My mother always marveled that I was the only child in the world who could make mudpies without getting dirty.

For hours I would create (literally) earthly delights adorned with bits of confetti from Queen Anne’s lace topped with the tiniest pink wild roses from our bush in the side yard.

Pebbles circled the pastries, placed on platters of leaves.

ANOTHER THRILL WAS TO RUMAGE IN OUR DRESSMAKER, MRS COBB’S REMNANT BOX FOR SCRAPS OF VELVET, ORGANDY AND RIBBON TO DESIGN CLOTHES FOR MY SHIRLEY TEMPLE DOLL!

IT WAS SO SWEET TO INHALE THE SCENT OF MY HANDMADE CLOVER NECKLACE AS I LAY ON MY BACK IN THE GRASS OBSERVING THE SHIFTING PATTERNS OF CLOUDS. WHAT MAGIC TO MAKE THEM GROW SMALLER AND DISAPPEAR, SIMPLY BY CONCENTRATING ON THEM.

HARDWIRED INTO CHILDREN ARE THE INSTINCT AND ABILITY TO MAKE MUSIC FROM POTS AND PANS, CASTLES FROM CARDBOARD BOXES, COLLAGES FROM BALLS OF BRIGHT YARN HELD IN PLACE BY BITS OF FLOUR AND WATER FOR GLUE.

Gradually this gift dissipates as we are carefully taught to color between the lines AND THINK WITHIN OUR BOXES.

So what a treat it was to attend a playshop hosted by my friend and playmate Debra Rapoport, at MAD, the Museum of Art and Design.

Here we were, grandmothers, mothers and daughters alike, invited to make summer jewelry from goodies displayed on a large table, overflowing with rope, plastic hoops, glittery balls and whatever recycled findings Debra could conjure.

Debra was wearing a one-of-a-kind taupe capelet that was originally a broken umbrella, so I made her a lavaliere of taupe and teal rags knotted to shiny turquoise rings!  
QUELLE CHIC!!! 

Debra and I are friends of Ari Seth Cohen and appear on his blogspot: AdvancedStyle.com. Ari is the Ziegfield of the Senior Set – glorifying grey-haired (or color-enhanced) fashionistas. And Fashionistos?

I had long wanted to try writing a blog – Ari’s site was an inspiration for UniqueU.

Thanks, Debra and Ari.

EVERY ADULT HAS AN INNER CHILD YEARNING FOR FREEDOM, FUN AND FANTASY. LET’S RESTORE AND RENEW THIS ALMOST LOST ART.

COME OUT AND PLAY!!!

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Intro: Retaining and/or regaining the wonder and openness of childhood.

Terry McLaughlin just turned ninety. She is known to her family and friends as Tootsie Belle. For good reason.

She would rather dance than walk.

 She would rather laugh than complain.
and
She can do a trumpet rendition of “Sugar Blues” without a trumpet.

 Her daughter, my friend Irene, celebrated the occasion by throwing a party today.

Irene is a party girl too, joining Tootsie for a trumpetless duet of “Sugar Blues.”

Louis Armstrong would have loved it!

Looking smart in a black and white print top, accessorized with plenty of bling, her hair coiffed and make-up just so, Tootsie reigned serene and supreme. When someone asked the secret of her constant, calm persona, she said:

I JUST GO WITH THE FLOW

Easy you think? Blessed with a great personality? Life has been kind to her?”

NOT ENTIRELY

Tootsie Belle raised ten children alone after she was widowed in her early forties. Her husband traveled a lot after settling his brood on a farm in Connecticut. Tootsie’s a city girl – laughingly she told us how she had no one but her kids to talk to for days, even weeks on end. So she had conversations with the chickens and livestock. 

Tootsie is basically rootless, spending time with Irene and her siblings. The amazing thing is how welcome she always is.

It’s not rocket science. Tootsie simply exudes great vibes – sort of like the Pied Piper, people are drawn to her energy, loving to be around her.

After drinks and food – oh, she relishes a good merlot – one of the guests videotaped each of us as we paid individual homage and told highlights of our experiences with Tootsie as an offspring, grandchild or friend.

It would have been great to have a Mom as easy going as Tootsie. Irene’s sister, Christina was sent home from parochial school for not wearing her uniform – Tootsie hadn’t had time to do laundry. Tootsie asked Christina what she was doing at home; after hearing the reason, Tootsie said “Oh well, just stay home.”

