The insomnia of separation from a manโs shoulder bowed to my head, tweaks like stale bread. A mind that directs me when I am driving directionless and maps my journey, walks beside me, a guardian of my fragility, acutely conscious of our path. The voice that encourages and applauds my success rather than let it drip from jealousy or preoccupation. How the laughter erupts in a moment of spontaneous passion. The gestures of him shaving and the modest vanity after I re-wardrobe him. Feeling his eyes in a crowd, undressing or admiring me, for some folly or expression.
The humor he finds in my misguided attempts to open bottles, and packages with a dull spoon, and figure out electronics.
How he will pardon and pamper my unwarranted fears of stalkers, sickness, rejection nightmares, and falling down the slippery wooden stairs.
When do we begin to lie about our lives:, feelings, fears, and mistakes? I ask this because of simple observation, knowing when someone is not telling me their truth. I remain silent; it’s not my way to ask why you lie to me? It’s like a social-cultural mask. I’ve always sought to know the truth. Why should we shield our traumas and hardships more than our triumphs and accomplishments? Do you know who does not lie? ART and SPORTS. That is why we listen to music, read books, go to galleries and museums, watch films, go to the theater, and go to dance performances. I cannot comment on sports because I’m not a spectator, although I love basketball.
We, and I mean this in only a visceral sense, do not believe politicians, news, social media, or advertisements. We want to, but deep in our inner truth, we know it is the manipulation of our individual thoughts and choices. That is why I trust art to deepen my understanding of the human condition. Thank you to all the artists and athletes who share their pain and glory.
He pushed her on a swing, so high she touched the sky, viewed the world through his eyes, lived for a time without lies, then as mystically as he appeared, he let go of the swing, and she fell on her wing, broken but with the will to begin again. A broken heart hasnโt stopped her from loving him.
For ten days, just thinking of her spoken words, how they made their way to his ears and returned the sounds she so wanted to hear. When he stopped contacting her, she wiped her tears as some people find love at the core of their fears.
It is the Kentucky Derby and Cinco De Mayo weekend at La Posada. Kristen from the hotel said I should go; it would be fun. Sheโs a feisty young woman with clear, penetrating blue eyes and silky brown hair. Youth dances in her expressions; other times, it wilts from being locked down to an indoor job. Sheโs an adventurer who camps out in Belize and South America. Now, sheโs talking about Antigua.
I walked out to the courtyard to see what was going on. The tables werenโt set up yet, but the Donkey stood idly and annoyed at the other end of the yard. I donโt know why they bring him, maybe for the kids. In the bar, a few guests were watching the Derby. The elan of race anticipation is shining like a light. I ordered a Mint Julep, and the guys were all watching as Dude whipped it up with finesse.
โ How is it?โ Dude asked without needing any approval.
โ Magical. Who are you betting on? Greta asked.
โI want a Titty Tut, something nasty.โ
โ Oh, stop that. You do it too much.โ She replied.
โ Not nearly enough! Okay, hereโs my horseโPromises Fulfilled. Oh yes, thatโs mine.โ
โ Everything you say is a metaphor for sex.โ
โ You bet it is.โ Whoโs your pick?โ
โ My prick is Justify.โ
โHah, see, now you get it.โ
I sipped my drink and wandered around the lobby, stopping to greet Jackie, Monserrat, and Danielle. They donโt know what their smiles and caring comments do for me. I must tell them more often.
โ I donโt know what Iโd do without all of you.โTo be continued.
Adventures in livingness aren’t just about extroversion, what we say, how we behave, or how we respond. More importantly, they are about our inner changes when life demands that from us. No one hears what threads are spoken in our heads, the ones that are flawed from indecisiveness, the ones that have been molded from things long past, the new threads that are unfamiliar, and the ones we need to rip out entirely.ย
Today is the day to stop punishing myself and outlive what has aborted my adventures in livingness.
No longer incubate to avoid disappointment, irritations, chaos, uncertainty, and senseless fear. I’m not alone, and you’re not alone. Friends of marvelous careers and lifestyles admit the same. We remain at home, where comfort, familiarity, control, and sustainability are our foundation.
No longer! Debasing my flaws, failures, and finicky flashes, manage them like I’m preparing dinner. If the pasta isn’t fabulous, I don’t go into a fit of failure.
I no longer will have apprehension and anxiety when buyers arrive to tour my home. The great philosophers advised me on Facebook that anxiety never solves problems.
I feel artists and their works are not featured in the media, or maybe itโs because my scrolling is stuck on the essentials of living. In times of war, people must have known, see it now or never. According to Google, over two and a half million working artists live in the country. When was the last time you discussed it at dinner with anyone? I havenโt, and I donโt know why. Pop-up thoughts on life.
BEFORE I think about how to respond to a stranger, I feel them; the gestures, expressions, tone of voice, movement, conversation, mannerisms, and eyes. I acknowledge feelings first, then I think.
When I’m driving, I feel sprite or gloom. I feel a twirl of sensory perception from the drivers’ faces and witness the joyous reciprocal ink of friendship between shopkeepers, cops and dining customers, city workers, and service technicians trying to fix satellites and cables in a village with inconsistent infrastructure.
SOME of my principles are unsupported by experience, but more with GROWING UP WITH GANGSTERS training that I cannot erase.ย ย My theme is unbalanced; I take the extreme path instead of the path with arrows.ย It is why writing settles my sea-saw.ย As I sit in my antique wooden chair looking out, feeling Saturday’s silence beneath a blanket of blue sky and radiant sunshine, a tiny thread of peace realigns a week of political profanity, war, and death, but they got Sinwar!ย ย The sedate and quiet surroundings relieve my spinning head, and I just continue to sit and not fidget.ย ย
I’VE observed the village people; some appear to drag their bodies rather than hotfoot. I wonder if all the global Google news has weighed us down.ย Teens signal youth’s fascination with experience, newness, and expectation.The exchange of human voices as pedestrians walk along the street, I’ve noticed that New Yorkers speak in voluminous pitch. I can hear their voices from my bedroom on the third floor with closed windows. Humanity is our background symphony, along with the crows, lawnmowers, power saws, blowers, and racing cars. ย This street is part of my theme;ย a juxtaposition of historic homes and modern toys. I am a 21st-century flapper clinging to the roar of independence, self-expression, and breaking the rules.ย If we feel the chord of festivity,ย we should not hold back.ย I am going out now to see ifย I can feel more.ย ย
Sunday October 20,ย
I walked out to the porch and slouched against a pillar to feel warmed by the sun. My dermatologist advised that I should not stay longer than ten minutes, even with fifty UV protection. Today is family day and a car show in the village. I experienced it two years ago, so I remain at home; listening to the geese go south for the winter and feeling solitude. It’s like a branchless tree, a storm without an umbrella, a garden without flowers, and a home without company. Oh, snap out of it. Go to Henry’s Tavern and watch the game with men losing their cool. They get insanely raucous s over football.
Why can the leaves turn lemon, plum, and tangerine? Why does the sky allow storms to shake up its translucent surface? Why can nature reinvent momentarily with wind, rain, hurricanes, and earthquakes? Why can’t I change the colors of my mood? I get daily messages from an Instagram member named Asadโinspiring, and he circulates around the themes of mood, attitude, loneliness, and inner strength. All of these have toppled my life since I can remember. I’m more taciturn than most people perceive. I can display a mannequin of poise and joy, but if you remove the surface, beneath is a conundrum of self-doubt, second-guessing, punishment, and fear. What’s even more destabilizing is I actually think I’m alone.
Last week, I observed the cashier’s facial expression and gestures at the Stop-& Go, which alerted me to her distress. I was buying a Cadbury chocolate bar after reading that chocolate is mood-changing, not just the hip-hop of energy; it can change your mood.
” I read that chocolate helps with depression, and these dreary dark days don’t help,” I admitted.
” Oh, I know. I used to be a registered nurse,” she said, facing me squarely into my eyes. I noticed a lot of cashiers don’t do that anymore.
” I suffer with anxiety and depression so I had to quit. I can mix up a Cadbury bar with a Snickers but not with medication.”
” I have the same as you, it’s changed my life as well. ” I looked at her name tag, without my glasses.
” You’re name is America? She laughed and her smile emerged.
“No, underneath, Dolores.”
” Thank you for listening to me,” I said
” Thank you, customers rarely acknowledge us.”
We don’t want pity or empathy; we all need recognition, and not in a text!
