Being Brave

Last week I sent an email to someone I'd deliberately lost touch with.
It was brief, but conveyed my message.
Mentally I'd been waving an olive branch for far too long; trying to forgive both parties. Trying to let go.
But I could fool myself no longer.I had to make a move.
Had to let him know.
(After weeks of deliberation and consulting with an enlightened friend, I summoned up my courage and screwed it to the sticking place. )

I waited for a response, certain none would come.
It did.
And we arranged to meet.

............................................................................

We meet for lunch this afternoon.
It was awkward at first, but then things gradually warmed. I may have gushed too much; filling in the space of the past two years.
I was happy and nervous all at once.

I'm trying not to think too much about the future.
What could be.
What will be.
For now, I'm just grateful I acted.
For doing something that scared me.
It was a lesson I needed. A moment of clarity.
A place of immutable truth.

Best Volunteer Gig

It's true. I say it all the time. I have the best volunteer gig. Ever. I'm beyond lucky and this little love affair is going on two years now.

(Photographic evidence of my adoration taken this past weekend.)

We are gearing up for a busy holiday season. (The months I garner the bulk of my volunteer hours.) If you've never been to the USBG during our extended December hours—Tuesday and Thursday nights— you're missing out. Make an early resolution to treat yourself to pure holiday magic. Maybe, more than once!

Feeling Art

A symphony must be like the world. It must contain everything.

Gustav Mahler

Nothing could be more accurate. After hearing the National Symphony Orchestra perform Mahler's 5th Symphony last night, I was reawakened to the inexplicable beauty woven into the masterpiece of each composer.

Music— the expression of what can not otherwise be expressed.

Mahler's adagietto movement was stunning. Then I read the program notes. No wonder. The adagietto was inspired by his meeting and falling in love with the woman he eventually married. At the seasoned age of 41.

I must get to the symphony more often.

Endless Summer Over

Then, just like that, summer morphs into my favorite season.

As leaves turn to pomegranate, hay, and pumpkin I feel a slight warming of my spirit, even as the weather starts to turn. And while I've been mourning the loss of our generous CSA (which suddenly made Wednesday evening a lot more ordinary), I turned my grief into an inaugural batch of butternut squash apple soup— peppered with copious amounts of my new favorite spice, turmeric.

I would like to think this will be my personal season of change. A season for more love and gratitude. For more tolerance of others and self. For more compassion and grace. The process is gradual and is just beginning to bud. In the end, I think it means I'm on the road to becoming a better version of myself. One that I again recognize and truly accept.