Grow Where I’m Planted

I can be hard on myself, especially in winter when I’m not as productive. In any case, I knew better than to set myself up to fail with a new year’s resolution. But I do like to think of each new year as a fresh start, unscathed by failure, and filled with possibility. My adult daughter told me she was choosing one word to set a theme for the year. I liked that notion.  After a day or so of discernment, the word that came to me was, “open”. 

“Open”. Open to new ideas. Open to new opportunities. Open to new ways of seeing myself and others. Open to change or at least to be a tiny bit more flexible in my perceptions. Maybe even travel more.

I was invited to a friend’s annual birthday party which always occurs mid-January and can be quite a pick-me-up from the doldrums. On her sixtieth birthday, and every year since (more than 10), she has thrown herself a party. It is traditionally an all-women-all-day-sometimes all weekend affair. Fascinating female friends, new and old, from all walks of life come and go. There is food, drink, games, and lots of chatter. A full-grown slumber party, women of all ages schlepping around in pajamas, drinking wine. If you give in to it, it can be a time of empowerment and support. This year the party was limited to one all day affair so no pajamas but good food and plenty of wine.

I have never been the kind of person who could throw themselves a party although women should probably learn to celebrate themselves more. On my 60^th birthday (I’ll be 62 this summer), while the earth didn’t move like it did when I hit 42—and spent a decade trying to right wrongs and get my feet on solid ground—I did feel a slight shift in perception. Another course correction in my navigation system. I stated out loud to myself and to my closest people that I am in the fourth quarter, looking at my parents’ health and longevity. This gives me another 20, if I’m lucky. Possibly only 10 of those in reasonably good health and energy. I declared that if there was something I wanted to do, I would do it. Here I am, two years later, still trying to remind myself. It takes a long time to unlearn a way of being.  

This party was my first social outing in weeks as I had been sick with Covid compounded by a sinus infection that refused to release my brain from its foggy prison. My work office closes down through the winter holidays so I guess it was a good time to be sick if I had to be. Still, I felt like I should have been reading and/or writing. Instead, I sat in a stupor for days. Unable to form a simple thought, I merely observed myself be sick. If I’d been trying to meditate—remove rampant thoughts from my head—I would have had monkey mind. In this case, it felt like my brain had been wiped clean. On the plus side, I’ve never slept so well or for so long at a time. I hoped, whether I intended it or not, having no thoughts for a suspended number of days worked as a clearinghouse to make room for a brighter year full of ideas and execution. I wasn’t really feeling social, but I went to support my friend and to be “open.”

The party was to begin around 10 AM. and last until 10 PM. I moved reluctantly through my house, readying myself for a long day of interaction. Stretchy, comfortable clothes. Black tourmaline beads on my right wrist to protect from taking on others’ negative energy. Rose quartz beads on my left to receive a positive flow of love. Blue lapis lazuli earrings for overall protection and positive energy. It couldn’t hurt. We are all made of matter. All matter vibrates at a specific frequency. The higher the vibration, the more positive the experience, like thoughts. Whether you believe in the vibrational energetic properties of gemstones or not, I believe setting intentions raises my vibrational experience. Rituals are powerful. It’s like an active meditation. Plus, I believe we find what we’re looking for. Raising our thoughts, raises our experiences. Since recently being sick of body and mind, I was feeling vulnerable and needed a little spiritual pick-me-up. Finally, properly attired, I started out the door shortly after noon reminding myself to be open.

Even if I was successful in raising my vibration, my starting point must have been pretty low. It was soon evident I was still in observation mode, hardly up to the challenge of real conversation.

As in years past, at some point during every party a circle is formed. Women take turns introducing themselves to the group. It used to be a game of telling three things, two truths and one lie. The other women in the circle tried to discern the lie. This year, the circle took a more organic conversational turn which included mysticism and spiritual journeys. From ketamine clinics to holitropic and effigy breathwork to shamanic drumming it was clear many of these women had begun the inner work of midlife, curious and open to spiritual growth and all the trending modalities. This was my wheelhouse. I started this deeper work two decades ago but even since the age of nine, I have been a spiritual seeker. When I was a beginner on my spiritual journey, I couldn’t wait to share my experiences and epiphanies but more and more since I turned 60, I have grown quieter. Maybe I’ve gained just enough wisdom to realize nobody wants to hear it. They have their own life to deal with. The circle was large. It seemed each woman spent at least 15-30 minutes sharing pieces of their best life. Places lived, jobs, interesting experiences, meeting famous people. This lasted all afternoon…hours it seemed. It was exhausting, really. While a few women opted out of the circle to graze the food table, I had grown roots on the couch, unable to free myself.

I know it was mostly because of my illness, but listening to the experiences of these women, their ability to move through life with a sense of autonomy, independence and direction, the jobs they’d had, the places they’d lived, temporarily thwarted my confidence.

My early path was traditional. Compared to the stories told, the choices I’d made felt small, unremarkable, cliche. For a writer, cliché is such a disappointment. Get married young, support husband’s career, raise children. And I might add here that I raised a stepson for many years before bearing my own child so that my child rearing years were prolonged, having raised not one, but two only children. It is worthy work and I don’t regret the dedication I gave to my family but like too many women of my generation and older, raising a family was my only purpose. I became a “we” before I became a “me”. And let me tell you, once entangled in a “we” situation, especially if one member of the “we” was not already a “me”, it is difficult to extract even a part of oneself without disassembling the whole.

