The sight of spring cherry blossoms can move me to tears. I remember kneeling down to pick up a handful of the incredibly soft, blush-pink flowers under the tree near my mother’s hospice window. I carried them up to her room and laid them on the window sill.

She passed away this month, five years ago. My dad also left in May, two years before Mom. It seems so strange now – in some ways it feels like yesterday but so very much has happened in the intervening time. I feel like I’ve been slowly evolving…

Have you ever had the feeling that you’re not the person you were before, but you’re not entirely sure who you are at this moment? I’ve been feeling that way for some time now.

For a major part of my life, I knew precisely who I was and what I was doing, at least in terms of my career:  I was a professional organizer, the author of two best-selling books, and a continual innovator in my field. But shortly after my mom’s death, I began to feel like I was drifting – not really anchored and certainly not focused on moving “ahead”. I was able to enjoy present moments, but I no longer had the sense of being on MY road.

As my husband (a former air-traffic controller) was now retired, I assumed that I was just entering my own retirement phase of life where old goals would give way to new activities more suited to this stage. So I continued to drift. I discovered scrapbooking which I thought was a wonderful new hobby. I volunteered with Sedona’s Senior Citizen Referral Specialist, helping her to organize her cabinets and files full of resource information. I mentored some up-and-coming entrepreneurs.

And then I got a call from TLC (TV’s “The Learning Channel”), asking me if I would like to be an organizer for an episode of the second season of their new show on hoarders. Given that I had been out of the professional organizing loop for a few years, this was a flattering invitation. I said “sure”, and they put me into their data base, pending the location of a client in my geographic area.

I was initially enthused about the offer, but as weeks passed, I started to feel uncomfortable. I would watch the show and realize that it depressed me as opposed to challenging me. What was up with that? I didn’t know what to make of my reaction.

Some friends and I get together for a monthly “High Tea and Jazz” at a local tea shop. Last month we were enjoying our tiny sandwiches and white ambrosia tea, when the woman refilling our cups asked if any of us would like to have a tea leaf reading with the shop’s psychic. We all thought that sounded like fun, and put our names down.

I never expected to hear what that reader told me, or that what she had to say would put me squarely back on my path.

I sat down at the table with her, and after some general observations she asked me if I had any questions. I started to mention the hoarders show, and before the question was out of my mouth, she put up her hand to stop me. “Don’t do it”, she said. “Why?” I asked. She replied, “It’s too dark for you. The energy is too dark.” I immediately felt a tremendous sense of relief. She had clearly affirmed my gut feeling.

She then said, “There’s something else that you’re doing…” I told her about my scrapbooking and working with the Senior Referral specialist and she practically jumped out of her chair. “That’s it!” I had been thinking about offering a workshop for seniors on how to create a personal legacy, combining organizing, journaling and scrapbooking.

She advised me to put together a course for the Adult Learning Center that is affiliated with our local college. She said to offer the course twice to make sure that it was as good as I could make it, and then she said to “take it on the road”. I just stared at her with my mouth open. “I thought I was through with the inventing and writing part of my life.” And she laughed at me. LAUGHED.

“You have no idea what the Universe has in mind for you,” she smiled.”This project of yours is important, it’s needed and it’s going to be big.”

Well well well. It appears that there really are second acts in life. I should know that by now considering that my father changed his life completely, with huge success, following a near-fatal heart attack.

The very next day, I submitted a proposal to the Adult Learning Center, and will be teaching a class there next fall. I’m excited to see what I come up with, and how this may translate into book material. And it being the month that it is, I sense my mother’s and fathers’ hands in this.

I do believe that along with grief and unknowing, there can be rebirth, second acts, and cherry blossoms.

photo credit Curtin1

Remember this telephone? When I was growing up in the 1950’s – 1960’s, one of these phones hung on our kitchen wall. If I could reach right into the photo, I’d still be able to dial my home phone number: Windsor 4-4587.  No area code of course. My grandmother’s was Rogers 4-3191. My dad’s business was Hopkins 7-1874. My cousin’s was Hunter 4-0015.

When I called my cousin I would dial her number — her house phone number, that is, because there was no cell number to call back then. If a person at her end was using the phone, I’d hear the *beep beep beep* of the busy signal. No notification that I was calling and no voice mail. I’d just hang up and call back later. If I did get through, I had no idea who would be picking up the phone. It could be my cousin, or her brother, or my aunt or uncle. It was usually the person closest to the phone. And they had no idea who was calling them. There was no Caller ID for them to check.

So what you had were two people – the caller and the callee - who had no clue as to who would be on the other end of the phone line. Now while you might say, today, that this process seems to be a time-waster, I would beg to differ.

Yes, I was calling my cousin, Sally, but how long had it been since I’d spoken to her brother, Richard, or my Aunt Marilyn or Uncle Morty? By having one of them answer the phone before Sally, I would have the opportunity, if I wanted to, to catch up a bit with the Marcus family as a whole, which could be an efficient, fun thing to do.