In the afterglow of an afternoon sharing such camaraderie and warm fuzzies, I can only say “Amen!” in agreement with whoever observed:

IT’S NOT THE YEARS IN YOUR LIFE; IT’S THE LIFE IN YOUR YEARS!

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Most of us, at some time or other, have, in a moment of genuine confusion, asked: 

Am I doing something that is producing conditions in my life that I don’t want?

A phone call last night triggered this line of thought – and provided the subject of this week’s blog.

Someone close to me - a younger person who pushes all my buttons, inquired if she could stay with me when she visited New York.
I replied: “Yes, if you don’t drive me crazy!”

She wanted to know what she had done to cause my anger.

DUH???  HOW COULD SHE NOT KNOW??? 

As kindly as possible I told her that, in return for my hospitality, I expected to be treated with courtesy, consideration, appreciation and respect.

Later I recalled an apparently unrelated incident that occurred when I was in my early twenties, floundering in my first job as an art studio director and terrified that I would be fired.

Out of desperation, figuring I had nothing to lose, I blurted to my boss, when he questioned my ability to lead my staff of artists.

“IT’S LIKE THE BLIND LEADING THE BLIND!”

Is it possible that, out of ignorance, born of programming, inexperience and oblivion, one can be authentically unaware of the seemingly obvious?

Albert Einstein famously said:

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

and

No problem can be solved from the same level of consciousness that created it.

NOW FOR THE RESOLUTION OF TODAY’S DILEMMA

I told my younger challenger, whom I felt was sincerely looking for insight, that I would be happy to discuss any situation in depth, so long as the talk resulted in fair examination and positive action.

As for my decades ago confrontation with my boss, he wisely decided not to throw out the baby with the bath water and became my mentor – and lover.

ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL!

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We all know the feeling: nerves ajar, thoughts in a jumble, actions uncertain.

 We also know the remedies: play with your pet, walk in the park, journal, soak in a bubble bath, etc.etc.etc.

 It all helps, at least a little, part of the time.

IT IS SAID THAT WHATEVER WE FOCUS ON, INCREASES.

Yell at a kid having a tantrum and the screams grow louder.

Go on a diet and thoughts of food devour the mind.

 Try to keep your hands off of an itching, healing scab.

Maybe it’s good to step back - gain a little perspective?

My frazzled state of being this weekend sent me to see “Tree of Life”, an ambitious two-and-a-half hour tome to Creation – and the Creator.

Moving slowly (but magnificently) from the Big Bang through the primordial emergence of life, we arrive in Texas, circa 1950’s.

 There we eavesdrop on a functional/dysfunctional/loving/resentful family that began with Adam and Eve.

Adam (Brad Pitt) and Eve (Jessica Chastain) have three sons. We are allowed to glimpse their eternal dramas, mostly through the eyes of the eldest boy (newcomer Hunter McCracken in youth and Sean Penn in maturity).

Always the panorama moves between pain and joy, love and anger, decay and rebirth.

Always the forces of good and evil emerge, alternating in a dance of constant change, choreographed by the Master.

The Paradox never ends – only the variety, richness and essence of experience forever mimics itself in infinite forms. 

SO TODAY I AM SAD – TOMORROW MAY OVERFLOW WITH POSSIBILITY.

TODAY NO WORDS COME – A FOUNTAIN MAY ERUPT WITHOUT WARNING IN THE MORNING.

YESTERDAY’S LOSS MAY RESURFACE AS THE MOST PRECIOUS GIFT OF A LIFETIME.

THREE AXIMS YOU CAN TAKE TO THE BANK:

CHAOS PRECEEDS ORDER

  BREAKDOWN PRECEEDS BREAKTHROUGH

HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF

UNLESS I REALIZE THAT THE PAST IS CRYING OUT FOR LOVE, ACCEPTANCE AND FORGIVENESS.

UNLESS I KNOW UNCONDITIONALLY THAT AS CYCLES REPEAT, THEIR VIBRATIONS CAN RISE.

UNLESS I RAISE THE BAR OF MY OWN RESPOSIBILITY FOR THE WHOLE HOLY MESS.

Near the film’s end, the screen is filled with a field of glowing, golden sunflowers.

