friendship – I'm too old for this …

“What brings you joy?”

The question made my brain functions stop. The clink of dishes and silverware, chairs rubbing the wooden floor as people settled into their seats, the hum of conversation…all immediately ceased, no longer audible to me as I sought the answer.

It was the second night of our meditation and writing retreat at Tassajara Zen Monastery. “Rona”, the monk leading our meditation practice, and I were seated at the end of one of the long wooden tables in the dining hall. I could see servers intermingling with guests as all were entering for the meal, but suddenly she and I were the only ones in the room, magnified for just this moment. I took a deep breath.

Joy?

It took me a minute to speak. “I really don’t know anymore. My husband was ill for many years and there was no joy in that. It changed him. Getting through it was all I could manage. He passed away in January and sometimes, I’m still discombobulated. Without Robert, I’m untethered, searching for the ground beneath my feet because the old ways just don’t work. I feel joy with my daughter and her family and that’s a good beginning.”

I had returned to California six weeks after Robert’s funeral, in time to participate in the monthly shamanic meditation held at the house. I was grieving his loss and completely drained by both the emotions and legalities of the situation. I welcomed the infusion of clarity, healing, and energy that these rituals provided me.

During the service, a noise jolted me from my reverie. I could see a pair of hands, Robert’s hands, holding a glowing, golden box. As he laid this at my feet, I heard his voice, “Laura, I’m returning this to you. I’m so sorry that I took it from you so many years ago…it’s your joy.” I looked closer to read the little note attached to it, ”DANCE!” is all it said.

Overwhelmed with such a profound feeling of love, I burst into tears and sobbed for quite some time. Silently…not wanting to disturb the other nineteen seekers in the darkened room, entangled in their own blankets and revelations brought to light by the melodious icaros and pounding drum.

My crying ended as I was blessed with another vision. Robert again, standing at attention—strong, straight, muscular, and healthy. He was dressed in uniform, reminiscent of the Battlestar Galactica science fiction-type novels he favored… and he had wings! An enormous, feathery pair like John Travolta’s in the movie, Michael. Go ahead, laugh…I did.

Surely a sacred sign…

Then I received the significance of this powerful image. He was standing watch over me, an angelic, commanding sentinel to care for and protect me, as he did before his illness robbed him of his joy, and therefore ours. I was aware that the forgiveness and love we had expressed for each other the last days of his life had healed any and all strife between us and would continue into eternity.

Three weeks after my Tassajara retreat, I’m on my way to another Zen Center. This one is in Sebastopol, where one of our housemates, Kelli, will be ordained as a Zen Buddhist monk. Carla, her best friend from college, flew in from San Diego that morning and together with my daughter, Danielle and her wife, Anne, we are driving up to witness the ceremony and celebrate her commitment.

Driving through Napa, the perfectly coiffed grapevines line the road on either side, vivid green against the brilliant, blue afternoon sky. The top is down on my new Mustang convertible, warm air and bright sunshine washing over us as we sing along with the radio at the top of our lungs. Danielle has discovered the “70’s Road Trip” mix on Spotify, providing the perfect soundtrack for this journey. I turn the volume way up so we can hear it above the honking horns and whistling wind.

It’s Friday, at the start of the Labor Day weekend and a drive that should take us an hour, turns out to be two, but as we laugh and warble along with the Rolling Stones, Eagles, and Elton John, it’s clear that it doesn’t matter how long it takes. We allowed extra time for the holiday traffic and except for Kelli, everything we need is right there in the car—hard-boiled eggs, avocados, bananas, water, a full tank of gas, and the love between us that we are on our way to share with her.

Hearing the distinctive guitar intro and raspy voice of Rod Stewart singing Maggie May, a goofy grin spreads over my face and I ease into my seat, acutely aware of this time we have together. It’s one of those perfect moments…a snapshot to add to the album of special times that have enriched my life.

Pure joy.

Coupled with these feelings, Rod’s serenade transports me back to another road, this one lined with tall cornfields. I’m driving an old, white, sputtering Corvair with the radio blasting the newly released Maggie May. The dj’s were playing it constantly, so we know all the words.

Sandy and I attended freshman year in Chicago and savored these road trips to stay with friends in colleges all over the state. When she couldn’t get away, I would hit the trail alone, folding and unfolding my Rand McNally map as required, to chart the path through the endless farmlands of Illinois.

Living at home and working part-time was the only way I could pay for tuition, books, and supplies. It was not easy, but that is another story. I mention it only to illustrate the motivation, relief, and anticipation I experienced each time I packed up my car for one of these weekends away. Escape from the overwhelming responsibilities of homework, housework, siblings, parents, and my job provided me with freedom and hope—a glimpse of a future that I could determine without anyone else’s directives or demands, filled with enthusiasm, love and yes, joy.

I veered off the road of radical personal discovery, as many of us do. As a willing and sometimes eager passenger, detours and highways led me to others’ more conservative expectations and destinations—also, another story, but one that has come to an end. Now I’m ready to take the wheel with all the passion and excitement of that eighteen year-old girl.

My hair is much shorter now and shot with gray, my eyes surrounded by a few more laugh lines and a visor on my head to keep the sun out of them, but I’m sure the expression in them is just the same as that first Maggie May moment in time…wide-eyed wonder at the possibilities before me.