My emotional tail is wagging. Curled up in my desk chair, I feel almost as if I was born in this chair. Itโs cushioned me through a cyclone of adventures in livingness. This piece of writing was handwritten on a tablet back in late January. Iโve made some minor additions and deletions. Before submitting to a publisher, the editor I used asked me, โWhy do you keep switching between past and present tense?โ I told her I donโt control that until Iโm in final editing. My control over my writing is identical to how I live. Acting on impulse, expanding the mundane into a musical, feasting on all the emotions, and fabricating thorny Walter Mitty encounters. I donโt even think of applying proven methods; I make up new ones. Back to this plateau of solitude. Love what you have, and especially yourself, with all your flaws. Integrity is more critical; be proud not just for yourself, but because someone out there needs you.
PART TWO: After reading this and while emptying the trash, I was struck by this: the big payback to living as I described is an adaptation to proven methods. I’m learning pragmatic over poetic.
Saturday, a heavy clog of humidity tries to zap my energy. I slept six hours, so I fight, do laundry, do a bit of weight lifting, go up and down the twenty stairs twelve times, and wander in my mind. I answer the first phone call of the day.
” Hi, how are you? ?”I pause to answerwith some amusing honesty.
” I’m cleaning my brain?
” How do you do that? You’re funny.”
” “I sweep away all the repetitive scary thoughts.”
” What about you? My friend sighed and then zigzagged into her struggles, taking care of her ninety-six-year-old mother, who does not speak English; my friend is Armenian. She works full-time as a court translator, has two children, a husband, and about fifty friends she continually connects to.
“You are four people in one. I don’t know how you do it?” Is your Mom still living with you?”
“ Yes, she can’t walk. She sleeps in the living room because the bedrooms are upstairs. It’s difficult. I have to feed her as she’s now refusing to eat.”
” Please try and get a nurse’s aide to come in and help you.”
“She won’t let anyone touch her but me.”
“I find that selfish, not to be critical, but you will wear yourself down.”
” She’s always been like that; in my culture, you never abandon a parent, no matter what. Her mind is sharp, so that is good.“
” Heaven isn’t good enough for you,” she chuckled. I often improvise to be amusing because her laughter is boisterous, and we all need more injections of humor.
” Have you decided where to move when it sells?”She asked again.
” Yes, I was looking at my book on Italy, all the different regions, and I think Anacapri is a good choice.”
” Oh, Greta… that is so expensive; what are you thinking?”
“I’m not thinking I’m daydreaming.”
” I have an idea for you. There is a new trend, something like Boomermates, a group of people who share a house, and you don’t have to sign a lease. Go look in San Diego and find something.
“Roommates, strangers, you mean?”
“Yes, why not?”
” Would you do that?”
” Probably not. A studio anywhere in San Diego is two thousand at least, and don’t use the proceeds from the house.
“Now you’re daydreaming. I’ll have to use some without the rental income until I find employment. Are you home now?”
“No, I’m driving to San Diego for a court appointment
“It’s what, six in the morning?“
“Yes, I wake up at five.”
” Every time I come here, I think of you. You were a great leasing agent. You leased about fifty of my units. You can get a job leasing in a nice project. Oh, you should have bought that unit. I remember G4 when we converted to condominiums.“
“Yes, you’ve told me that a hundred times.”
” I made the same mistake. What can you do?”
” Complain and then accept what you can’t accept. Like selling my home.”I went through my steamer trunk and found my marketing portfolio when I opened Follies as an artist retreat. It was nonstop theatrics. One time, I hosted a theater group of six young actors; they were so much fun. Ah, memories.
” You will make it; look what you accomplished, winning a foreclosure, Greta; that is something big.”
” So is my glass of wine.”
“I’d be doing the same in your situation.”
” Another showing, a really nice family. They’ll make an offer. They commented that the exterior paint is their issue, so did I tell you already? I found a marvelous painter from Albania, and he’s given me a very reasonable price to paint the entrance, balisters, and overhang. You know that curb appeal is critical.”
” You shouldn’t spend your money, Greta, how much?”
” Three thousand, and it’s a lot of scraping and ladder work. It’s the right decision if I may disagree with my real estate guru.”
” That is reasonable. Keep me posted. I’m in San Diego now, so I will speak to you soon.”
” Heaven isn’t good enough for you.”And I’m leaving Follies in the best I can because she was so good to me.
ADVENTURERS IN LIVINGNESS 
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