reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

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standing and cheering with momma. [merely-a-thought monday]

i went to school for nineteen years. when i finished my master’s degree my sweet momma asked if i would – one day – work on a doctorate. i emphatically replied, “not a chance!”. i felt that i had reached my terminal degree, so to speak, and that all the rest – all that education, work experience, talent and intuition and tenacity and wisdom gained along the way – would serve me well.

i am 64 today. sixty-four. six decades plus four.

and i am a woman. woman. she/her/hers.

and this is the 21st century. the 2000’s.

yet, sitting on the couch the other day, watching new amsterdam – cast with actors in many female physicians’ and specialists’ roles – i stood up and cheered for the female character who firmly stated, “i didn’t go to school for twelve years [med school] to learn how to smile more.”

what – exactly – is the propensity for people to tell – specifically – women to “smile” or “smile more” or “just smile” or some similar iteration in answer to conflict, to agenda, to management riddled with prejudice? the question i ask – would you tell a man to “smile” or “smile more” or “just smile” or – truly – any iteration as such?

the continued thwarting, silencing, harassing of women is insidious. and forever. as in – forever.

“there is a pull, a fiercely ingrained pull, to mute a woman’s voice until it coos. to press it down until it is as small and sweet as a pastel after-dinner mint. to control it. to silence it.”

“and still, she speaks. she tries to be heard. but very—too often—her voice is ignored … or belittled, mocked, critiqued, or shouted down.”

“if a woman utilizes her voice in a powerful way, or shakes up systems that are firmly in place, she will be subject to an abysmal, hack, silencing-method known as punishment.” (fiona landers – we have always silenced women – damemagazine.com)

“learn how to smile more…” i put new amsterdam on pause and rolled my eyes.

smiling more and keeping silent…when is that appropriate action in one’s workplace? is it appropriate – palatable – with a minimal salary and no benefits? is it substantially more appropriate – indeed more palatable – with a substantial salary, full benefits and retirement? do leaps and bounds of higher financial reward translate to keeping-one’s-mouth-shut even in the face of maltreatment? is a silent smiler in the upwardly-mobile ranks helping those on the lower ladder rungs? where is the line (or is it a ladder rung?) between generative transparency and closed-lipped acquiescence? where is the respect?

my sweet momma – who died at almost 94, a woman before her time – was a smiler. i – like most people – love to smile. i can see her smile in mine, the thinning curve as she grins, the crinkling of her eyes and the crease just above her top lip. she was a promoter of joy and kindness and – as the basic tenets of all the work i do in the world – i would like to think i have brought those forward, from her.

i found a small pocket calendar she sent me. i had saved it in a drawer in my studio for fifteen years. there is a handwritten sticky note on the back in which she directs me to “read the motivations through these pages” and to “start with the cover”.

the cover quote reads, “you must be the change you wish to see in the world.” (mahatma gandhi)

smiling-on-demand – even being a “sweet pastel after-dinner mint” – does not get one anywhere. conversely, not smiling-on-demand, not being a “sweet pastel after-dinner mint” can get one destroyed. but, in fact, smiling-not-for-a-real-smile’s-sake and the act of being a “sweet pastel after-dinner mint” and staying quiet about any prejudicial wrongdoing or malfeasance is an abhorrent manipulation, a coercion, shutting down strong, smart, valuable women – employees – time after time. and for what purpose? is this not perpetuating the oppression? just what responsibility do we have to each other, to the next? are we the change or aren’t we?

i’m 64. i’m still standing and cheering.

so is my sweet momma.

and we’re both smiling, just not on demand.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY


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those feelings. [merely-a-thought monday]

we are binge-watching new amsterdam. we hadn’t ever seen any episodes, so now, on the binge-couch, we are up to season 3, episode 2. we just watched episode 1 of that season – where they very respectfully nodded to the pandemic. it took our breath away.

instantly we were back there. the early season of covid. pcr tests, cdc numbers, masking arguments and people feverishly sewing masks and then masking everywhere, washing our groceries, leaving our mail on the table in the foyer for two days before opening it, zoom-work. lonely isolation and social distancing. a million questions. uncertainty. boosters. a divided nation. the dreadful images on our tvs and in the news of overwhelmed medical staff everywhere, the lack of supplies and semi-trailers serving as morgues and the common use of the word “ventilator” and a shortage of isopropyl alcohol, toilet paper, sanitizer. it was stunning to feel it all up-close-and-personal again, having had a bit of space and time since the absolute peak of the crisis. wow. we felt sickened to the core.