Without Robert in the driver’s seat and me riding shotgun beside him, it is not the future we planned. I’m driving now–with a GPS and custom playlist, no particular time line, and a long list of places to go and people to see. Could be that place is only as far as the hammock swinging beneath the lofty redwoods out front, a French class in Berkeley, Iyengar yoga in the Piedmont, or exploring the countless curiosities contained in Golden Gate Park.

When I do gas up the Mustang or board a plane this time, I’ll probably be sleeping in a Hampton Inn, Four Seasons, or the perfectly appointed guest room of a dear friend or client, but while on this quest, I’m not ruling out a spot on the floor or cramped backseat altogether.

Having the security, protection, generosity, and affection of Anne, Danielle, and Robert, in both this world and the mystical one, allows my spirit of adventure to take flight. Freedom and hope—a future that I alone determine, filled with enthusiasm, love…and as that winged sentinel reminded me, plenty of dancing.

Pure joy.

“Hey, Rona, ask me that question once again.”

###

One of my cherished friends, Gerri, died in her sleep last month and though I am deeply saddened, I am grateful for the wake up call. It reaffirmed my commitment to live a full, authentic life and reminded me that she was doing just that.

After the death of her husband, David, Gerri sublet an apartment in New York for a few months. She “love, love, loved it!” and has yearned to live there ever since. I always encouraged her to go and have the adventure she was longing for, but many family and friends had different opinions.

*a long, long time ago…with David and Gerri*

“Start over at your age!? Why would you leave your gorgeous apartment, where you were so happy with David, where you have so many people who love you… for what?” As was her style, Gerri was thoughtful and considerate with her deliberation, weighing all of her options, as well as the effect her move would have on others. Her final decision was not a whim…she was going.

The last time Gerri and I were together, we lolled around on the floor of her empty living room like teenagers, laughing and making plans for the future. She was ecstatic showing me photos of her perfect little apartment on Central Park South. We traded gifts, each bringing something of our own to share with the other as personal mementoes. I promised to come visit as soon as I was settled in California. That was a little over a month ago.

Do not put off until tomorrow what you can do today

“Don’t put it off; do it now! Don’t rest until you do. Save yourself like a gazelle escaping from a hunter, like a bird fleeing from a net.” —Proverbs 6 verses 4 & 5.

Maybe you may know you have to escape, but are unsure of where you’re fleeing to. If you’re confused by your options or think you have none at all, you may be clinging to a distant memory, dreams of how it could be, or a reality that isn’t quite right.

Perhaps you don’t need to escape, but want something different. You can picture your new life in every detail, but feel restricted by or responsible for family and friends, abiding by their expectations and ignoring your own desires.

Sometimes it’s money or position that stops us from moving on. Many think we couldn’t possibly afford to leave our current lives, but are we constrained or just unwilling to adjust our standard of living in exchange for freedom or adventure?

Paralyzed with fear of the unknown, disapproval, or privation causes many of us to do nothing. I’ve suffered dreadful apprehension involving all of those and like Gerri, I spent a great deal of time considering my options and the consequences of each.

Something inside me clicked into place

When the initial shock at the sad news wore off, I recognized a resolve I hadn’t felt before. I had been traveling along at a nice, comfortable pace, consistently moving forward and letting go of what was no longer necessary in my life. I trusted that all the details would be revealed to me as I eased on down the road.

That road was taking me back and forth from Chicago to Oakland on a regular basis to see clients, friends, and family. Unable to see what lie ahead for me, I hung onto my lifeline in Chicago. It is challenging to have one foot in each world, but clarity regarding anything more had been elusive until right this instant. Now I knew I had to jump with both feet.

If you sense you should be somewhere else, doing something else, listen very carefully to what’s being expressed. Gerri’s death served as a megaphone right into my soul. I could feel it in my heart and hear it as if she were shouting into my ear.

“DO IT NOW!”

Whatever it is you’re dreaming of, aching for, want in your life, or need to escape from—do it now, don’t wait! If you don’t have all the puzzle pieces, start with those you have. Even baby steps will get you there eventually. The important thing is to take that step in the right direction—immediately.

Not sure what direction that is? “Try on” places or things to see how they fit. Join a new class or activity or go to a place and live there for awhile as Gerri and I did in New York and California. Keep searching until inspiration speaks and do what it tells you to do, leaving what’s unnecessary behind.

“All the time in the world”, could turn out to be much less time than you think. It doesn’t matter if you’re eighteen or eighty, we can’t afford to waste any of it. Don’t you want to be living in alignment and truth for as long as you can? I know I do. Gerri’s death magnified the reality of that as never before.

Fly Away Home

Flying off into the sunrise, I’m committed to living a full, authentic life. I have no idea what it will look like or how it will play out, but it’s important that I go. Really go. How can I develop my future while remaining grounded in the past? Taking one step forward and two steps back just won’t work anymore. I’m planting one foot in Oakland, with the other poised and ready to move forward from there.

Those people in my life dedicated to growth and open to exploration, will remain connected, wherever we are. Others, traveling a different path, will grow smaller as we trek in opposite directions away from each other. Then there’s Gerri. Of all the people I thought I would never see again, she was not one of them, so I will visit her often…to her place in my heart.

–in loving memory–

GERALDINE HILT SHUTE

Free Guide — Letting Go — The Manifesto

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joy ride

how the death of my dear friend brought clarity to my life