused to see a marriage counselor with me), and that he had expected that I would have learned a few things and made some progress with her over the several months I had been seeing her. I told him that I had, and that one of the important things I had taken from my sessions was that it was important to surround myself with people who cared about me for who I already am, and who support me.
"Oh, so the woman with only one eye needs to surround herself with blind people so she can feel good about herself," his voice dripping with scorn. His remark is so frozen in my memory that I remember everything about it, even exactly where we were on the road. It couldn't have hurt more if he had struck me, and I knew at that moment that I would never, could never, regard him again as a friend.
A couple of days later, as I looked in the mirror, hair color bottle ready to go, those gray roots kept making me think of that awful conversation, and there was a part of me that wanted to keep it that way as a promise to myself that I would never, ever allow myself to be treated that way or spoken to that way again. So, I decided to keep that white section without color, and I called it my affirmation. For a long time, whenever I'd notice it, that day would come to mind.
It's been nearly ten years now, and the white section has grown considerably, enough that it would be hard to get it ,these days, to the dark chestnut that covers the rest of my head. I hardly ever think about my ex when I look at it anymore. I suspect that perhaps it has changed from being an affirmation of self to a talisman that protects me, as I've never even come close to a relationship with any man who would be so uncaring and cruel. I'm told it's my "trademark," and I get strong protests from my family and friends (most of whom do not know this story) when I talk about changing it, so for now, it stays.
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