I get goosebumps as the flowers turn their faces toward the sun, giver of Life.

AT THE END OF TIME, AND THE MOVIE, PEOPLE OF ALL THE AGES ASSEMBLE PEACEFULLY ON A BEACH.

By practicing the principles of love, their hearts were changed - allowing them to live in harmony.

I AM BEDAZZLED!

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Have you noticed that there are many seemingly random minor incidents/encounters which, looking back, produced radical change in the direction of your future? 

Yesterday a friend and I saw the just opened to rave reviews Woody Allen movie ‘Midnight in Paris.”

 It was more fun than I’ve had at a film since – well, Woody’s last flick “You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger.”

 In it the hero, Luke Wilson, channeling a young Woody Allen – mouthing his words, body language and attitude – enters a vintage limo as bells ring at the stroke of midnight in contemporary Paris. He joins Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald and Earnest Hemingway as they magically romp around Paris in the Roaring Twenties.

Enchanted, he continues to abandon his Hollywood fiancé and her parents at the witching hour to enter an alternate universe reflecting his fondest dreams.

 

 Interacting with his heroes.

Living his ideal life.

 Changing his “reality”.

 

The film triggered a childhood experience which harbingered my future.

  One of my first and all-time favorite books was “Jiji Lou, the Story of a Cast-Off Doll”, by Lurine Bowles Mayol.

The lead characters, Jiji Lou, a ragged rag doll, and Nibs, a broken china dog, deemed unfit for the nursery, are tossed in the trash. Their journey begins. I read and reread the story, treasuring every word until the dog-eared book, along with its subjects, was left behind during a family move.

But the characters lived on in their own context, rescued, restored to wholeness and brand-new dramas.

 We reconnected after a search of many decades - that’s right – no internet. I got a copy, mint condition, through the Alpha-Bet Bookshop in Connecticut and the book's original owner, Betty Lovell. Thank you!

 All those years didn’t diminish or dim the impact of discovery that life changes, moving literally through many “realities”, or universes.

Jiji Lou evolved from outcast to caregiver of a host of orphaned baby dolls, nurturing and giving them comfort, love and new wardrobes.

 Nibs got a new leg.

I eventually moved from Kentucky to North Carolina to New York, literally Alternate Universes.

 THIS LIFE, STARTING AS SMALL-TOWN DAYDREAMER AND BOOKWORM, PLAYS OUT AS HEROINE OF MY OWN UNIQUE  JOURNEY.

 Jiji Lou started it all...she remains my northstar.

As Yogi Berra famously noted:

 "WHEN YOU COME TO A FORK IN THE ROAD, TAKE IT!"

AFTER ALL, SINCE WE DONT KNOW WHERE WE'RE GOING, ANY ROAD WILL GET US THERE.

 

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The name of my first image consulting enterprise in the 1980s was “Impeccable Images”. I got the idea from the teachings of a woman who talked - impeccably - about the subject without walking the walk.

 Soon after, I dropped the label because - think about it - how intimidating! Who can attain, much less maintain, flawlessness? 

ALL THE SPRAY IN A MALL WON’T HELP HAIR IN A RAGING STORM. 

NOTHING SHORT OF DESTRUCTION CAN SHATTER A MANNEQUIN’S SERENE PLASTIC EXTERIOR AND CUTTING EDGE WARDROBE. 

EXCEPT TIME, AGE AND OBSOLESCENCE!

Impeccability implies: “look but don’t touch”

 Media marketing is targeted to provoke envy, dissatisfaction, even self-loathing with its promise of perfection with the purchase of a “magic” power or product. 

Unfortunately, life cannot be staged, rewritten or air-brushed. No gym, regime or pill can stave off entropy, one definition of which is “the degradation of the matter and energy in the universe to an ultimate state of inert uniformity.” 

OH SHUCKS! - SO WHAT’S THE USE OF TRYING?
 

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus! 

Projecting a pleasing presentation can produce: 

 Smiles on the faces of an audience. 

A shift in the energy of a hostile room. 

Encouragement to a passerby. 

There’s something comforting in the idea of pleasure contained in impermanence, of order inherent in chaos, of improvement no matter how fleeting. 

Builders of sand castles, creators of ice sculptures, manufacturers of birthday balloons know this. 

LIFE IS LIMITLESS EVER-CHANGING POTENTIAL 

Museums are archives of history, frozen until entropy inevitably takes over. 

Humans also eventually die and decay. Legacies testify to personal impermanence though benefits of contributions may endure for centuries. 

Even the Roman Empire, the Mayas and Atlantis are but echoes and imprints. 

Sublime art, literature and music enrich and delight generations – but what of the symphony of the spheres? Celestial music welcomed the supreme creation of the universe and will endure throughout eternity. 

 

WHAT IF THAT WERE TRUE OF MANKIND’S SPIRIT?

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Memory might be the ultimate recording device, predating Edison, the printing press and stories told round the campfire by moonlight. What seems new has its roots in history, buried in a time capsule and resurrected in real-time formats.

 All mental health professionals, whatever their specialty/expertise, appear to agree on this axiom:

 NO ONE REPEATS AN ACTION UNLESS THERE IS SOME DESIRED REWARD, NEGATIVE OR POSITIVE, RECOGNIZED OR NOT, AS ITS CONSEQUENCE.

 Witness a mouse in endless pursuit of non-existant cheese at the end of a tunnel.

 Insanity is repeating an action over and over expecting a different result.

 The accumulation of memory replayed results in programming, useful in tivo-ing “Dancing With the Stars”- or taking piano lessons.

 

 In the mid 1990’s, when the nation was dealing with massive welfare issues, many recipients were poorly schooled, unmarried mothers.

 

 As a divorced single mom I reared two children alone, without alimony, not realizing it couldn’t be done (being able to see through glass ceilings). But I was educated and talented. Knowing that less fortunate women were bound only by patterns of parenting and politics, I founded a nonprofit organization to offer hands-up assistance, training and new interview outfits.

 In our workshops at SuitAbility, we gave each participant a copy of this powerful piece.

 AUTOBIOGRAPHY in FIVE SHORT CHAPTERS
by Portia Nelson 
 

1

I WALK DOWN THE STREET.

THERE IS A DEEP HOLE IN THE SIDEWALK.

I FALL IN.

IAM LOST…IAM HELPLESS.

IT ISN’T MY FAULT.

IT TAKES FOREVER TO FIND A WAYOUT.

 

2

 I WALK DOWN THE SAME STREET.

THERE IS A DEEP HOLE IN THE SIDEWALK.

I PRETEND I DON’T SEE IT.

I FALL IN AGAIN.

I CAN’T BELIEVE I AM IN THE SAME PLACE.

BUT IT ISN’T MY FAULT.

IT STILL TAKES A LONG TIME TO GET OUT.

 

3

 I WALK DOWN THE SAME STREET.

THERE IS A DEEP HOLE IN THE SIDEWALK.

I SEE IT IS THERE.

I STILL FALL IN…IT’S A HABIT.

MY EYES ARE OPEN.

I KNOW WHERE I AM.

IT IS MY FAULT.

I GET OUT IMMEDIATELY.

 

4

 I WALK DOWN THE SAME STREET

THERE IS A DEEP HOLE IN THE SIDEWALK.

I WALK AROUND IT.

 

 5

 I WALK DOWN ANOTHER STREET.

 

..

 

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Having dinner with a friend recently, the word "coping" cropped up in the conversation while discussing – well – coping with life’s challenges.

Instantly the words "coping is copping out" came out of my mouth, causing my friend to demand an explanation.

 

ONLY THEN DID I BEGIN TO “THINK” ABOUT IT, TRYING TO JUSTIFY AN APPARENTLY ARBITRARY, EVEN CAPRICIOUS REMARK.

 

Substitution/Sidetracking/Sublimation – were these synonyms for “coping’? Like avoiding the real issue?

 These were ideas that I toyed with. 

Then I remembered language that my late friend and significant other used when teaching me early computer skills. 

Ira said that there were two ways to deal with a balky computer: 

QUICK AND DIRTY  

This method usually worked to get past the problem, bypassing it in favor of getting the thing operating again by whatever device sufficed.

 ELEGANT 

This method meant getting to the root of the malfunction – radical surgery to replace a band-aid. 

 

Eventually I went to Webster’s, which stated that there is a connection between the words “cope” and “covering”; both refer to an ecclesiastical vestment used to envelop the body. A secondary definition is a contest or combat in order to maintain or come to terms with problems, including success. 

