Wings
Ready to soar,
Ever powerful.
But first,
Clearing space.
Need room
For a real takeoff.
Joy in flight.
Is imminent.
The Ballad of Lucy Jordan
This song was mentioned to me twice in the span of a week. Maybe I’m living in a vacuum, but I had never heard of it. Not one to ignore such synchronicities, I Google-d the lyrics and found out it was written by Shel Silverstein in 1973. It blew me away, frankly.
“The Ballad of Lucy Jordan”
The morning sun touched lightly on the eyes of lucy jordan
In a white suburban bedroom in a white suburban town
As she lay there ’neath the covers dreaming of a thousand lovers
Till the world turned to orange and the room went spinning round.
At the age of thirty-seven she realised she’d never
Ride through paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair.
So she let the phone keep ringing and she sat there softly singing
Little nursery rhymes she’d memorised in her daddy’s easy chair.
Her husband, he’s off to work and the kids are off to school,
And there are, oh, so many ways for her to spend the day.
She could clean the house for hours or rearrange the flowers
Or run naked through the shady street screaming all the way.
At the age of thirty-seven she realised she’d never
Ride through paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair
So she let the phone keep ringing as she sat there softly singing
Pretty nursery rhymes she’d memorised in her daddy’s easy chair.
The evening sun touched gently on the eyes of lucy jordan
On the roof top where she climbed when all the laughter grew too loud
And she bowed and curtsied to the man who reached and offered her his hand,
And he led her down to the long white car that waited past the crowd.
At the age of thirty-seven she knew she’d found forever
As she rode along through paris with the warm wind in her hair …
Out with the old
There is space and organization all around. A cleaning frenzy has made my closet, indeed, a walk-in again. Bags full of clothes out the door to the homeless. Odds and ends to the local hospital’s thrift shop. Garbage kicked to the curb.
Everything has its place. Clothes are hanging freely from their hangars. Luggage is easily accessed. Hard to believe.
Wheeeee. Light and free. That is me.
Artist date
Sometimes it is just right to come out of my art and indulge myself in someone else’s.
Tonight I saw a friend perform. She is a musician who writes, sings and plays guitar. Her songs are whimsical and reflect her easy personality. She is a breath of fresh air.
Creativity amazes and inspires me so.
Thank you
A good day, but a long one. Left home at 7:20 this morning and just got in about 11 tonight.
Went to visit my sister, brother-in-law and niece, who is so delightful and engaging it warms my heart. En route to my destination, I nestled into a train seat with O magazine and, as usual, just devoured story after story and feature after feature. There are stories with depth mixed in with insightful fashion spreads. Truly fabulous.
As was the feeling of shedding my boots and clothes and jewelry for the cotton PJs with the coffee cups all over them when I got home. The icing was putting my feet into slippers. Oh yeah.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
The dance of coaching
There is so much to be said for life coaching. I have an almost tingly sense of satisfaction after nearly every session. Tonight, though, I did a consultation that blew my mind.
In short, I sat across the table from someone who had an epiphany so profound it will likely change the course of her life. The brilliant simplicity of it kept rolling over her like waves. She was astounded. I was astounded.
It’s all about asking the right questions, knowing when to dig deeper, letting the dialogue breathe. When training to be a coach, we were told again and again to remember the coaching is self-directed. The client knows what she has to do in most cases. We are facilitators, cheerleaders, people to account to and provide insights. They called it the “dance of coaching.”
Tonight I felt like I was doing my best Bob Fosse.
A lesson in giving
I watched Oprah give away houses today. Un-freakin’-believable.
I’ve heard her dissed on so many different fronts throughout the years. Certainly she has her flaws like the rest of us. But you cannot quarrel the woman’s altruism and what she chooses to do with money she has earned. That’s right, earned through hard work, as opposed to stole, inherited or found.
Oprah’s Angel Network, buoyed by her loyal viewers’ contributions, is building a neighborhood in Houston for families displaced by Hurricane Katrina. Today’s show let us in for a peek at families’ reactions to seeing their new homes, fully decorated by Nate Berkus, and stocked with groceries and flowers. My tears were flowing.
And the work continues for more families. The woman is amazing. It was a powerful lesson in giving.
Good scary
I have always been an ambitious sort. So driven. So purposeful. Very directed in my work while staying open to new and interesting things. It’s one of my qualities I’m most proud of.
But lately some things — I’ll call them signs — have taken my ambition up a notch or two or three. Strange how it sometimes creeps up on you but other times just suddenly surrounds you and yells it in your face. I had a lightbulb moment today that, coupled with some other revelations the past two weeks, made me really see. And then another amusing sign showed itself this evening on a random (?) TV program.
It’s one of those directives that comes out of the often elusive (at least for me) stillness and the willingness to listen to it. You’re not going to hear this big stuff over incessant chatter. No siree.
I stopped. I listened. I heard.
I’m intrigued. I’m driven. I’m ready.
Yeeha. I love my own ambition. Scary, isn’t it?
Bargain hunter
I lost myself in Macy’s today. What a treat. That is one big store. I presented myself with the fun challenge of using up some gift card money, combining it with a 15 percent off savings pass and thereby spending very little out of pocket.
The idea was to get one of those soft, silky tops to add a feminine twist to my jeans. They’re all the rage and I’ve wanted one for a while.
Mission accomplished.
I tried on a handful and finally found a pretty blue silk one with a sweet floral print. It looks good, feels very sexy.
Sometimes there’s nothing like a good purchase.
New York, New York
A really good day in the city despite the cold:
Heard an inspirational message at church service, one that reminded me that the way we wake up and go about our day will in fact determine our day. Powerful.
Received a copy of her book from a former client, who wrote a wonderful message to me inside.
Brunched with two smart, fun guys at Vynl, a place with a lively atmosphere and a delicious vegetable fritatta. Particularly enjoyed the Elvis bathroom, where I was serenaded by My Way as I did my business.
Watched a couple of documentaries at MOMA, one of which was written, directed and produced by a former co-worker. How proud and inspired I was to see her splendid work.
Came out to the buzz and glitter of Fifth Avenue and found it uplifting.
All in all, a good day.
