London Adventures Part Two: Listening

Waking up to sirens, cars and the general hustle and bustle of a large city is something I hadn’t done in almost fifteen years.  I stayed in a Victorian house comprised of eight rooms and shared kitchens, bath and laundry.  Noise and activity were constant but not irritating.  It was recalibration of sorts, the re-acclimating to a busy life.  I found myself lying in bed in the mornings, listening to the footsteps on the stairs from above and below, writing the stories of their owners’ lives in my head.  But after the footsteps quieted and I procured a morning cup of tea, I would ready myself for the wide world of London. 

Some days I had an agenda and other days I wandered.  Literally, I would walk or get on a bus or take the Tube until something looked interesting.  An alley way, a café, a shop, a park bench…I never knew what would lure me but something always did.  The buildings of London are my eye candy.  I’m an architecture junkie.  The shape, the soul, the color, the material, the detail, the story, it all makes my heart sing.  Cities around the world tell their histories in their buildings and design.  From worn cobbles to beautiful granite curbs to lampposts, every city will tell you a story if you look closely.  And London has recreated itself a million times over.  Her stories are never ending.

The noise of London is interesting.  In some areas you couldn’t have a conversation on the street and in others you almost forget you’re in one of the largest metropolitan areas in the world.  I love that.  The ability to be overwhelmed or tucked away all in the same place.  In the neighborhood I stayed in, the East End, the pub, of course, was a place of congregation.  Unlike the small, warm country pubs I was accustomed to when I lived in the U.K., my “local” was large and eclectic.  In its past lives it had been both a theatre and a church.  A large glass wall let in light and gave it a distinctive urban feel.  But it was a local neighborhood pub, after all, and conversations were never in short supply.  Being so near a university the crowd was diverse both in age and in ethnicity.  Any manner of discussion could be had for someone like me who asks a lot of questions or asks just enough to sit back and enjoy the answers.  Like all good pubs, my local was a living room, an office, a recreational retreat, a bar and for many, myself included, a kitchen where a warm meal was always at the ready.

To be sure, I met and talked with many new and interesting people in my month away.  Some I will call friends from now on, looking forward to our next chat.  Others will forever be funny characters or anecdotes I recall will humor.  But the stories I recall most vividly now that I’m away are the ones who were told with no real voice at all.  The sights, the sounds, the feelings, the whispers, the energy that makes London magnificent.  I re-learned the art of listening in my time away.  It’s a skill I hope to sharpen and retain in my journey ahead.

 

London Adventures Part One:  First Loves Never Die

Twenty eight days away from everything familiar and normal in one of the most fabulous cities in the world.  Twenty eight days to wake up and ask, “What sounds good today?” or “Where do I feel like going today?”   Close your eyes and imagine that for just a moment.  As an American, that concept is nearly impossible to contemplate.  We aren’t a nation of holiday seekers.  The average American takes less than two weeks of non-consecutive holiday time a year.  I, myself, had taken a grand total of two ten-day vacations in fifteen years prior to this sojourn to London. 

After fifteen years of owning my own business, I’ve been working for six months to close it down and transition existing clients and projects to other contractors in my field.  I had lived a life of being on call  twenty four hours, seven days a week.  The buck always stopped with me.  I was the one always in charge of putting out the fires and seeing things through.  The last few clients were proving difficult to transition.  I knew that in order to truly cut the cord and step out of that life, a drastic move would be required.  I would need to be unreachable and not just for them but for me as well (yes, just a little co-dependency had developed over the years).  So on February 18^th, I transferred my last client file to the replacement firm and changed the voicemail on my office phone saying I was no longer in business.   The next day I paid my bills, cleaned my house, emptied my refrigerator, packed my bag, kissed my cat (who would be looked after by her other mom, my ex) and boarded the overnight flight to Heathrow. 

Why London?  Well... Hello?  It’s London!  But I did pick London specifically. I have been a rural island girl for the last fifteen years.  Since this year is all about change, exploration and rediscovery for me, it seemed like it was time to go back to my first great love. London was the first city I actually fell in love with back in the days when I was a student in the U.K.  Oh, sure, I grew up in Southern California and hung out in Hollywood, but I had never loved it.  With London, it was love at first sight twenty five years ago and, except for landing in Heathrow and boarding a train to other locations in the U.K., I hadn’t seen it properly since my days as a student.

 

The first days were fraught with a tummy bug but after that passed, my friend and hostess began by reintroducing me to London’s amazing Tube system.  Much had changed in the twenty five years since my last visit to London.  Out with coins and tickets and in with Oyster Cards, but the system itself is just as efficient as I remembered.  It took me several reminders to stand on the right of escalators and pass on the left.  The British are an orderly sort, which I appreciate very much.  We wandered down to the British Museum and down to Soho over to Trafalgar Square.  Square after square, corner after corner, the beauty of London never gets old for me.  The majesty of the architecture, the layers of history, the city whispers stories at every turn.  I found myself just watching Londoners thinking, “Do they see this?”  “Do they hear this?”  “Do they know how precious this is?”  I hope so. 