 

AHA! COVER-UP!!! 

 

Psychologically it is simpler to hide rather than seek. Especially concerning matters that require more than a cursory look. Even Pandora was appalled at what she found in her opened box.

  

So it’s a choice: QUICK & DIRTY or ELEGANT. Sweep it under the carpet or get out the vacuum. 

 

Even spirituality can be used as concealment: applying the balm of soothing rituals to ease the agony of confusion and fear. 

Passing the buck is another option: the devil made me do it! The dog ate my homework! 

 

APPLYING MAKEUP MAY HIDE A BLEMISH BUT WON’T HEAL IT.  

ONLY UNDER THE LIGHT OF TRUTH WILL CAUSE BE REVEALED.  

THEN HARMONY CAN BE RESTORED. 

 

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There must be something hardwired into humans that likes inventive ways of vocal expression. Somewhere I read that the three most basic ways of learning are Rhythm, Rhyme and Repetition 

 

 We respond instinctively to sing-song-y spell-binding stories told to us in childhood:

   “Fi-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman!”

 “Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jump over the candlestick!”

 “Mary, Mary quite contrary”

 

We never outgrow our love for the pop tunes we grew up listening to in adolescence, whether on the radio, juke box, cassettes, or downloaded media.

 

The Great American Songbook

Jazz

The Beatles

Motown/Blues

Elvis/Jimi Hendrix

Madonna/Lady Gaga

 

Always aligned with Rhythm, Rhyme and Repetition is the lilt and lyricism of:

 

 ALLITERATION

 Could poetry literally mean a poet trying to put words to an inner music?

 Can words convey deep truths in a gentle, non-threatening way?

 

“Perched on a pedestal woman is powerless.

Is that why a patriarchal society placed her there?

At work in the world, she may become wonderful, witty and wise”

 

Water, the softest substance, over time, will smooth the sharpest stone.

 

 WORDS WITHIN WORDS

 Shout contains out.

 Knew contains new; Know, now

 

Practicing the process of these alliterative words can be life-changing!

 

 GRATITUDE

 Just being grateful for anything and everything honors and accepts without judgment.

 

GUIDANCE

Now that there is no judgment, Gratitude is free to open the door to Guidance from God.

 

GRACE

 Grace cannot be courted, won or deserved. When right action occurs as a result of resonance with the Highest Self, this is an authentic Gift from God.

 

SAY THANK YOU AND ENJOY! 

 

 IF WORDS CAN SING CAN DANCE BE FAR BEHIND?

  

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During the summer of 2010, a dear friend and I both lost our only sisters.

In both cases the sibling relationship was less than sisterly.

My sister, Ellie, was two years my junior. I still don’t know what I did to her except get born sooner – and oh yes, I was mother’s favorite. Green is the color of envy. (Being a favorite is a mixed blessing – there’s more pressure to live up to expectations.) 

My friend’s sister was a few years older than she, and of a manipulative, argumentative nature. 

Both sisters suffered debilitating and challenging illnesses, the details of which are not essential.
 

THAT’S THE BACKSTORY
 

After Ellie and her husband moved to Florida, we didn’t see much of each other. I did what I could to be encouraging via long distance – dispensing cards, books and mostly unsolicited advice. 

Our sense of separation continued unhealed past her demise. 

Then one night I dreamed of her. In the dream she was as open as she had been closed in life. She seemed to be seeking the peace that still eluded her so I suggested that she dress herself in clouds of pink. 

Instantly we were both flooded with the love that we could have shared during her lifetime. Better late than never.   

During her sister’s illness, my friend was her sole caregiver. She remained as resistant as ever until they visited her doctor together.

Her sister’s abdomen was so swollen that she wore the only thing that fit – a pink tee shirt and sweat pants. 

Something suddenly shifted. Instead of their strained relationship, my friend was flooded with warm feelings – happy to serve. Her sister responded with heart-felt gratitude. 

As a parting gift, she gave her sister a small pink quartz egg – which is the stone of love and healing. She clutched it as she died. 

 

This morning my friend and I spoke of the continuing losses we are experiencing, particularly at this transitional time of life. We agreed that perhaps parting from the past paves the way for new, bright beginnings.   

 

BY LIVING LOVINGLY, WE HONOR THOSE WHO HAVE MOVED INTO PURE LIGHT!

 

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