in those moments of watching we realized that there is likely no one who experienced this profound time of global pandemic who does not have some PTSD associated with it. how – on this good earth – could you escape that? the virus devastated people’s lives and livelihoods and isolation and worry tore apart the sense of community so important to all of us. we will all never be the same.

feelings have a way of finding their way. yes.

i am trying to establish a practice of mindfulness, a time of quieting my mind and body. in life – fraught with busy thoughts and lists and angsts of all sorts – this is not easy. there is a symphony going on in my mind at all times – many plates spinning in the air.

but i started listening to some guided imagery. quiet non-thematic music. a quiet voice.

the first time i listened, i wept. i thought it would be the exception. it wasn’t.

because, well, feelings are gonna find a home and, on the days you allow them, the days you grant space, the days meditation creates a safe haven, they peek out.

and, like a lazy river in the marsh, you can follow them or get out of the raft, disembarking for now.

either way, those feelings have all found a home. the gossamer-tied memories are all right there, somewhere. so is the grace.

maybe we all need be a little softer on ourselves.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY


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in every walk of nature. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

one mention of jack-in-the-pulpit and i was back at blydenburgh park in smithtown. it didn’t take much to find myself in the woods, hiking along the nissequogue river, by the pond. camera in hand, early spring, looking for the earlybirds of the season. jack-in-the-pulpit didn’t disappoint, flowering shortly after my birthday, spotted on muddy hikes on brisk days.

i remember bike-hiking there, with susan. i just googled it and the county park was only 6.6 miles from my growing-up house. we would ride bikes everywhere. our destination of choice – most of the time – was crab meadow beach, but you know that. even in the winter, when handlebar-turned-down-10-speeds were impossible, my trusty little bug would get me there, to that beach. i would walk and walk and walk. the shoreline is a good place to think, to grow, sandy step by sandy step.

last friday – as it approached the end of the workday – we looked at each other. “fridaynightdatenight,” we tossed into the kitchen. as the hour wore on, we pondered what to do – on this datenight. an iffy-weather day, we didn’t bundle up late afternoon for a hike or even a walk. we were looking forward to making a big stockpot of soup, glass of wine in hand. we have three books we are mutually reading. we are binge-watching new amsterdam. dogga was at our feet in the kitchen. it was a cozy fridaynight.

the next day we hiked. because we really do love to be outside on a trail.

and the more i hike, the more i remember hiking.

but somewhere along the way, i stopped.

i didn’t hike. i didn’t take long walks.

and i am somewhat astounded to think about that now.

but not everyone likes to be on a trail or even a sidewalk, for that matter. not everyone likes to merely take-a-walk in the company of someone they love.

i didn’t realize how much i missed blydenburgh park and crab meadow beach and millneck manor and planting fields arboretum and smith’s point park and hoyt farm nature preserve – places so very familiar to me because i walked them – again and again – until i started memorizing the des plaines river trail and the van patten woods and bristol woods and allendale sidewalks along the lakefront.

that’s when i realized how much i had missed, how much each step on trails feeds me – nearby, or in the high mountains of colorado or the smoky mountains of north carolina, along the easternmost long island beaches or in the woods of upstate ny state parks or in the red rock of utah.

the trees were submerged in the river; there had been some mild flooding. i know these trees. we’ve watched them through seasons on saturdaydatehikes or latemondaytuesdaywednesdaythursdayafternoondatenights. we’ve attached to this trail and it feels as if it remembers us as we pass along it. soon, i think i’ll look for jack-in-the-pulpit, just in case. it would likely bloom later here than in blydenburgh park. spring is later here.

as i bent way down, camera in hand, to shoot through the mulch at the river, i was transported back to that suffolk county park, camera always in hand. and it made me think about all the years i had not stepped foot on a trail, had not walked-until-blisters, had not watched the water rise and fall on rivertrees or glimpsed jack-in-the-pulpit in the underbrush.

i wonder about what those decades of trails would have looked like, what mountains i may or may not have climbed, what roiling rivers i might have entered or not entered, what out-of-breath conversations would have taken place, what problems sorted, what challenges summited, what decisions made, what disasters averted, what center might have been out there, what wisdom trails may have gifted me, what might be different.

“in every walk of nature, one receives far more than he seeks.” (john muir)

i’m glad to have found my way back.

walks of nature.

blydenburgh park is 898 miles from here. crab meadow beach is 908. smith’s point park is 924. upstate new york around 1000. the smoky mountains are 739. the high mountains of colorado are 1237. moab et al is 1511. all on the list of places to return to. places to hike, to walk.

but bristol woods is 13 miles and the des plaines river trail is 12. and either of those is a worthy handinhand fridaynightdatenight.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY