Signs Say--Listen to Your Heart Singing

I’ve spent my share of dollars on palm readers, the sketchiest one in some woman’s living room in Minneapolis.  As much as I loved the entertainment factor I still listened with a captivated ear to get a glimpse of the future, a mere hint of how I should move forward.  I’m a sucker for signs in our cosmic universe helping me explain events and decisions.  Even five years ago I caved in to saying “yes” to making a move to central Florida for my husband’s career.  What pushed me over the edge?  Driving to the food store and seeing two Florida license plates here in Pennsylvania.  I squinted at those sunny oranges, then looked to the skies and said out loud, “Wow, this HAS to be a sign from above.”*

Since I’m a seasoned soul now…should I still seek signs when making decisions?  Or should I rely on my acquired “wisdom”—(a term used loosely)-- mixed with my gut feelings?

Growing up I was the person who would listen to the radio for inspiration about how my life would unfold, wondering if a secret crush would amount to anything by what song came on my pastel radio—a little “Just a Friend” by Biz Markie vs. Roxette’s “It Must Have Been Love.”  Later in life I admit to reading an ex-boyfriend’s horoscope to glean what he was up to.  Especially that I’m a Capricorn, I should be level-headed, right? 

In this decade when so many distractions obscure our thoughts, (astrological or otherwise), maybe we should be contemplating less and feeling more.  Ignore the noisy external signs that mold our thinking.  Better yet—don’t even search for them.  That’s right—take the time to embrace some quiet and stillness so we can listen to our own hearts for guidance.  Carving out those minutes without life’s static can be done.  One of my friends awakes an hour before her kids so she can enjoy her coffee and start the day on her terms.  Other ideas: go for a solo walk after dinner, make your kids do an hour of quiet time in their rooms, drive without turning on the radio.  If something bothers me I retreat to the tranquility of my bedroom and write in my journal.

Remember:  anything in life can be justified; it’s all how people frame their choices.  I get that.  But when making decisions or wondering why stuff is happening—know that life is full of coincidences.  Sometimes reading messages in innocent indicators can do more harm than good.  Rather, look inside and listen to yourself.  Get a gut feel for a warning.  Feel what brings you most joy.  Instead of figuring out the SIGNs we should be taking note of what makes our hearts SING.

* As a post script: we ended up not moving to Florida in 2008, which, to this day, I chalk up to a miracle and having faith in our destiny.  I'm glad the day my husband had to sign our moving papers I didn’t hear Natasha Bedingfield sing, “Take me away” in her song, “Pocketful of Sunshine.”  I will share—that afternoon my entire being exhaled a sigh of relief because staying in Pennsylvania felt right and made me incredibly happy.

Our Own Mile Markers...When Have You Felt Validated? A Look Back

In September we stood as a family at the 0 Mile Marker statue in the beautiful city of Richmond, Virginia.  It wasn’t the first time in my life I’ve noticed one of those signs capturing the distance from some point to another, but I wondered, who the heck really cares about the distance in miles? 

That gray, literal “milestone” in the heart of Richmond made me think of life’s journey.  What mile markers in our own lives stand out?  Can we take anything from those moments when we’ve felt like we arrived?  That we were validated? 

Recently an almost 60 year-old woman looked at me and asked, “Why do you have such a problem with 40?”  To be clear—I don’t have any issue turning 40 or being “Over the Hill.”  Every passing milestone/age carries its own weight.  I decided to map some of my own age markers when I truly felt older, looking back at significant years and their implications for me.  Maybe you can relate.

Age 9: It was the last year before double digits, which I’d be for the rest of my life.  I felt too old to wear pigtails.

13: A teenager.  Why was I the only 7^th grader without braces?  I’d have to wait until 9^th grade, way past their cool factor. 

16:  Sweet sixteen and never been kissed, that accurate sing-song cliché.  Couldn’t wait for my driver’s license and the freedom/responsibility along with it. 

18: High school graduation.  Knowing full-well that the special “John Hughes in my own mind” era was over and being excited about the college years ahead. 

21:  Fond memories of dear college friends celebrating a rite of passage that included some drinks laced with Bailey’s and amaretto liquor.

23:  Landing my first “real” job in Boston.  Switching to a Massachusetts driver’s license and car plates--thinking that I was all grown up because I did so.  Renting a 3^rd floor walk-up apartment in the Italian North End.  Monthly walks to the laundromat with my oversized duffel bag of dirty clothes.

