What Will It Take To Make Me Happy?

My therapist asked me this question the other day:  

"What will it take to make you happy?"

It was a good question.  It's been two years since I made the decision to leave my marriage and left.  I've been back and forth to the house physically over those two years — but not to the marriage. Tough. Up and down. Still sad.  And uncertain about what my "new normal" looks like — but over all, across many aspects, I'm living happier and feeling so much better.  

Now I'm spending my time, energy and finances (for the most part) on myself — a new experience. Totally new. My truth is that most of my life I made myself somewhat indispensable (or at least valuable) by taking care of things for others.  By doing that I got the attention I needed; the attention that wasn't available at home.  Good behavior got me attention (since second grade).  But that automatic-robo focus on the external (It's-all-his-fault) and lack of focus on my internal (What's my part in this?) in part created the unhappiness I found myself living in.  

From young adulthood on, my driven, commanding (ever-worried) behavior got me great jobs, made me great friends, paid our way (partially) through life (along with my persistent frugality).  But it wasn't all beneficial. Not for me or my relationships.  I trusted next to nothing.  If I wasn't hyper-vigilant, something bad was going to happen.  And a married a guy who virtually never worried (way before I came along) and thought about it even less after we married because mastermind-me was always on the job.  It was a vicious cycle.

We're both free of that now.  It's a better, easier, happier life — but it came at a price. And now, moving forward means leaving behind the only male partner I've had for 36 years.  It doesn't come easy!  Hard to turn off the motor in my mind that still looks for the clothes I think he needs (in thrift stores, of course) or still wants to pass along info I think he could use, or still thinks about feeding him the leftovers I know he'd enjoy having.  But that coupled life is no longer my reality.  My reality is grieving the loss of the marriage and grieving the loss of couple-dom, and I need to sit with that.  Something I don't find easy to do.

My daughter is going through a break-up and she's decided to write about it, which is SO healthy.   And it reminded me how I've shirked writing about my own transition.  From where I sit, it seems too hard to categorize or define or even know what my life is day to day.  How to write about that?  

What's on the table for me right now is so uncertain, so nebulous, that I scarce wanna write about it — but writing about it is what helps.  At least for me.  And I'd guess for our daughter, too. [FYI, that was just a place of transition for me, choosing to write "our" instead of "my" daughter.]  Anyway, none of this territory is known to me.  

I make choices every day and only as they benefit me.  I don't really need to consider anyone else — or if I do, it's because I CHOOSE to.  It's such a relief — such a gift to just focus on what I want and not need to take anything else into consideration.  Amazingly freeing.

And yet I've had two health scares recently (urgent care/ER) and at least one will require surgery pretty immediately and being on your own makes you feel really vulnerable. All the progress you've made on feeling strong and being able to exist solo, fritters away when you're in the ER and someone is asking, "Emergency contact?"

It's hard to write about this stuff, this transition.  It's always shifting to me.  But writing about it (along with time spent in therapy) forces me to examine it and that helps me learn from it.  I've examined a lot in my life and in real depth — but not examined myself.  I haven't been in help-myself mode in, well, forever.  At least that's how it feels.  It's a frightening business — but it's a must.

One of these days, I'll get into a writing routine again; find some "new normal", but it's not right now.  

Bear with me— it may take time, but I'm gonna figure out how to truly make myself happy. 

Dear President Trump

This is my postcard on this Ides of Trump...

Dear President Trump,

First let me say, I did not vote for you.  Being from the Northeast I certainly knew of you, may have respected your business acumen in real estate, certainly gave nod to your ability to stay pretty near the top of some game as the decades passed; acknowledged that you're a Survivor. You're a contestant who eventually becomes the host of the show.  

Your congressional speech was aspirational; as those speeches are.  And yes, it didn't offer any details on how you would pay for your vision of what you want your Presidency to achieve, but neither do any of those speeches.  And while I realize it was only words, I was glad to see that you could restrain your tendencies.         At least once.

As a former teacher and an always-educator, my message to you is I'd like to remind you that you are the role model for millions of individuals who look up to and hold their President in esteem. You and your words, actions, and behaviors, impact millions — especially those citizens who aren't yet voters — our young people.

