Forgiveness and Self Love

I’ve decided to forgive myself. I have generations of women I’m carrying along with me. That’s okay, they deserve forgiveness too.


It’s been a long time coming as forgiveness – in my case – is also tied up with being in the present. Not forgiving myself had the unintended consequence of keeping me stuck in my past and in my mind’s future. This recurring predicament happened because I too easily slipped into those time slots as though they were current. In these time/space continuums, I’d allow a past or possible future issue to live in my present and alter my equilibrium.

This forgiveness, which has taken me so long to achieve, and which I know is more than a one time occurrence, I simply chose to grant myself. Today.

I want to spend my time in the present, the here and now. This lesson has piggybacked on the forgiveness lesson, both needing acknowledgment and acceptance to show themselves. I fought the idea of forgiveness partly because I didn’t know how to achieve it. I was in the past where I could not affect change, or in the future where I had no power.


This is a lesson I have learned and forgotten more than once. I was acutely aware of time when my parents were terminally ill because being in the present was the only timing that mattered. The severity of the situation helped keep me there, it was more circumstantial than zen on my part. Still, I experienced it. Then life settled down, and back I went to old familiar ways of being.

On January 20th, I will be celebrating a five year anniversary with the man I plan to spend the rest of my life with.

When my mother told me shortly before her death that I should be with someone who has integrity, is generous, accepts my children, and treats me like a queen – I understood but that didn’t make it happen any sooner. It took another two years. Get thee not riled my feminist friends- being someone’s queen is not a bad thing, it’s glorious when offered authentically. It can signify devotion, love, and respect.

And most of us, men and women alike, deserve that.

Paper Heart2

My mother, you may remember, was one of the first women other than nurses to join the US Army so her feminism and heroism and courage must not be misjudged. She was exceptional, political, difficult, honest and she loved me without reservation.

So for now, feeling content and protected in the moment is where I choose to remain. I’ll also work to stay conscious so as not to give myself a hard time when I realize I have not. I will meditate, gently make corrections, and continue along the road. Sometimes you have to take a breath, stay committed and open, and see what happens.

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The More I Know…

Today, still in pajamas by mid afternoon, with snowflakes thick as confetti streaming past my window, I sit down to write. I’ve had a mild stomach virus since yesterday, and have been reading Elie Wiesel’s memoir All Rivers Run to the Sea.


History is fascinating, something my mother always told me and something I chose not to consider as a young woman because I found it boring and her annoying. Another example of youthful foolishness or perhaps just a time/space continuum it’s taken me decades to embrace and catch up on. A neophyte I remain and I will never stop missing her.

No matter who you are, or what you like, if you haven’t read any of Elie Wiesel’s work, as a member of the human race you owe it to yourself to do so. Not only is he erudite, and a resonant writer, he stands for global citizenship. He rears at injustice and suffering (and he’s had his share), chooses to learn, stick with his community, holds himself and others to a high standard, and fights for a better tomorrow.

Thoughts tumble, like the snow storm, making it hard to hold on to any of them. A gestalt of white swirling and descending, precipitation and gravity, a whirr of silent particles – beautiful and secret. The speed of descent is beyond my ability to decipher. I want more time, I often want more time.


Snapping photos with my phone, I try to catch the flakes falling. Without a zoom I fail, even though the sky is expelling them with a vengeance. Accumulation on trees, roads and lawns is significant. A neighborhood washed clean.

An interesting aspect of history is how often specifics of human behavior are repeated (genocide, war, hatred, injustice). It remains a menacing problem and there is no simplistic or consistent answer – each point in time declaring details that deserve an independent evaluation, even when it looks like we recognize it. Variables are wide and many and staggering.

Reminds me that no matter how much I learn or think I know, there’s always room for more. And that makes me glad to be alive.

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Ties That Bind


Finishing last week’s New York Times Magazine section (I know, it takes me way too long to read stuff and we aren’t even discussing the books!) I came upon an article on friendship. The author was discussing a friend he had in Ireland when he was a child, and how he hasn’t seen him in decades. He has no photo of his friend, doesn’t know if he’s alive, living on Mars, singing in a rock band. There was no social media to preserve their young faces.

During the holiday season in particular, but truly more often, I think about how loosely the word ‘friend’ is used. Has technology degraded the meaning of the word? “She has 4036 Facebook friends.” Really? You don’t know half of them. Friends that follow you on a screen but know little about your real life; like your favorite color, whether you like cats or dogs or both, what books you read, when your heart last broke. And if by some fluke one did have 4036 friends, how exhausting it would be to repeat your story that many times. Ugh – kill me now.