25:  On my actual birthday I carried an extra bounce in my step because I thought that co-workers/clients would look at me and somehow read my “not just graduated from college age” on my face and treat me with more seriousness and respect.  

26:  Meeting my husband.  At a bar.  Technically it was a networking event.  Obviously we were networking for other reasons than drumming up business.

28:  Marrying.  Feeling very grown up dressed in ivory with a carefully made-up face and styled hair while helping my grandmother put on her stockings. 

30:  Becoming a mom.  At 5 AM requesting to see my daughter, (who spent the night in the nursery), just so I could look at her in awe, not believing I was now responsible for this completely dependent little person.

31:  Buying our first house—so excited to create a home. 

32:  Giving birth to my first son.  Note—I didn’t request to have his bassinet rolled into my room at 5 AM, instead opting for more rest.

33: Began teaching at the graduate level.  Loving the inspiration provided by my students and colleagues.

34: Meeting my always happy second son.

37: Treating my hospital stay and birth of my third son as a Bed and Breakfast retreat—bringing books to read and enjoying the peace and quiet—of a hospital—over the demands of being home. 

39:  Embarking on this blog to discover the joys and uncertainties of getting older.

What will 40 have in store, besides a slower metabolism?  Not sure yet.  But I encourage everyone, at any age, to look back with a sense of your own wonder at the significant steps, and perhaps missteps, you’ve taken to get to your current mile marker.  The distance traveled does matter.  It takes endurance, some heartbreak, joyous moments, real responsibility, some inertia, and lots of learning to grow older.  Write it down, look at old pictures, and celebrate your own journey. Age may be just a number—but remember, it all counts. 

If Not Now, When?

Hands down, the Barbie yellow camper ranks as one of my favorite childhood presents.  It took me hours to put the stickers on the plastic pieces.  It even had a little seat so I could ride on top of it.  One warm day after it rained I took that banana beast outside and pretended that the doll family was on vacation, skipping their shoeless feet in the puddles, wondering if one day I would take my own family on a dream trip like the pretend one in the driveway. 

So it’s no wonder that two weeks ago I picked up a yachting magazine at a dentist’s office and thought the exact same thing—would I ever live a glamorous life and travel as depicted?  When I flipped to the article entitled “If Not Now, When?” I almost choked.  Could this be a sign to head to the Mediterranean and cruise on a big boat?  I’m no Sheila E, so the glamorous life is out of the picture, but it does beg the question:  how much do you save up now to live a richer life later?   Is it irresponsible to take risks especially when the financial stakes are high?  The answer is “yes” to buying a yacht I can’t afford, but it gets a little blurry when discussing a family vacation or investing in home improvement projects. 

And it’s not just financial decisions that are easily postponed… volunteering at a children’s hospital, taking African dance lessons, trying a new career, sending unpublished books to publishers.  The back burner used to feel far away, but in reality that flame could burn me it’s so close.  I remember in my twenties feeling relieved that Julia Child was 49 when she first published Mastering the Art of French Cooking and that Judy Blume began writing when her kids were in preschool.  Somehow knowing that other women became successful professionally later in life gave me a grace period.   I always felt I had time.

But my clock is ticking, and it’s not that clock. 

I think of the common excuses for not taking the plunge, any plunge:

• I can’t afford it
• I don’t have the time
• It’s unrealistic
• It’s not a good time

But are they mere excuses costumed as avoidance?  I have found that whenever I have stuck out my neck and taken a risk—it’s always been better than sitting with regret.  Even if nothing substantial came of it.  At least I can feel solace with trying.  No matter what—we gain something, even if it’s just perspective, a new friend, or a conversation starter—whether we fail or succeed. 

During this next decade I vow to take my time, and I don’t mean by being patient and detail-oriented.  I mean I will literally take time-- grab it, reserve it, seize it, and use it.  About fifteen years ago in Boston I stumbled upon a now nameless travel book whose foreword’s quotation said something like, “The only trips I regret are the ones I didn’t take.”  That sentiment rings through my mind whenever I question spending money on a purchase or an experience I know I would value.  The same holds true when considering whether to take a risk or try something new.  I may not be luxe-y enough for yachting, but I am fortunate for many other real opportunities. 

We older gals can do anything, right, Barbie?  And I mean, right now.