Fast forward to 2010. If I want to speak to more than one member of a family living in the same house, and they don’t have a land line (which is on its way out) it isn’t going to happen unless someone passes their cell phone around. Which occurs of course. But what’s more likely to transpire is that I’ll call my daughter, for example, on her cell phone, and if her husband isn’t there when I call, I don’t get to say hi to him. And I may not get to say hi for awhile unless I find a good time to call his cell phone or he decides to call me.

What we’ve done is eliminate an entire level of casual conversation and connection from our lives. There’s no serendipity here anymore. And while I’m not arguing against progress, I have to say that I miss that old equivalent of chatting across the backyard fence.

Again – I wouldn’t want a return to the days before Caller ID. Of course, back in the ‘50’s and ‘60’s we weren’t subjected to tele-marketers, so it was less stressful to pick up a ringing phone. And I really prefer having the option to leave a message rather than being subjected to that angry –sounding busy signal.

But I wish I didn’t have to be so darn “intentional” when I pick up the phone. I can call, and reach, only one person at a time. Yes, there’s speakerphone, but I still associate that choice with the advent of tele-conferencing which makes me feel too formal. And yes, I can conference in more than one number at a time, but it still feels too much like an arranged meeting. Same with Skype.

It’s kind of like the difference between letting your kids out in the neighborhood to play for the day, as opposed to arranging scheduled play-dates. I accept that it’s a different world now than when I grew up, but I loved being able to naturally live more in “flow”.

So what can we do to allow more of that natural flow into our lives? How do we create the conditions that encourage synchronicities to be abundant? Intention does play a part here, in that we have to “intend” for this to come about. We have to be open to living at least part of our lives in a less programmed, more fluid way. We need to understand that unplanned connections are essential for things to unfold in a way that we didn’t see could happen.

There is such joy to be found in spontaneous connection. You know how you feel when you come across that special book or movie that you never realized was so powerful and moving? Planning is good, but there is much goodness out there which can’t be planned.

One wonderful creation that didn’t exist in my younger years is the internet, and in particular, Facebook and Twitter. I’m beginning to think that these may be the “party lines” and even land-lines of our parents’ generation. They provide a way of tuning into the larger picture and making connections that probably wouldn’t be made without the advent of social media.

I do look at that phone above with nostalgia. But, truth be told, I’m glad that I can now make a call without putting my finger into a hole and dragging it around the dial. I’m glad not to be holding a receiver that weighed so much. Of course, there was one big advantage to that big ol’ telephone on the wall compared to today’s iphone: You couldn’t lose it.

How’s that for a title?

At some point in my life, I’ve had problems in every one of these areas as have many, if not most people. And I’ve learned something:

It’s not about the money, politics, religion, sex, or family.

These are the issues that call up the lessons we need to master. The lessons occur in these familiar arenas so that we have a context in which to work. If we can learn that the issue is not about what it seems to be about, we can move more quickly on our way.

Let’s take family for example. My daughter and I are working together on planning her wedding in October. For the most part, things have gone smoothly but every few weeks we seem to have some sort of communications problem. We will mis-hear an intention or a piece of information and experience the frustration that comes with feeling misunderstood.

But what is really going on? Is it about the flowers? The menu? The location of Dollar Stores in Brevard, NC? I don’t believe so and it’s been such a relief to figure this out.

I can trace virtually every misunderstanding we’ve had to some sort of fear – on my daughter’s part or on mine. My fears usually come down to either: “Can I do it? Can I do it well enough?” or “Am I being a good enough mother?” Now these aren’t rational fears; they’re perfectionistic concerns that have always been underlying factors for me in these types of situations. But before I remember the “real” issues, I tend to be sucked in by the masked marauders.

I’m getting better though. I understand that Lauren just wants to know that I’m here for her. She most assuredly does not want to come off as Bridezilla. It’s actually fascinating how much of what we argue about has little to do with what we’re arguing about. There are subtle power struggles going on that are reflections of our basic fears: “How will it all get done? Who will do it?” This is in spite of the truths that we’re all doing the best we know how to do, and that in all likelihood it will be a wonderful day regardless of the imperfections.

No, we fall into the trap of believing that it’s about the problems we encounter.

How about the money one? Again, money arguments often revolve around fear – questions about our own worth and our ability to provide for the ones we love. This recession has done a number on all of us and for our family, the wedding budget definitely took a hit. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing because it forced us to have some very productive discussions about values and priorities. But it also meant that dreams were scaled back.

Even religion came up, not as a problem, but as a factor because of  the different religious backgrounds. My daughter and her fiancé want to be sure to include the most sensitive and important traditions for both. Discussions about religion, of course, can be landmines of emotion because of the nature of belief. While I was not privy to their personal discussions, I went down this road myself when my husband and I got married seven years ago. We made it a point to state in our vows that we wanted to honor and respect each other’s backgrounds and individual beliefs.

