reconnaissant

give thanks

1. Pie

2. Incredible Young Women
3. Wild Things
4. Not So Reckless Abandon
5. Confessors 
6. The whole world
7. Beginnings
8. Bold Ideas
9. Courage
10. October 3 - 6, 2012


photo taken by author, brooklyn flea market, october 2010.

more than a zipper

Zipper.
I forgot about mine.
Neema says it's the little things.
The woman is true.

For the long drawn out back story keep reading. To remain mysterious and intrigued, stop now. Either way you get to read the name of one who is stunning.

*****

Sitting in church today I realized I had forgotten to zip up the back of my dress. It happens. Living alone means when I forget to finish getting dressed, there is no one to call out as I'm walking out the door, "Hey, zip up."

I started thinking about older women who have lost the agility to do their own zipping. And those who may live with a partner of decades, but they no longer speak, not the way they used to, and asking for help would be out of the question. As usual, my mind floated to my teacher in Tanzania and her wise words about remembering the little things that are, in reality, never small.

(thanks to the Nov. 21 edition of post secret for the intrigued photo)

(oops photo courtesy of Jiji's flickr page)

everything

I can’t remember which one of the amazingly wise women in my life first pointed it out to me, but I will never forget the pointing out - - - in John 4 where the woman at the well runs to her community to share the good news that she just met the Messiah.  And she tells them, “. . . he knew everything about me.”

We all long to be known for who we really are. Often, we are afraid that if people authentically knew us – knew who we were when we weren’t on our best behavior - they wouldn’t like us anymore. But truly knowing someone means knowing their issues.

A recent porch conversation with a friend had me babbling about the past. I spilled an old crusty story. After finishing I thought, “Why did I tell her all of that?” I left feeling like a bad listener. The next day, while sitting with a different friend, I became the recipient of an old story. She finished, looked at me and said, “Why am I telling you this?”

We tell our friends our stories, old and new, because the stories matter. We tell our friends stories because there are times when we need someone to listen, even when our tales are tedious and seemingly unimportant. The exciting and mundane parts of us long to be known. 

Authentic relationships mean knowing the layered-ness of our friends:  polite, impolite, hurtful and kind. Tenured friendships that are consensual, honest, non exploitative, mutually pleasurable, and protected, encourage the long haul. And this world is too complicated for anything less than the long haul. 

s

photo courtesy of mugley

no more sides

Lately I keep bumping into sides - "Laura's side", "Rose, Margaret, and Sylvia's side", "middle school girls' side" and "high school girls' side". There are sides for the girls who, "wear their skirts too short" and the ones who, "get away with everything and we never do anything wrong." Ugh, sides are dizzying. 


How do we teach that the, "we are all in this together side," is the best place to land?


We need each other - short skirts, long skirts, decided to wait, decided not to wait . . . we need each other regardless. Women, we must love one another. No more sides, K?  
S


thanks to geyerba for the friend photo.