It's Your Life

 It's Your Life

In 2014, it occurred to me, in a stunning and humbling moment of clarity, that I was waiting for someone else to show up with the key to my life.

As a single woman, I was seeking a partner with a big life. In my mind, big life was not necessarily synonymous with big money, big house, or big car. Big life meant that I wanted a partner whose life was filled with passion, purpose, meaning, and depth. I wanted to be transformed, and carried from my own so-so life, into someone else's purpose-driven life. What the Universe provided me with, however, was an opportunity to experience, and utilize, my own sense of lack as a vehicle for transformation. In short, so long as I sought, outside of myself, that for which I desired, I would continue to attract that missing piece in others. And while I never thought of myself as a woman seeking rescue, that moment of clarity was a game changer. I discovered that in order to find people who led deeply passionate and purposeful lives, I had to become a vibrational match! 

The Universe wasted no time delivering direction. Almost instantly, I was given an opportunity to attend a class at the Rhode Island School of Design, aptly called, "Become the Art Director of Your Own Life." From the first class, I began a process that continues to this day, of creating my own big, rich, passionate, purposeful, meaningful life. And lo and behold, now that I have taken responsibility for that creation, now that I am an energetic match to all that I seek, I no longer have to look outside of myself for the key. 

Brazen Little Hussy (Not)

Brazen Little Hussy (Not)

My oldest daughter, Katie, texted me Monday morning to say my soon-to-be-six-year-old granddaughter, Grace Amelia, had asked for makeup. Having come of age in the 50s and 60s when the messaging was clear and emphatic, "Good girls don't wear makeup," my response would have been a soul-crushing, "Hell, no!" or "Over my dead body!" My prudish Italian mother never wore makeup, nor did she give me lessons on the proper and appropriate application of foundation, rouge, eyeshadow, or lipstick. Consequently, I grew up a pretty plain Jane, and was clueless when my own daughters came of age. Therefore, the whole idea of makeup as something innocent, lovely and welcome is complicated in my mind. Especially when, in the language of my youth, makeup, bleached blonde hair and short skirts earned you the title,"brazen little hussy." 

With those old tapes playing in my head, I was surprised to learn that my daughter cheerfully offered my already beautiful granddaughter a hint of blush, eyeshadow, and lipgloss. I admire my daughter for the balance she brings to parenting and the raising of her three awesome humans. Of course she found sensible solid ground to satisfy Grace's curiosity, without crushing her spirit. 

Only recently, at sixty-six, have I begun dabbling, playing around and experimenting with makeup and color palettes. For Christmas last year, Lindsey, my middle, gave me a gift certificate to Sephora, and she graciously accompanied me the day I decided to redeem it. So now, if you catch me on a Zoom call, or a live Facebook video, you're apt to see me sporting a hint of tinted moisturizer, a brush of blush, glitter eyeshadow and red lipstick. All of which just goes to show, we're never too old to record over the old tapes. 

 

No Regrets

(Rose Mossa and baby Grace)

No Regrets

 "talkin' 'bout sweet time." ~Tim McGraw, Live Like You Were Dying

 

I spent last weekend at a virtual 3-day business event. On Friday afternoon, our host invited us to take stock of our last decade, to rewind the reel 10 years to 2011, to journal about our wins, our struggles, to capture our lives in the rearview mirror, as we prepared to vision for our next 10 years. At 66 years old, it's a strange and surreal exercise to imagine the next 10 years, knowing that sweet time is indeed sweeping me towards that final act. 

Two thousand eleven into early 2021 was a BIG decade for this solopreneur and mother of three. I embraced a life of sobriety. I spread my wings as a newly divorced woman. My oldest daughter graduated early from UConn, while her younger siblings attended private school in Providence. I graduated from massage school in Worcester and began my private practice. My creative life began to evolve once I moved into a Soho-style condominium in the heart of downtown East Greenwich. In 2014, my 60-year-old gypsy soul caught fire, and I embarked on an epic, solo, 30-day cross country trip. Upon returning, I found a publisher for my third book, Linger Longer: Lessons from a Contemplative Life, and in 2015, hit the open road again for a whirlwind, 60-day cross country book tour. Once an agoraphobic child, scared of my own shadow, I returned with a fearless spirit and fierce determination to live my no-strings-attached-single-by-choice-debt-free-life with vigor, passion, and purpose. 

On top of all these musings, my 29-year-old middle, my daughter Lindsey, got engaged on Sunday. Her older sister, Katie, who is already a fabulous mother to three beautiful humans, chided, "Kids, kids! My babies need cousins." I was 33, 37 and 38 when I birthed my children--a late bloomer by most accounts. My mom was 30 when she had me. When she died in 2016 at 92 years old, she'd had the pleasure of watching me and my younger brother grow up, marry, and raise children of our own. Blessedly, she got to meet and hold her first great grandchild. 

With time on my mind lately, I began to wonder. How many more miracles and priceless moments await me? Will I see my grandchildren marry, have and raise children of their own? Will the baby of the family, my only son, marry and discover the joys of fatherhood? Will I achieve my dream of owning a private retreat center for all who wish to pursue their creative visions? I want to look back in 2031 and know that I lived and loved this decade to the fullest with no fear, no regrets. Full steam ahead, baby! 

Less is More

 Less is More

I took my artist date on Wednesday this week because I was scheduled for my second Covid shot on FUN FRIDAY. The IKEA store in Stoughton, MA is always a source of inspiration, and it's been a year since I visited. A friend and I used to drive up every few months to browse and feast on their famous Swedish meatballs. Even without in-store dining, I felt drawn to immerse myself in a lifestyle I am passionate about---minimalism. If you know me, even virtually, then you know my mantra is, less is more. Less baggage, less stress, less attachment. More freedom, more connection, more memories. 

I've had the big house. I've had all the stuff. Over the years, I've lived in a 3,800 square foot reproduction Colonial with four other members of my family, and I've enjoyed a second home in the White Mountains. Now, I live in a 750 square foot vintage cottage with my sweet cat, Carla. My happiness could be due to several factors. I am single-by-choice (that means I'm not waiting for someone to show up with the key). I live debt-free. My adult children have lovely lives of their own and they welcome me often into their worlds. In short, I live an uncluttered life. Only the people, places and things that I love occupy my time, my home, my life, my world. 

I experienced a convergence of thoughts on my drive back to Rhode Island on Wednesday. With several IKEA room dimensions dancing around in my head (all under 500 square feet), I caught the tail-end of an NPR segment about the boom Amazon has experienced since the advent of Covid, as more and more people seek to fill their homes and empty hours. Finally, I drove by one of those metal storage facilities that people rent to store the stuff they don't have room for, and I flashed on our landfills chock full of waste. 

As a woman in long-term recovery, I have a pretty good understanding of addictions and the compulsions that drive them. My drug of choice was alcohol, but make no mistake, alcohol and drugs are just one distraction. People also use food, shopping, sex, gambling and relationships to fill their despair, their longing, their dissatisfaction. But the stuff just adds another layer between you and your higher self. 

I used to provide in-home massage therapy to a 90-year-old artist in her assisted living apartment. It was warm, cozy and inviting. Upon moving in, she had selected memorabilia and furnishings that she loved most to decorate her new home. She passed away last week and I thought about her adult children dutifully cleaning out her apartment. She only left what she loved, and I hope that made her childrens' task easier and more poignant. 

The next time you feel you can't live without that new pair of shoes, or plush home good, or fancy kitchen gadget, consider some quiet contemplation instead. Consider the possibility that now, and in the long run, less just might be more.