I say this because many, many years back, when I was giving a workshop on academic integrity with the eighth-grade class at a private, elite academy, one of the students justified his choice of actions by saying, "Well if the President can lie, why can't I?"  I was dumbfounded.  Not just at what this student said and believed, but at the fact that not one other adult in the room chose to tackle the ethical issues raised by that response.  

I bring this story up because it was in reference to then-President Clinton. Despite the fact that I am in disbelief at much of what you are doing, that is your right to do.  This is a democracy, flaws and all; it is what we've got, what has worked, what is often envied, and what people fight for.  Democracy will work its way through this the way it always has.  It lies in the words and actions of our elected officials and the populace.  While I'm waiting for democracy to work,  I can't abide by the lack of standard you are setting for our children.  Nor can I understand how those who support you can overlook the crassness and the lack of decency in your daily behavior.

Almost immediately after the inauguration of the Trump presidency, in two very different settings (one on an airplane and the other in a college campus paper) I heard examples of young people behaving in ways I found disturbing.  One was a reference to a student overhearing a few other students openly talking in a racist way while walking across their college campus.  The other way was a college professor headed back to his campus in another state, recounting that all of a sudden some students were balking at the partners they were being teamed with, etc.  To me that was appalling.  And like it or not, you, the President, gave them license to behave that way.

President Trump, here's what I'd ask: Isn't there a way for you to fulfill your new role, do the work you want to do but do it in a more positive, character-building way because it's what's best for all our children?  

I'm not asking you to stop tweeting, but does every day have to be a day that you disparage someone or some group?  Does every day have to be a day that you spout untruths?  Why not do your job without doing that?  I know it's not how you're used to behaving, but you're not in the real estate business NOW (well, at least you shouldn't be).

It's in no one else's control; what you say and do sets a standard for a portion of our populace.   I understand the focus on a bottom-line business approach and attention to more efficiency because we've gotten very top-heavy and incredibly sluggish about how our government runs.  I'm all in favor of improving THAT.  But I deplore how you are governing.  I rail at your lack of discipline and your choice to be uncivil and unwelcoming to those who most need the protection of the Presidency.  

I expect my President to be truthful and compassionate and just — that is what I wish and want and hope for, because it is what everyone who loves America deserves.  Other postcards will say much more, but today I'm focusing on the thing I believe you CAN change.

President Trump, we can disagree on just about everything else but can't we agree that all our children deserve to feel safe from the fear of being uprooted from their families?  Can't we agree that every student deserves to feel safe from harm, be it verbal or physical?  Can't we agree that making America great is making it strong AND kind AND inclusive?

I can.

I hope you can.

This Is Us...Really

USA is showing a THIS IS US marathon and I find myself re-watching and feeling even more than I felt seeing this show the first time. It's got everything you've seen or wished for in a family — a Dad who's a dreamer but shows love; a reluctant mom who clearly does her best but is flawed.  There's sibling rivalry, not fitting in, weight, cancer, success, fame, dying, regret, family — relationships.

I know people don't understand my deep connection to watching TV.  Television is a source for me.  Of company, of information, of sentiment, and vicarious emotion.  When I'm feeling lonely, disconnected, sad, depressed, I find something to watch that will fix that for me.  

It seems frivolous I know.  But there are so many pluses for me watching TV:  It's right here and it's here all the time; I've already paid for it; and between satellite and Netflix and Showtime and HBO, I can usually find something that will give me what I'm seeking.  I don't have to risk that I'll seek something and it won't be gotten.

My friend Susan believes it's better to ask — even if you don't get what you're asking for — than not to ask at all. I don't feel that way.  Yet.  It's too disappointing and too hurtful and too — well — just "too".

But I understand that when you don't ask, you definitely have no chance of getting.

My struggle (well, one of them anyway) is to let go of the outcome.  That's what a therapist tells me.  Let Go of the Outcome.  Let go of resentment and regret.  Let go of expectations.  Let it all go.  I'm trying.

I understand the concept and it makes sense to me, but it's one of those easier said than done.  But I'm trying. And at times, I'm succeeding.  So far my best success — I think — has been with some of my friends and my daughter.  Still a ways to go with the son and the once-husband.

So This Is Us allows me to see a family — across time — struggling and loving and hurting and supporting in ways that virtually never existed in my family.  I get to watch how they do it and I get to momentarily feel the bonds of being with a family.  I hope we managed to live that give-and-take for our kids so that they'll have a better sense of what it means to be in a relationship, to have a family.

That voyeuristic view of family life (whether it's real or not) allows me to experience what I currently lack in my life.  

Right now, luckily, I'm really pretty happy.

I love my little home.  It's filled with everything I absolutely love, arranged just as I like, only used by me and for the first time in I do not know how long (if ever) I'm neat.  Everything is in its place.  I'm no longer sloppy but I'm also not racing and juggling to manage and provide for a family of four.  

It is just me.

What a change.  I'm continually surprised by what can change.  

I had an open house on New Year's Day.  Twenty-six people came, it was wonderful, my daughter was there and saw my new place for the first time, and for the first time EVER, I didn't kill myself to have company!

I didn't have to stress about cleaning up days before everyone came because pretty much everything was already clean.  I didn't go overboard on getting drinks or food and I almost cooked NOTHING.  I had a great time, I was relaxed and I didn't pay for it in a horrible way.  HOORAY!

I miss having a fireplace and of course the companionship of someone next to me, but all in all, I'm enjoying my life at the moment and I feel secure.

So while I may be watching This Is Us — finally, joyfully, amazingly — 
I'm much more intently watching —  This Is Me.

My 2017 Resolutions

A curious thing has been happening lately — I am getting to know who I am.  This sounds odd I realize, but without all the work of caretaking and caregiving — of every person I lived with, worked with, gave birth to, or crossed paths with — I am finally taking care of one person only — ME.

And I realize I don't really know myself because I have always shrugged off what people told me about me.  I assumed that everyone was just like me but I find that's not true.  

Recently I learned that most people I've asked say that when they stand up for themselves, when they assert themselves, they feel vulnerable.  I don't.  I don't know why I don't feel vulnerable but I don't.  I pretty much always say what I think and what I feel.  Yes, at times it gets me in trouble, causes me difficulty, gains me admiration, but it doesn't elicit any sense of vulnerability and yet, I'm allowing myself to be vulnerable to show what's inside.  I am perplexed at this.

People tell me I'm a good writer.  I usually think that most people can write well and that the individual is just being nice to me.  Now I'm starting to take that feedback in and allow myself to see that this is a talent that I can and should identify with.

So in the spirit of writing my truths, and discovering who I REALLY am, here are my New Year's Resolutions:

• I'm going to finally use all those beautiful soaps that people have given me or I have gotten over the years — because I was "saving them ." [Recently I was given a lovely set of four bars from my dear "rescued-and-took-me-home-from-a Broadway-play friend. Here's what I did with them.]

• I'm going to realize that if I want my scalp stimulated, I'm going to have to brush my own hair for pleasure — and other things too.

• I'm gonna try my best to continue living what Oprah might call, my "authentic" life.  I don't really know what she exactly says about that (because she's said and written so much) but it seems pretty self-evident.  My interpretation?  That I'm trying to focus on looking inward and then looking outward to understand how what I say and do impacts others.  At times, it's the exact opposite of my intention!  I'm often blind-sided by how something I've said makes the other person feel.

• I'm going to continue "letting go and allowing the current to take me," as my hometown dear friend wrote me.  I hadn't thought of it that way, but my college buddy said much the same thing to me when she said, "Let it just evolve.  You don't need to have a plan."  I needed that because I've been letting it concern me that I don't have a plan; that I don't know what "my new normal" is.

• I'm going to continue to be responsible but also enjoy things.  This is the very first time in my life that I have a financial cushion. (And it feels fabulous!!!)

• I'm going to work toward having a true adult relationship with my children who are really not children but young adults (but will always be "my children").  And I'm going to keep on navigating my relationship with their father because despite the split, we are still a family.
• I'm going to get back into a routine of writing here regularly.  Not the twice a week regularity I had for almost three years, but commit to SOME routine. 

• I'm going to dance more!  This gives me great pleasure and — now that my son gave me a Libratone Zipp — it's something I can do at home.
  In fact I can dance any time, anywhere. (I can be seen dancing at a Manhattan bus stop or in my car on line to get gas at Costco...)

• And finally, I'm going to be more grateful (every day) for ALL that I have — most especially for all the love and support and guidance I have gotten from my dear, dear friends and from all of you.

For the first time in forever, I think these are New Year's resolutions I can keep.

Health and happiness to you and yours in 2017...

Trying To Make Sense of What Makes No Sense

All day I have been trying, trying, trying to absorb the outcome of the election.  I feel utterly dumbfounded. Despondent.  Disturbed.  And I'm not the only one.

www.hillaryclinton.com

True, I wasn't a huge fan of Hillary's; never have been.  But I totally believed she was the most experienced, competent person to do the job.  I was certainly voting for her because the other choice was no choice.  And while I didn't give her any money (I have an abhorrence of the amount of money spent on political campaigning and refuse to contribute to it), I did register voters twice, and spent multiple, multiple hours phone banking for the full Democratic ticket and more volunteers.

I wasn't sure my state would go for Hillary but I hoped.  I knew it would be a race, and maybe even a very close one, but I never, NEVER imagined that she would lose.

Hillary Rodham Clinton who had been in public life for thirty years; who had fought for the rights of children and women; who had been First Lady of Arkansas, then First Lady of the United States; a New York Senator, a Presidential candidate, and the Secretary of State during the Obama Administration. Some resume...and yet. 

And yet, in her second bid for the Presidency, surprisingly, she was in a serious battle with a New York businessman who had a mercurial, successful, wealthy, flamboyant, headline subject, reality-TV personality, global brand resume.  A man who was never a public servant, never an employee of the people, never governed anything, never had to by adhere to a stringent set of laws and rules,let alone and manage warring factions who all were constituencies and audiences to be pleased, not walked out on or fired. 

I didn't take Donald Trump's candidacy seriously at first.  I thought he was in it for the hype and the circus.  That any publicity was good publicity and it would certainly energize  his perhaps fading celebrity-brand after fifteen seasons on the air.  I thought he would get wiped out by someone and if not someone, well then, Jeb Bush would certainly swipe him off the face of the ticket.  But it didn't happen.

No matter how outlandish, how outrageous, how offensive, how untruthful, Mr. Trump just kept gaining in popularity.  This told us something.  It told us that people were really looking for someone truly different and they cared more about different than the social norms of present-day politics.  Yes, it was true that Hillary came with baggage, lots of it — between her style which many interpreted as aloof and secretive and domineering; her husband (a full set of luggage on his own); her past with Whitewater, and her present — complete with personal server and emails.  

But what about Trump?  What about his issues with supposed-billions and bankruptcies and no tax returns and being smart about paying no federal taxes and stories of womanizing, and his derogatory statements about women and people of color and people of other countries and people with challenges?    No matter his lack of substance when it came to coherent policy or lack of experience with governing or international diplomacy, or his war-mongering,  often times mocking stance, on this country.   Lets overlook his frequent lack of appropriate language (in open and closed settings) or his repetitive triumvirate of meaningless words: "disaster — rigged — HUGE."  

I really never understood how he managed to continue being the face of the Republican Party's nominee for the highest office in the land.  Here is my first mistake.  That should have told us something big.  He just kept knocking out or pushing past some fairly substantial figures in the race...one after another the promising newcomers and the seasoned legacies of the Party's representatives fell by the wayside and Donald Trump endured.

Still, I did not think that he could beat out Hillary Rodham Clinton. 

Another mistake.

Next there's the issue of how many people really dislike her.  I really did not feel great about the way she seemed in public.  Yes she had the facts, she had the right arguments, she had the views I believed in, but I often thought she seemed smug or condescending.  I knew that wasn't what those close to her felt but it was what I received almost every time I saw her speak.  