**Sidebar: In my opinion, patriarchy has done a fine job selling the notion of marriage where “two become one” as a romantic notion rather than one of control.  To me, it means one of the people (usually the woman) must disappear into the shadows of the other.

I can proudly say I added two responsible contributing members to society which is no small feat (even if they did need counseling, lol), but I kept nothing for myself during those years. No matter how much I’ve grown, how far I’ve come, or what I have overcome, for almost three decades, I had no personal ambition. I never even let myself dream of choices outside of what my family members needed or wanted. I don’t think I meant to be a martyr. I was more like someone who had been brainwashed (or brainwashed herself) to believe she was not worthy.

When it came my turn to speak, I was dumbfounded. Not only was my actual voice weakened and shaky, my thoughts were still foggy. Even the most worldly of women in attendance seemed inviting, kind, yet, I fell victim to the soul deadening act of comparison. At that moment, I did not measure up. I rambled a bit. I got emotional. I passed the torch. Then, I spent two days analyzing my reaction…like any neurotic memoirist would.

I meditated on those circle conversations, discerning what it was exactly that had set me off.  No matter their life’s journeys, many of these women were just beginning the spiritual inner work that I had embarked on years ago. I wasn’t behind here. As a matter of fact, I was ahead of the curve in some respects. I’ve had years of counseling/self-awareness/memoir work. But I did start a career just as many same aged women were retiring, making me a late-bloomer with regard to choosing a personal life direction.

The thing that stuck out for me about the stories those women told was the number of oddball opportunities that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere and the fact that many of these women had seized the moment. They’d been in the right place at the right time and recognized it. They’d followed their own path, refraining from child rearing and even marriage until their own careers were off the ground or maybe doing both at the same time. How did they come about the confidence to follow their own path so young, being reared in the same era as me? Different cultures, maybe? Different role models? Certainly, different birth family expectations. Also, most of these women were not Appalachian, which may have a bearing. Nobody in all the generations of my family would have considered moving to another country straight out of college. Hell, my brother and I were the first to ever go to college.

What struck me that day, I would recognize later, was grief. There are whole parts of me that I ignored for years. Choices that I made that were clearly not in my own best interest. They may have been choices out of my control…or choices that were beyond my mental capacity at the time, but they were still my choices. I had already spent years of therapy restructuring my life, so it wasn’t new information. I knew this. I had grieved before. But that’s how grief works. It finds an opening and uses it to heal deeper wounds than you knew you had.

There was clearly something else for me to learn at this juncture. Listening to those ladies made me revisit my younger self, remember how insecure I had felt. But the gist of what they had all been saying was that they had been presented with an opportunity, sometimes not of their own making, recognized it, and seized upon it. With hindsight, I can see a number of opportunities that had presented themselves to me while I was doing laundry, making the twice daily commute to the school pickup/drop line, thinking, “no, my purpose is already being fulfilled.”  These were things I could have done while raising children—jobs, trips, experiences–but wouldn’t assert myself. More than that, I felt unworthy, like my life belonged to someone else. In the end, there was no room left for me in the life I’d accepted…or made.

I believe in synchronicity. Some say ask and ye shall receive. Others speak of the law of attraction. Prayer, setting intentions, asking the universe for help, talking to God and my own personal angels, etc. It works. I know. Miracles are everywhere, if you look. And, I’m incredibly grateful for this, my favorite part of my life. So, hear me when I say, be careful what you ask for and be detailed and sincere when you ask.

I had chosen the word “open” for my year’s theme and as soon as I was able to get out of the house, I was offered a variety of women whose stories modeled being open and were a testament to what a blessing it had been in their lives.

If my count is right, I’ve visited 39 states, at least 4 provinces in Canada and several islands in the Caribbean. But I have always lived within two hours of my childhood home and today, I am the third generation to occupy my family’s farm on the Kentucky River. (I have friends who won’t drive themselves to the next county so I know that all things are relative.) I am reminded daily of the ways of my ancestors. I walk their paths, see my reflection in the same mud puddles. I am grateful for them. Their tools are still in the barn for me to use. Are there more opportunities in other places? Absolutely. Sometimes I wonder how I might expand my horizons by living elsewhere, but is that what I want? Not really. I love my place. I’m sure I could learn to love other land, but this land loves me.

No, I think the lesson of the day was to remain open and aware of opportunities as they present themselves. I had, in fact, turned down opportunities through the years. Surely there are more to come. Especially, when I finally see myself and my time as a worthy endeavor and ask the Universe for help.

Speaking of help…almost no sooner than I came to this clarity, my phone rang. It was a government holiday and a snow day to boot so I was not in the office but when I looked at the caller ID, I recognized the number as belonging to a woman who had been trying to reach me at work. I halfway suspected it was a sales call but there was something in her voice message that made me return her call and even leave her my cellphone number.  

She lived in Florida. She had ties to Kentucky and she had taken a philanthropic interest in a subject that had led her to my nonprofit’s webpage. She was not a sales person. She’d already made an online donation to our cause and had called to see if she could be of further service to me! It was clear she is a young lady who thinks large, has a world of philanthropic foundations at her fingertips and wants to help me grow and expand my services! She opened my eyes and my mind to larger possibilities for a work project I’ve been contemplating. Just like that, my sorrowful attitude was turned around. Thank you Angels! And I didn’t even have to leave my farm! Even snowed in on an impassible road, opportunities can still present themselves. God is great! The Universe has my back. I am native to this land and I will grow where I’m planted.