 

I’ll admit that the size and scale of it all was daunting.  I had forgotten how big London is physically.  West Coast cities like Portland and Seattle don’t compare to cities like London.  There were as many people in the neighborhood I stayed in than in all of Portland.  I’m fairly positive that there were as many, if not more, people shopping in the local Sainsbury than reside in my whole town of Langley!  The sounds, the movement, the life, the pulse.  It all took a little getting used to in the first days, but it all felt like reconnecting with my first love.  I felt a world was opening to me and inside of me.  I got the distinct impression that my weeks ahead would be like nothing I’d experienced in a very long time.  It was becoming apparent that coming to London was a ‘coming home’ for me, in more ways than I could have ever imagined.
 

Sitting Still

There are moments in ones life that are forever etched into our souls.  The good, the sad, the funny moments that make life, well, life, are like stepping stones in a river we spend our lives crossing. They mark our path so that when we look back, we see where we've been.  I have many such moments indelibly marked on my heart but the one I'm thinking of today is the day I spent twenty four hours sitting vigil at my grandmothers bed as she drew her last breath. 
As I held the hand of the woman who helped raise me, reading to her, sharing stories with her, telling her it was okay to let go of the body that had finally given up after a whirlwind ride through this life, I was alone.  Except for my friend who sat with me via technology.  Without fail every fifteen or twenty minutes she'd send me a text.  She asked me to tell her stories of my grandmother.  She would tell me what the weather was like outside since I couldn't see the sky from where I sat.  She would say silly things to make me smile or inappropriate things that we all think in these moments, but would never say aloud. This friend would quietly remind me that in that moment of agony, as I let go of the last woman in my family who made me who I am, I would never be alone.
Sitting still is powerful.  It provides and requires a strength found only in the strong of heart.  Sitting still isn't about making someone feel better or fixing something or feeling useful. It is about being present, at the ready, standing witness.
I am standing in the river of my life today, my eyes focused on that singular stepping stone, hoping I too, might be able to stand still for one that I love today, so that in the future, she'll see, she is never alone. 

Laugh Loudly Today

Tonight I received one of those phone calls no one ever wants to get – news that a friend has passed suddenly and without warning.  My heart is heavy for her family, for her coworkers, friends and for myself.  We just spoke last Sunday and my last memory will be of her laugh, her smile and her radiance for life.  She was planning on retiring on December 31^st and was excited for what life had in store for her.  While I know my friend lived a full and happy life, her untimely death reminds me to greet every moment and every person with a full heart, an open mind and to live each day as if it’s my last.  Leave no words unspoken.

Today as you move through your day, take pause to love those closest to you, forgive those who have wronged you, be kind to someone who you might not usually talk with - and laugh.  Laughter is the music of a happy heart and will play long after we’re gone for those who miss us.

Magic Is Afoot

I get asked all of the time about living on an island.  It sounds glamorous and unique.  It is unique without a doubt but it is far from glamorous. Whidbey Island is a pretty amazing corner of the world.  We are the longest contiguous island in the continental United States (regardless of what Long Island thinks).  Cows and chickens almost out number people here and many of our roads are gravel and not paved.  Most of our roads aren't on any map and in the winter power outages can last for days.  When friends visit I tell them that we roll slowly.  Don't be in a hurry because Island Time means something here.  Be nice to everyone because you'll need that person you flipped off last week for something someday.  We joke that when America (and yes, we really do call the mainland that) finally implodes, we'll only have each other, so we should play nice.

Our north end of the island is anchored by Air Naval Whidbey with the gorgeous Deception Pass Bridge connecting it to the beautiful Skagit Valley.  It has big box store retailers and chain restaurants.  This creates a bit of civilization within reach but not too terribly close. 
The middle of the island is the Island County government seat with Coupeville, Fort Casey and Ebey's Reserve, as featured in major Hollywood films like Officer and A Gentleman and Practical Magic.  On my end...the Southend as it's known...we are an odd mix of rural, retired, artistic, working class, farmers and commuters. The Clinton/Mukilteo ferry links us to America. It's funk-a-fied for sure.  We're liberal but support gun ownership, over educated and under paid but we don't care because it's worth it to live here.  We all know what is going on in our neighbor's lives but try not to gossip and just let people live their lives.  Local food is more than a buzz word, it's a a way of life.  We welcome the whales with a parade each year as they pass the island in migration.  My father (bless his right wing heart) said of Langley "Well, there's just a bunch of damn hippies here" and he's not wrong.  It's one of the many reasons I love it so. We try hard to live our principles and allow everyone to do the same.  It's not easy but we do, actually, try.

We call summer the glorious season here.  From late June (hopefully) to late September we are rewarded for our long, dark, cold, wet winters and springs.  Townies summer and weekend here.  Our roads are busier, restaurants and shops make a large percentage of their annual incomes during summer.  We are, for a few months a year, a tourist destination.  When school bells begin to ring, the townies and tourists leave and my favorite season begins.  Autumn.  We get cool mornings and evenings with a hint of fog.  Days are mostly dry but we get light showers occasionally reminding us to savor the moments before winter storms begin.  We harvest our crops, begin processing our food for jars and freezers.  Salmon and crabbing seasons come to an end and we till our fields under planting cover crops so it can begin again.  I literally do not know a single person who doesn't do at least one of those things this time of year.  As I said, our connection to the land and food is way of life here.  For a girl who grew up in the suburbs of Southern California and spent a lifetime seeing pavement, this place is magical.