Not her concession speech.  In fact that speech was the most authentic I'd ever seen her.  She was composed and caring and conciliatory in a warm, honest way but she also held firm to what she had lost, what she felt and why it was critically important to not see her defeat as DEFEAT.  Even if she wasn't to be at the helm (horribly disappointingly to many millions of voters and to her family, her staff and her SELF) still we were obliged to carry the mantle, continue to be the voice and the presence and the power of the values we shared despite this stunning setback.

I think underneath all the stuff: the Comey "indictment" of a batch of emails on someone else's laptop (and what a someone), the fact that she's an insider-insider; I still believe that it definitely hurt that she's female.  Now I'm not saying she lost because of sexism, but in part — I think she did.  I saw a statistic that said 67% of white, male, non-college educated males voted for Trump and I thought, "Well there's a group that sure wants to support women being equal..."

After turning off the TV at 1:37am (because I couldn't stand watching the inevitable at that point), I fell asleep hoping that it would all look different in the morning. 

It didn't and I was astonished by the depth of my physical reaction (my ulcer which had been dormant for decades decided to make itself known), the depression I felt and my complete inability to comprehend this new reality.   As Hillary said, 

"Donald Trump is going to be our President."

I'm going to try to wrap my head around that one.  To face the fact that after another 80 days or so, after Barack Obama, despite my disbelief, President-Elect Donald Trump will be the Commander-in-Chief.  Could anyone have beat him?  Not Bernie Sanders.  My friend says perhaps Joe Biden who himself is a bit of a loose cannon, but a reasonable, measured one.  I don't think so because he too is a career politician.

  

Donald Trump is going to be our President.  I can only hope that the sheer magnitude of the job awes Trump in a way that tones his everything down, humbles him into realizing that some responsibilities deserve thoughtful, civil, collaborative consideration.  Of course he'll always be who he is — brash and a maverick — but perhaps he can focus and do what he does best, build things.

Infrastructure is a great place to start.  The nation needs it, the parties agree on it, it will put people to work, it will boost the economy, and make monies flow while making everyone safer.  Let that be the legacy of the Trump Presidency — that he orchestrated a second WPA that stabilized the financial situation of a working public and produced a more secure set of roads, bridges, and tunnels.  Let them build these structures and build our economy.  

Just as long as they're not building a wall.

AFP/GettyImages     http://www.dailymail.co.uk

Moving On

It's been six months to the day since I last wrote.  Six straight months of sorting, reliving, moving, discarding, earmarking, revisiting, and preparing for the sale of the stuff and for the sale of the house we've had as our home for the past 23 years.

Physically, it's been daunting.  The amount of things that have gone from house to basement or attic or separate rentals or storage units has been exhausting.  At my age my knees are hurting, my feet are too, and at night, my hip bones ache.  It has all been done in the sweltering heat of an unusually hot southern summer.

Logistically, it has been the challenge of shifting things from here to there, truckloads, carloads, and still — there is always more.  I call it the fishes and the loaves.  You think you're done but you open another door, another closet, another hidden recess, and find there are still items to deal with, to decide, to divest.


Emotionally, it is what you might imagine. An endless confrontation of the memories of every moment you have lived.  I found an album where I had placed every engagement and wedding card we received.  There was a box with each and every gift card and greeting card from the time I was pregnant through their second birthday.  I had no idea that there were specific cards made that said —  "Congratulations!  You're Expecting Twins!"  I had about twelve each of the three designs that were made.  I had no memory of such cards.  

The cards represented all the well wishes, all the outpouring of love — from those we knew and those we didn't.  Gifts from people's mothers I'd never met.  Hand-knit teeny-tiny white baby booties from Jean-Louis' mom in Paris.  Matching hooded sweaters trimmed in blue and pink with pom-pom ties from Susan's co-worker's mom in Nebraska or North Dakota.  Ceramic plates with cherubic babies hand-painted by Aunt Doris on my father's side, with their names and weights and birthdates.  Loving expressions of joy at our great gift of healthy boy-girl twins.

