Full Bloom

These spectacular tulips greeted me at the corner of Riverside Drive and Monument Avenue at Riverscape Metro Park in Dayton, Ohio. I was stopped in my tracks by their gorgeous full blown beauty.

Our culture is obsessed with peak beauty, youthful beauty. We hear the phrase "past its peak," the implication being that the most beautiful moment has passed. 

But is that true? Take a closer look.

More is visible when the tulips are fully open. We can see and appreciate what's inside.

What if we begin to look at one another that way? Recognize that a mature woman allows us to see beyond the perfection of youth. There are few things more attractive than a woman fully present in her body, fully aware of her power and creativity.

Let's go forward today and look for those women. When you see one, share that smile, that look, that glance, that says I see you and you are gorgeously in full bloom.

Women in Radio

WYSO's Neenah Ellis and NPR's Susan Stamberg

Last November I took a Weekend Intensive on radio production at WYSO in Yellow Springs. It was an introduction to Community Voices, an innovative program with Sarah Buckingham and Neenah Ellis where participants learn to record and edit audio, conduct interviews, write for radio, and ultimately produce a feature story. I so enjoyed the intensive that I applied for the 2012 Community Voices Class. I was fortunate enough to be accepted and found the experience life expanding and enhancing.

Sarah Buckingham and Nina Ellis

On June 29th WYSO sponsored a fundraising event,  a presentation by Susan Stamberg  entitled "How Art Will Save the World" at the Dayton Art Institute. Susan Stamberg is quite something. In 1972 she became the first woman to anchor a national radio nightly news program, All Things Considered on NPR. She's often referred to as a founding mother of NPR and, in her seventies, remains a special correspondent. Her reports, usually in the arts, always touch upon something I always wanted to know more about and always leave me breathing a deep satisfied sigh along with a bit of envy. Who wouldn't love to be able to travel and meet and then report upon some of the most fascinating people in the world? The DAI talk was delightful as was the reception following in the Gothic Cloister.

Susan has close personal connections here. In Neenah Ellis's introduction of Susan she told a charming story about being a new employee at NPR and having Stamberg sail in and ask, "Who are you and can you cut tape?" This was the beginning of a relationship between these two women that continues today. When Stamberg finished her talk her final remark in her thanks was, "She's Neenah Ellis and she can cut tape!" This story was especially meaningful to the Community Voice members as one of the first things Neenah and Sarah taught us was how to "cut tape" as it is still called even though it is done digitally now. Neenah's husband Noah Adams was co-anchor with Susan for many years on All Things Considered.

The Community Voices group was privileged to have Susan share her wit and wisdom with us for several hours on the following Saturday. She brought tape from several of her pieces and then gave us the back story on taping and production.

She described her experience interviewing the legendary photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson at age 94, almost thirty years after he decided to take no more photographs. He was difficult to interview and she had to rely on tape from other people in the room, his wife and his friend John Morris, onetime Life magazine photo editor. She played the tape for us and knowing the context of the interview we were privy to what a masterful production job it was. The story itself is seamless and engaging throughout. You can hear the 2003 story at NPR.


There's a womanly trail here. Susan is at the trail head where she tucked Neenah under her wing and they became colleagues. Neenah continued the path with Sarah Buckingham, encouraging her dream and desire to create Community Voices and lending her experience and wisdom to the task. Now, I am privileged to have Sarah, at the youthful age of twenty six mentoring me. Women in radio, it's a lovely thing.

If you are curious about Neenah's journey from NPR and independent production to station manager, visit  The Transom Review.

The Pear

I'm blogging today at  the Story Circle Network on their blog,  One Woman's Day. Please click here to read my post about this ornament. May all your holiday memories be sweet ones!

Winter Solstice Sisters

In 2009 I held my first winter solstice gathering. The Winter Solstice marks the longest night of the year, from that date forward, there is a bit more light every day until the Summer Solstice in June. It was such a success that I have continued the practice of hosting my treasured friends for a ceremony and meal to celebrate the return of the light.

We begin by creating a sacred space, passing a light until all candles are lit. Each woman speaks in turn, naming what she wants to leave in the darkness and what she wants to embrace in the coming light. Each woman also chooses a word as her focus for the next year.  Part of the magic is how intently we all listen to one another, honoring that woman and her choices.

 

This year I provided Sharpies, markers, pastels, colored pencils, magazines for collage cut outs, letter stamps, and glitter glue to decorate package tags with the chosen word to use as book marks or to tie onto a gear shift or mirror. There were also round balls that could be decorated with the word and hung on the Christmas tree.

Both the tags and the balls were creatively done!

As in the past, the celebration concludes with a shared meal. This year's menu included antipasto, Joy Behar's lasagna, vegetarian acorn squash lasagna with walnut cream, three green salads and a delicious lemon cake. It was an evening of food for the body and food for the soul.

Winter Solstice is a time for contemplation and renewal. It's a time to appreciate friendships, open our hearts to the possible, and state our intentions for the year to come. I'm grateful to have these women in my life.

I Just Wanna Go to Rehab

I said, “Yes, yes, yes!” 

I used to sing well. And, I loved to sing. But chronic, allergy-related coughing and misuse of my voice left me with more of a croak than a singing voice. It got to the point where I would not even sing when I was in the car, alone!

I tried throat lozenges, allergy medication, cough suppressants and resting my voice. Nothing helped, I felt discouraged and, well, sad. I finally found my way to The Blaine Block Institute for Voice Analysis and Rehabilitation.

After an endoscopy to examine my larynx and esophagus (my vocal chords), I got the good news. There is no permanent damage, just severe bruising. The even better news is that, with therapy, I should be able to recover my singing voice. It was amazing to look at the photographs of my vocal chords. This is a whole new level of getting in touch with my body!

Now, comes the rehab part. My speech and language therapist gave me a series of exercises to rehabilitate my voice. The first round of exercises (they’ll change as I make progress) takes about ten minutes, twice a day. After sounding a note on a pitch pipe, she had me repeat and sustain that note for as long as possible while singing "eeee." Then I do the same exercise, on the same note, while buzzing the lips. The second exercise is to go from my comfortable low note to my comfortable high note. The third is the reverse, to go from my comfortable high to my comfortable low. The final exercise is a series of notes (G A B C) where I sustain the note for as long as possible to "oooo." I immediately noticed I was having trouble with the breath necessary to sustain a note so next time we'll work on that.

To assist my practice, she provided a CD with all the exercises including the sounding pitches. Most of the time I do these in the car. The first time I did them, my son asked, "Is that you or is that the CD?" I told him it was both. On the next set, I heard a third voice, his! Now the joke around our house is to let loose with some "eee's," "ooo's," or lip trills to locate one another! Our two Yorkies are quite amused!

I'm grateful to have this opportunity to reclaim my voice. I'm looking forward to relearning how to effectively use my breath. Last December, at my Solstice Celebration, my chosen word for the year was "breathe." Lovely how its significance is affirmed in this rehabilitation process.

Thank You Betty Ford

Official White House Photo 1974

I celebrate the life of Betty Ford and send a kiss of gratitude to her as she begins the next stage of her journey. I remember when she was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1974. I was twenty-three years old and already badly disconnected from my body.  I was uncomfortable with the open way she discussed her cancer and her mastectomy. I wondered how she would be with her husband afterward. And I wondered if he would still want her. 

My father had colon cancer when I was thirteen. He had surgery and survived. I knew he was sick and I knew he had an operation but I was never told, and was too well conditioned to secrets to ask, what the surgery was. It was months later when my brother-in-law mentioned my father's cancer and saw my shock that anyone realized I did not know it was cancer. Cancer was a shameful secret and colon cancer even more so. Breast cancer was talked about in whispers and with more sorrowful shame. It was a "female problem" and not for public, or for that matter private, discourse. Betty Ford just blew the doors off that. Not only did she say she had breast cancer; she said the "m" word, mastectomy. It was the first time I heard that spoken aloud. She even allowed her picture to be taken while still in the hospital. This all made me terribly uneasy, somewhat embarrassed, and confused. Then she did the most surprising thing; she recovered! Not only did she not die, she thrived. And her husband seemed as devoted to her as ever. 

Thirty-five years later, when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, it is a different world. People wear pink ribbons, walk and run to raise money, have support groups, and talk openly about breast replacement, scars, treatment, everything! Yet, I still felt vaguely ashamed of having a problem with a "female” part. I wondered if I would be considered defective, less than desirable, or damaged goods. Those early imprinted messages run deep. But I blogged about it, joined support groups, and talked with other women, lots and lots of other women. I am just realizing now that I have not talked with men very much. I was in the middle of an ugly divorce and did not get the kind of support Betty Ford got from her husband. I am just now realizing the example he set. He clearly still loved her and stood by her. She was what was important, not her body, not her breasts. He loved her. I mourn that I did not have that and that rejection there wounded me further. Gerald Ford was President of the United Sates of America and did not feel he needed a perfect, two-breasted wife to complete his image.

What I did have, and celebrate to this day, was a legion of women. Not just friends and family but strangers met through various support groups. For the first time in my life I talked about my body and a struggle I was having about my body with other human beings. I had been silenced early on, programmed to not mention anything to do with my body or sexuality or even sensuality. I have a male therapist I trust and he was magnificent in his understanding and encouragement. A few friends’ husbands were sympathetic, and while I appreciated their sympathy it made me realize more acutely the lack in my life. It was the women who understood and saw me through to the other side. And Betty Ford, by her brave example, was first in line. 

Mother's Day 2011

I love being a mother. Here is why!

Resilience

Path near the Stillwater River

While walking along a path in one of my local parks, I noticed this tree in bloom. As I looked closer, I realized that one of the branches was snapped, almost completely severed. Yet this very tenuously attached branch was in full and glorious bloom! What resilience. What perseverance. Despite being terribly traumatized, this bough flowered on.

Flowering bough

When I first accepted that I had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from dealing with betrayal and a marriage gone terribly wrong, a friend sent me a page from her book of daily readings entitled Broken to be More Beautiful. I've held on to that reading and that thought as I heal. This tenacious branch reminded me again to stay the course, persevere, and share my beauty.

Broken, yet still creating beauty

           

Tea Time

I drink tea. And I love High Tea. And I love wearing a hat. I know that in England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales both men and women take time for tea but here a High Tea is most often a ladies' event. My friend Pam's daughter just announced her engagement and as she studied in England, High Tea seems an appropriate bridal shower theme. For the sake of research, Pam and I made a reservation for High Tea at Eleanor's Tea Cottage in Troy, Ohio.

This was a true High Tea, beginning with fruit, then scones with real cream and fresh jam, followed by a delicious chicken divan soup, then chicken salad, pimento cheese, and cucumber sandwiches, and finishing with lemon pie and chocolate peanut butter cupcakes topped with with crunchy little bird nests filled with tiny eggs.

A sweet little pansy topped the whipped cream

Three kinds of sandwiches

Charming little nest cake toppers

 Our hostess was gracious and skilled, allowing us time to enjoy each delicious course and feel completely pampered. It was a delight to pause, savor a friendship, and plan a shower for a lovely young woman.

About wearing a hat... My mother used to say, "Wear a hat, you'll feel better." I remember seeing a large group of women of a certain age all decked out in purple outfits and red hats at an Olive Garden restaurant. These ladies were talking and laughing and living out loud. They made me smile. They were, of course, members of a Red Hat Society inspired by the first two lines in the poem Warning by Jenny Joseph, "When I'm an old woman I shall wear purple with a red hat that doesn't go and doesn't suit me." For my mother's 91st  birthday we had a tea party and asked the ladies to bring their favorite tea cup and to wear their best hat. There were some pretty extravagant hats because many of these gals attend the Kentucky Derby, a hat lovers' paradise. My mom wore a shocking pink, petaled hat that she designed and made herself. Now that I'm sixty maybe it's time to let my creativity loose on my hat selections. And when better than to debut a new hat than at a High Tea!

Storm Body

Judy Abrahamson (writing)

Hurricane Faye

Wind
Refreshing, caressing
Blowing acceptance over naked skin
Lightning overhead, surf below
Healing coolness all around
I am at peace
My body is my own.

Judy Abrahamson

I met this poet several years ago when she shared Hurricane Faye at a writing workshop. I was just beginning this journey to connect with my body and her poem struck a deep chord. It made me cry. I loved it so much that I asked her to submit it to Story Circle Network's annual anthology True Words from Real Women, 2008. I was editor that year with my dear friend and fellow writer Becca Taylor.

What resonated most was the line, "My body is my own." I was feeling so bad about myself and my body. So unloved, so rejected, and so disconnected. That wild hurricane, her oneness with it, the peace of laying claim to her own body made me aware of what I didn't have and what I both want and need. It is a long journey from living and being mostly for someone else to recognizing and honoring myself. To knowing my own beauty and value. To claiming my own power. It is not an easy journey. It is not quick. It is not finished. But words like these heal and encourage and inspire.

When ever a storm rolls through Ohio, accompanied by thunder and lightning and wind, I remember this poem. And I take time to connect with my own storm body, to appreciate who I am and who I am becoming.

The Drinkin' O' the Green

I'm Irish. I have many happy memories of St. Patrick's Day celebrations: Irish step dancing, vibrant Celtic music, shamrock plants, cold beer, Irish soda bread, and always wearing green so as to not get pinched! Post cancer and focusing on caring for my body, I've switched my focus from the "wearin' o' the green" to the "drinkin' o' the green," green tea that is!

I drink about three cups of green tea every day. I prefer either Trader Joe's Organic Green Tea or Tazo Zen tea, a green tea, lemongrass and spearmint mix. I've read that to get the full benefit of the antioxidants in green tea it is necessary to steep the tea for ten minutes. The problem is that in ten minutes the tea is no longer hot. Humph.

Nancy Snyder

The problem was solved for me by my friend and potter Nancy Snyder of 5th St Clayworx. Nancy makes, among other things, beautiful hand thrown mugs with lids. The lid sits on top of the mug while the tea is steeping and keeps in the heat. The lid then makes a handy place to put the bag. The bonus is that this mug is truly beautiful. The shades of brown and touches of green and blue are a visual feast and make the ten minute wait tolerable.

Mug and fitted lid

Gorgeous and functional

Today's breakfast of green tea and Irish Soda bread (recipe below) was good for the soul because I thought of my friend and her passion for her art. All those antioxidants are good for my body. And starting my day with something beautiful sparks my creativity.  Slainte!

Here's an easy recipe for Irish Soda Bread. I used organic sugar, butter, raisins, and milk but couldn't find organic self-rising flour. Next year I'll figure out how to replace the flour as well.

Irish Soda Bread

4 c. self-rising flour
1/2 c. sugar
4 T. butter
8 oz. raisins
2 c. milk

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Grease and flour two loaf pans.

Mix first three ingredients well. Slowly add in milk. Blend in raisins. Shape into two loaves, place in pans and bake 50-70 minutes until a knife inserted into the loaf comes out clean and the top is beautifully browned. Best served with Irish butter!

At 60 - Find Your Way

In December 2009, while shopping at a lovely artist's boutique at the DVAC Gallery for Christmas gifts for my creative kindred spirits, I discovered the fused glass jewelry of Diane Zubrick and fell in love with this pendant and bought it for myself. I've since worn it quite often.  I love the idea of having a travel permit, or passport, entitling me to a creative journey. 

Last week my friend, Jewels, noticed it and asked to take a closer look. She handed it back to me casually mentioning how appropriate it is that the  return fare is 60, as in Sensuously Sixty, and the final words are, "Find your way." I never put that together. Here I am, at sixty, finding my way. Perfect.

Time In a Bottle

I’m very fond of massage. When several different friends recommended a particular massage therapist, I called and made a Saturday morning appointment. A sense of place is very important to me, as is beauty. When I look for a massage therapist, I seek someone who is centered, fully present, and whose studio space is serene with an underlying sense of peace and joy.

When I parked in front of her home and studio, I spotted some very interesting trees.

 These whimsical bottle trees tickled my fancy and provided a visual treat as I stopped to admire the wide assortment of artistic labels. I have a friend with a bottle tree who has removed all the labels and focused on the colors of the bottles to provide the "fruit." As I tend to pick my wine by the art on the label I enjoyed that this one had the labels intact.

Post massage and in a mellow mood, I lingered to look again at the bottles. Maybe they are a bit like women. We start out with people being attracted to us by our label or our reputation but eventually the bottle is opened and what's inside becomes important. The wine is then consumed. Much like life sometimes turns us upside down and empties us out. But the glass, the vessel, remains. Some bottles are simply discarded. But others are recycled, reborn into something new, perhaps differently beautiful, perhaps more enduring.

These metal branches and glass fruit don't seem to take themselves quite as seriously as a fine bottle of wine in a wine rack waiting to be decanted. They are living life in the now, with a wink and a smile.

Here’s a recent wine I chose by the label. I go cycling and this woman, holding on for a ride in the sky on her winged bicycle, looks like she is at home in her body, experiencing life with joyful abandon. If the wine is half as good as the label, I’ll enjoy it!

Cycles Gladiator Syrah California 2008

Sweet Harmony

As much as I love celebrating birthdays, I always winced a bit when it was time to sing the traditional Happy Birthday song. It might be the most frequently badly sung song in our culture. This time, when my women friends gathered around the table and the cake candles were lit, there was a pause and ... gorgeous, lilting song! I knew from the first few words that this was going to be extraordinary.  It was, quite simply, the most beautiful rendition I have ever heard. Voices rising and falling, harmonies blending, lovely serene faces, radiating a unity and power that lifted me up on high. I cried. All the hugs afterward turned those tears to a happy smile.

Birthday Smiles

I had looked, truly looked, at each of their faces as they sang and realized what renaissance women these are. There were sculptors, fiber artists, painters, gardeners, equestrians, gardeners, gourmet cooks, bakers, yarn artists, poets, writers, singers, musicians, and healers present. Some of the women walk marathons, practice yoga, do Pilates and synchronized swimming, and meditate regularly. They are all seekers, embracers of possibility, creative to the bone. They are all kind, loving women who struggle to find time to honor their muses while maintaining peace and harmony in their homes and work places. And they can sing!

I had a lifetime of doing everything with my ex husband, being part of a couple, socializing with other couples. I had girlfriends but with them did things like shopping or perhaps an occasional craft project. Since my divorce, I have embraced women friends in a new way. I prioritize time with them. And all the things I have longed to talk about, the intimate sharing of hopes and dreams, the nurturing of creative possibilities, the things you need another woman to hear and understand, I now have and do. The harmony in the singing reflects well the new harmony in my life. I am able to relate to others without the restrictions I felt during my marriage. I am changing, growing and starting to feel more at home in this body, in this life.

Celebrating Sixty

Carrot cake with marzipan carrots on top.

My friend Lori  (www.laughinggirlquilts.blogspot.com) hosted a birthday party for me. In addition to being a poet, writer, and fiber artist, Lori is a baker extraordinaire. She asked me what kind of cake I liked and I told her either carrot or chocolate would be divine. She made both! The carrot cake was three layers of moist, nutty deliciousness topped with orange cream cheese icing and what I first thought were actual carrots. But they were hand crafted of marzipan with real carrot greens. This cake was amazing, unbeatable I thought. Until...

I tried the chocolate cupcakes with swiss meringue butter cream frosting piped on top of the most decadent chocolate cake ever! She served these on a silvery dish with swirls that resonated with the swirls of the icing. Visually enchanting and the taste...mmmm. No need for further explanation as to the sensuousness experienced here. Thanks Lori!

Chocolate cupcakes with butter cream frosting.