I hope in my writing people can see a little glimpse of my world.  For those of you so inclined you will make a sojourn to this way once in your life to see how we do things island style.  Or perhaps you'll look around your own corners of the world and see the magic all around you in this spectacular season known as Fall.

I'm Just Fine, Thanks for Asking

My 22 year marriage effectively ended earlier this year and I have to tell you the questions I get asked are rather interesting. People feel that even though I have always been fairly private about my marriage it’s perfectly fine to ask insanely personal questions. Hopefully some of what I share here will both help others who are going through this too and answer a few of the more blatant none of your business questions. If it doesn’t, well, too bad. It’s still none of your business. While the paperwork for dissolution is still pending at the state, all that technically remains is the crossed t and dotted i. I am so incredibly fortunate to be divorcing a woman who is essentially my best friend. We came to this decision out of great love and respect for one another and not out of anger or a sense of betrayal. This dissecting of a shared life is exhausting and painful and powerful and poignant. How do people who hate each other do this? How do they do this and come out the other side healthy? It boggles my mind to consider what it must be like to not do this in a way that is respectful and caring towards the person with whom I grew up, built a life and pledged to love and honor. I still love and honor her. I’ll just do it as her friend and not her wife. (Hopefully this answers the ever favorite I-can’t-believe-you-had-the-bad-manners-to-ask-this: “Did someone cheat/Was there someone else?” or the really?-what-makes-you-think-I’m-having-this-conversation-with-you-when-we’re-not-that-close: “Are you angry?” “Is she angry?” “How are you?”)
This journey of finding myself single at 43 (do the math, I was 20 when we got together) is scary, empowering, overwhelming and exciting all at the same time. The process of closing down my current business after being self employed for 11 years and to pursue new things is a bit surreal. The prospect of potentially moving off the rock or even commuting off the rock again is also scary and exciting. I have discovered things about myself I never knew before like I actually only like to cook for a crowd. If it’s just me I’d rather just keep it simple. I actually like a really tidy house and fresh flowers. I don’t watch a lot of television but prefer music instead. I like a cooler room. I don’t need ice cream in my freezer, in fact, I forget it’s there. (I think I just heard my friend in Indiana faint.) But I love salted caramels. When you’re married and more to the point when you grow up together, knowing these little things isn’t always easy. You compromise in so many small ways that you lose a little autonomy. But the point of all of this is, I like getting to know myself. This journey of self discovery is important and necessary. I find that I’m not bad company. (Hopefully this answers the second most asked question: “Are you seeing anyone yet?”)
When divorce happens “later in life” the changes required aren’t easy. Decisions and choices get made. The lifestyle of a two income household cannot be sustained but with that comes a myriad of opportunities. Perhaps a mortgage isn’t desirable. Maybe a large garden that requires hours and hours of maintenance a year isn’t how I want to spend my free time any longer. Would a condo in the city be more suitable? Should I buy another place or rent? Do I really like my furniture or is it time for something new? What is my favorite color now that I get to select it all on my own? Do I still like shabby chic or is urban eclectic more my style? Some of these questions are still pending but the fact that I get to ask them is exciting and opens my world up to all sorts of possibilities. (So for all of you who think it’s appropriate to ask, “Did you come out alright financially?” I will only say with a polite smile, I’m fine, thank you.)

When Worlds Collide

The last few days I’ve had the pleasure of hosting two friends from out of state in the waning days of a fabulous Pacific Northwest summer. These friends are a delight. We laugh and chatter and share. There never seems to be a shortage of things to talk about. It’s as if we’ve known each other for years and in reality we only recently met less than a year ago...online. We were discussing how randomly we ended up connecting in the big world of social media. What if we had skipped checking the news feed at that exact moment or hadn’t ‘friended’ the mutual person that connected us all? These women have gone from ‘online friends’ to real life friends in the course of months. What intrigues me more than the successful transitions from social media relationships are the relationships that will forever only be virtual. Why is it that some relationships can move beyond the pages of social media and email while others will remain forever intangible? In some ways, relationships on the page can be more intense and emotional than the living breathing ones you can touch and feel. Why is that, I wonder? I’ve contemplated this question for weeks now. The forever virtual friendships allow us to be whoever we wish be it authentic or fantasy. Whereas the face to face relationships contain a level of accountability not necessary in virtual interactions. Does one have more or less value in our lives? Is quantifying even necessary? Sometimes it begs the question: is it a real friendship or one of nebulous fiction? Obviously every connection is unique and should be treated as such but these questions rattle around in my head from time to time and I wonder if I’m alone in the contemplation. For today, I’m going to wander out to my living room, curl up on a sofa and sip tea with my friends and enjoy a day of laughter, a few hugs and appreciate that in this big wide world the “like” button has led me to two amazing people.