Acquaintances and followers are not friends, they are just names. Friendship has a depth, a richness, that cannot be rushed, or counted in Likes, it must be cultivated and that takes time. Instantaneous friendships are not friendships. They require no commitment, there is no loyalty. These ‘friends’ will not show up when you lose your job, your baby is sick, or your parent dies.

And we have no one but ourselves to blame. Friendship and its many iterations is a slice of life, for good friends-family members-spouses, it can be a big slice, with lots of layers and flavors. Andrew O’Hagan, the author of this article, states: “…it’s the art of friendship that warms you in the various winters of your discontent…”

Friendship is powerful, let us not dilute the concept with superficiality and distance.

When you are in trouble you don’t need 4000 people, you need a few good friends, who can make the difference the other 4000 can’t.


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Festive, Revisited

Three years ago.. another office party in two days…and still relevant.

Wendy Karasin - Musings of a Boomer

Frigid temperatures and brilliant sunshine await as I step outside to begin my long ride to Connecticut for the office Christmas party. It turns from a ride to a trek when outside Greenwich, traffic slows to a crawl. I have mixed feelings about the evening. I don’t know the majority of the cast of characters, none of the significant others (of which I am part), office party etiquette, and whether what I am wearing (black with lavender accents) will prove festive.

Image Deep lavender nails.

My significant other and I, in a flood of fast paced movement, switch from my car to his and race (because we are late) to the home of an office principal, where the cocktail portion of the party began almost an hour earlier. Pulling up to a white house, with circular drive, bigger than any home I know (whatever that means) had me gasping for air.

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New York State of Mind

If politics has the power to pull us apart, music has the power to unify us. Saw Billy Joel last night at Madison Square Garden, what an enduring talent. The audience was young and old, black and white, red and blue, differing in mindsets, economic backgrounds, and educational levels. We sat side by side, swaying, singing, and dancing. Like adults, like the global, peaceful and exceedingly happy citizens we were.

The power of musicians…


and their music…

on the people.

See my Facebook Author page below to view the videos (I attempted to load them on this blog, but they never got past the ‘loading’ stage – which lasted over 60 minutes. My patience has its limits).

Enjoy, and happy thanksgiving.



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Youth Obsessed

Why, with what we know about wisdom, time, and experience, are we still a nation of youth following fanatics? I see no issue enjoying the beauty and innocence of youth – I do so daily – but when we run in reverse to hold onto a look and feel that no longer belongs to us – we miss where we are now. We foolishly dismiss all we’ve gained through the years. This is not only disturbing, it’s destructive.

Life provides its stumbles, but if we are consistently looking backward, we are traveling in the wrong direction.


The beauty of youth is not the beauty of middle or old age, and that’s as it should be. But let us save the baby from the doom of being discarded with the bath water.

Youth is smooth skin, strength and vitality of conviction, wonderful and often untried ideas, the excitement and stimulation of perpetual motion.

With the advent of age come wrinkles, but we are no less beautiful. We slow down to notice and smell red, pink and yellow roses. We own more information and experience than most young people can imagine. We are softer around the edges, and usually, our hearts have been through enough for us to embrace a compassion that the young may see as weakness. We know better – and someday – so will they. Sometimes young people are curtailed by their age, although there is the occasional old soul.


Youth is a wondrous and magical time along with its stresses and growing pains. Getting older can be a time with pluses too – we are usually more settled, more confident, more comfortable in our own skin.  We have our battle scars, aches and pains and wrinkles but all in all, the stages of our life are magnificent, each with its own set of challenges and obstacles.

The trick is enjoying the stage we are in, now.








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Women And Their Friendships

I received a link for this Huffington Post article today from a friend.

The 5 Types Of Friends Worth Holding Onto For Dear Life
The Huffington Post – US

Over the past 10 days, I’ve said goodbye to my two oldest kids. My 21-year-old headed back to college and my 18-year-old headed off to Brazil for the start of a gap year. Fortunately, my husband and I have two more years with our youngest, a 16-year-old daughter. Even so, I’m experiencing the same kind of visceral wrench I always do when I bid farewell to one of my kids. It’s literally a physical ache, a mourning of an active, joyous household held together ― in part ― by the glue of … Read the full story

It is too good not to share. Enjoy the read.

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