And each other’s politics. Roy and I don’t always agree on the subject and we’ve learned, painfully sometimes, not to go there when we fundamentally disagree. We realize that what we most want from each other is personal respect and acceptance and that that doesn’t require identical positions on current events.

I don’t think that I’ll muse about anyone’s sexual issues here. The point remains the same, that sex is just an arena, as are the other areas, in which to work out whether you’re coming to a situation from love or from fear. If you understand what’s motivating you or blocking you, you can see where the challenges are in your life. Ask yourself, “Is this mostly a matter of preference or is there something that I’m actually afraid of?”

Going back to the wedding…I’m pretty darn proud of all of us. There are actually 3 sets of parents involved in the planning (because the ceremony and reception will be held at the groom’s parents’ house), along with the wedding couple, and we’ve all chosen to look at the opportunities inherent in the challenges we’ve had so far. It’s been a choice, each step of the way, and we know that it will always be a choice.

I believe that it’s working because we’re all focused where we should be – not on the problems that may come up, but on celebrating Lauren and Eric’s new beginning in life.

 “Without music, life would be a mistake.”

                                         –  Friedrich Nietzsche

I don’t know when I first heard this quote but it has always resonated with me. I once had one of those horrifying “Sophie’s Choice”-type conversations with a friend: “If you had to lose either your vision or your hearing, which would you choose?” Well, loving to read the way that I do this decision seemed almost impossible until I realized that “reading” would still be available to me through Braille or someone else’s voice, but music? I simply can’t imagine life without music.

Maybe this is because music serves so many purposes in my life. It’s not just entertainment. It’s language and memory. It’s a way to time-travel and a way to center myself. It’s a mood-producer and mood-enhancer. Given this love affair with music, one would think that I’d be endowed with some talent in this department. Oh, I can play a little piano-by-ear but that’s about it. Perhaps I was a great composer in another lifetime but this time around I’ve just been given a huge fascination with the subject.

I love reading about song-writers, particularly those that composed during the decade in which I grew up, the 60’s. I’m captivated by the lives of people who have music running through their brains, and this love of the lifestyle has led me to some very interesting places.

For instance, in the early 60’s I adored the harmonies of Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys. I found that the combination of their voices on songs like Surfer Girl, In My Room and Warmth of the Sun calmed me in ways I couldn’t describe. (Since I didn’t understand the harmonic attraction, I attributed my feelings to the looks of their drummer, Dennis Wilson). Although I didn’t stay a fan through the 70’s and 80’s, I found myself coming ‘round again in the late 1990’s. I was becoming familiar with the internet, and someone suggested that I try looking up sites connected with old interests.

So I searched out The Beach Boys and Brian Wilson and wound up in a chat room. Not only did I learn a lot about the production of music, I also (incidentally) met my future husband there. I’ve actually come to believe that it wasn’t incidental at all; rather, that those seeds were planted in the early 60’s (or who knows when in cosmic time) so that when the hour came, Roy and I would recognize each other through our mutual love of this sound, and have the opportunity to build on that.

Obviously we’ve all been attracted by different kinds of music and artists and bands but how much of that attraction has wound itself into our life stories? I’d be willing to bet that it’s a large amount. Not only the people we’ve met along the way, but the way music helps us process these relationships. (Aside: my daughter is about to marry a hugely talented musician.

For me, music is a special doorway into the past that is powerful beyond my comprehension. It unlocks memories and emotions that I can’t get to any other way.

I’m currently working on a memoir of sorts and I find it interesting what I can recall and what stays stubbornly just out-of-reach. When I get stuck, I play some songs from the time period I’m working with and it’s as if the key suddenly appears and smoothly turns the lock on the door containing those memories. And even if I can’t remember the specifics, I can still feel the emotion of that time. Tracking the emotion often gets me back to what I’m after.

Have you ever been plunged into a forgotten phase of your life just by hearing a song from those days? It’s an amazing experience. I have such a vivid recollection of when I was maybe 5 years old and was in the den with my father. He was listening to Ravel’s Bolero on our new stereo and I was “marching” to the music around and around the coffee table. I was mesmerized by that composition and the way it kept getting louder and more insistent. I believe that it was one of my early major “flow” experiences. And I remember being in 6^th grade music class when a very inventive teacher suggested that we close our eyes, listen to Peer Gynt’s “In The Hall Of The Mountain King” and then draw whatever the music made us feel and see.

I have such respect for musicians (and of course other kinds of artists) who work intensely for years, honing their craft and then creating out of the best their imaginations can offer. We’re all so fortunate to be able to enjoy their creations, and then take those gifts and use them to inspire gifts of our own.