THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER…

 

JULY 29^th, 1981

Twenty-four years ago today, a prince married his bride, and she became Diana, Princess of Wales.

The prince still lives. His princess was discarded and later died. The prince became a king with his Queen Consort being the lady he discarded his fairy princess for, and the kingdom replaced their affection for the royal family with the next generation of princes and their wives.

 

If you’re old enough to have lived through the hullabaloo that was the royal wedding of Charles and Diana, you might remember that, to all but the most cynical, it evoked the fairytales we were raised on.

 

We still read these tales to young people. We cling inwardly to their endings whenever we attend weddings. We who write stories, still write endings with “ever after” allusions.

 

Looking back on that day in history, we know how that fairytale ended. I wonder if we are preparing young people for real life if we keep telling stories that never acknowledge that a wedding day is but the opening chapter. It opens the real story of hard work and struggles yielding one’s single state to thinking and being a couple.

 

It was a grand wedding. The dress, the parade, the carriage, the waves from the balcony. But it was the first chapter, not the last.

IDENTIFY the NEGATING VOICE

 

Years ago, when I first began writing in earnest, DH gave me the gift of Nancy Lamb’s book, The Writer's Guide to Crafting Stories for Children. It turned out to be the best beginners guide, not least because of a chapter that suggested talking back to the negative inner voice  relentlessly repeating that you are audacious and delusional to think you can create anything of quality.

 

I recognized that voice and knew who it belonged to. Nancy Lamb gave me permission to talk back to it, something I barely managed in real life.

 

A few months back, Anne Carley’s post on Jane Friedman’s blog echoed the same sentiment, only there, the suggestion was to interview this voice. It goes beyond identifying the parent, relative, teacher, or frenemy— whose voice it is. Ms. Carley suggests engaging with and speaking to this voice in order to unpack the baggage.

 

Both are great suggestions. If you find yourself admonishing inwardly the effort to do, create and strive, know this isn’t you. *YOU* wouldn’t be doing this to *YOU*, because this goes against nature. This voice came from someone else. That was then.  If it continues to come, ask it questions and then tell it it’s done its job and now it’s time to go away.

 

Then go do what you know you can do, because you can.

DEADLINES SET BY OTHERS

 

One of the pitfalls of staying in school for many years is the dependence on deadlines set by others.

 

What, you might be saying, is wrong with that? It’s a preparation for work life in general and makes John and Jill good boys and girls. Right?

 

But here’s my take. It also creates a dependence on others to get things done.

I know writers who sign up for writing challenges and join groups that insist on certain timed output. I know musicians who need competitions to get them going on learning new repertoire and practice . I know painters who need a set exhibit date to complete a set number of new works, etc.

 

Without this external pacing, many people just fall apart and lose the map. The trail becomes blurry and a sense of being lost takes over only to deepen unless they latch on to yet another organizer who gives them deadlines once again.

 

I have come to see it differently. It took reaching my late twenties before I got that monkey off my back. I learned what pace works for me and why only this way of working sets me free.

 

Sure, I meet deadlines all the time. But I don’t need them to create.

 

You won’t find me anywhere near NaNoWriMo or the 12 by12 challenge and their ilk. Maybe because I didn’t stay in school as long as many I know, I don’t need this sort of assigned homework. Life tells me when I’m needed, and I tell my days what I need from them in return.

WE ALL NEED A HORSE SOMETIMES

 

I had a friend who was prone to bouts of depression. She was one of the most talented and brave people I have ever known. Still, waves of self-doubt and despair would sweep over her now and then. Modern medicine’s pharmaceutical solutions only made these waves deeper and fiercer.

 

In the depth of one of these episodes, she had a vivid dream. In it, she rode a horse and her spirit soared. She woke up and remembered that as a child she not only rode horses regularly, but had lessons in dressage, and it always centered her spiritually. Those were happy times, and she had somehow forgotten all about them.

 

My friend bought a horse. Her horse was housed in a saddlery nearby. He was an older horse who had been neglected.  Dressage was no longer on her horse’s menu. But my friend went on to ride him and even knitted him a special blanket. Caring for him, brushing him, and going on country trails together healed them both.

 

I’m no horse woman, but my friend’s healing informed me also. There are times when what is needed is remembrance of simpler happier times, and revival of what made them so. For me it’s a good cup of coffee with a loved one. My father used to take me to European style cafes that proliferated in West Jerusalem, and we’d sit and talk. We could do this at home, but it was not the same.

This ritual is my horse.

There’s the tale of the knight who comes to the rescue on a white horse. Some say the Messiah will be riding a white horse to the gates of Jerusalem. We all need a horse now and then.

DECENCY is about SHOWING UP

 

I’ve heard the saying, “Love shows up.”

I’m going to lower the bar here and not address love, but just elemental decency between people.

 

Some time ago, our hot water heater broke. In the dead of winter, we only had cold water until this could be remedied, which took a few days. I, in need of a shower, asked the next-door neighbor if it would be possible to shower at their house. Neighbor said, “Sure.”

A few hours later, I called to ask if it was convenient right then. Next-door neighbor got the message (message apps tell you this) and read it (message apps tell you that, also) and then, to be sure it wasn’t a single miscommunication I sent a text on another app we had communicated on as well when neighbor needed something from us.

 

And…

 

I was ghosted. Not a “not right now,” or “I’m not home,” (neighbor was home, as they are next door, so we can see them) or even “my shower is in bad shape,” though next-door neighbor has at least two full bathrooms.

 

I thought about the countless times this neighbor has asked us for help, assistance, tools to borrow, jobs neighbor had difficulty with and more. A hundred times would be an underestimate. We always helped promptly. It’s not that we are exceptionally good people, we just practice being decent. Until then, we had never asked Neighbor for anything.

 

I was ghosted by a neighbor whom I can plainly see from my window. To this day, not a mention of this, and I’m not bringing it up. Neighbor has shown what sort of neighbor and human they are.

 

I thought about another friend from long ago who opted to ghost, then showed up years later as if nothing had happened.

 

I think basic decency itself should propel anyone not to do this. Any reply, even one that says “I need space” or “I’m sorry but I’m in a funk” or “this isn’t working for me”--- ANYTHING, while not a happy response and requires a version of showing up, is more decent.

 

Time passed, and I remained polite with Neighbor. When next neighbor asked for something, I said, “Yes,” and did it. But my smile is gone.

 

Show up, people. Show up. Don’t leave anybody in your life high and dry.