Box after box after bin after bag of photos capturing the moments of our 36 years together — the vacations, the birthdays, the holidays, the milestones — all smiling and hugging and picturing happiness.  

What do you do with the thousands of images that you've stockpiled before things were digital?  The wedding photos, the engagement, bridal and baby showers?  What do you keep?  I, who always had walls and stairwells hung with framed photographs of family.  I don't want them staring me in the face.  Looking at me with eyes that question the close of that life lived.

Others are selling off the art, pottery, jewelry, household goods and knickknacks of my past.  I've kept quite a bit but moving into a house that's one-third the space forces you to be selective and I have been.  Let us hope that my former treasures find places in someone else's home and that they will bring pleasure to others as they once did to me.

I feel relief that it's almost at the end of a long passage.  The six-month road of dismantling what once was.  I feel a sense of lightness and ease at no longer being weighed down by so much.  And even better, I love my new home.

It is a tremendous gift to love where one lives  — to feel a sense of comfort and real happiness — to walk in the door and smile at the things you see.  I feel that here.  I settled in very quickly, probably because I've felt "homeless" for the past twenty months.  My nest is made and I am cocooning at the moment.  When I open my eyes in the morning I see a half wall filled floor-to-ceiling with sixteen pieces of art that I adore.  Lauren's framed wedding invitation with its silvery tree.  The blue castle from college-friend Peggy.  The framed Folon poster all signed on the back from my Random House buddies celebrating my first real apartment in Manhattan. The lovers kissing "In a Sentimental Mood" by Havlicek from Shirley Sender. The tiny painted grove of trees by Norman Kaplanoff bought in the basement of a Ukrainian church on the lower East side for 50¢ (unframed). 

Two more tree etchings, one from my daughter, bought in Florence (bottom) and one from my son that we picked out together one Christmas.  

Various representation of and from New York: the Flatiron Building, the Chrysler Building, the Brooklyn Bridge... 

                                           

and the lovely print of swimming goldfish that I bought on the street outside the Museum of Modern Art from a Chinese artist named Zhyoo (and I have never been able to track down).

The gorgeous watercolor of the Colorado mountains painted by Lynnie's sister Joannie Shapiro and...

   

"Shadow of the child I used to be" by m. ensign johnson.

I am a shadow of the person I used to be. Empty of virtually all my former identities...no longer a daughter, sister, not a wife, not a couple, not a co-worker, not a teacher, and not a mother in the way I was for 20+ years. Emptying me of the marriage, the house, the possessions and feeling hollow is hard but I'm beginning to feel the openness — in being able to start again and figure out just want I want to fill inside. What I want. 

What I want. Not what is expected. Not what I think I should be, need to be, have to be. Just what I want. 

I don't know what I want, but it's nice to begin imagining.

Wish me luck.

Doodling for Direction

For a long, long time, all my doodles were arrows coming and going, up and down, sideways, never getting anywhere.  Pointing, reaching, looking for direction.  I often felt boxed in by those arrows.  Trapped in no direction.  In elementary school, in high school, in college, in every job I've ever had — I was always worried about where I would end up.

Now I'm sixty-three and where have I ended up?

Back at the beginning.

After a working career of 40-plus years (I'm not including working at the dry cleaners from ages 8-15,  or pricing at the pet-supply warehouse, not counting serving in the cafeteria at Northeastern or working in the Registrar's Office at Finch); after a number of apartments, single and shared, a six-year relationship, a 29-year marriage, a townhouse that almost foreclosed, a big house, two lovely children boy-girl twins; now after all that I'm again seeking direction.

Direction is a funny thing because there's no one "right" direction in life.  For any place you want to go, there are oh-so-many ways of getting there.  Will you walk? bike? or drive? Do you go the fastest way or take the most scenic route like my friend Nancy who bobs and weaves this way and that, avoiding the main roads, even highways if she can.  Unlike me, she goes the "back roads" while I — well I just want to get there quick as I can.

Part of the difficulty now is just deciding direction.  My first choice of direction was to leave our town and live in New York — return to the hustle and bustle of of city streets teeming with people, alive with music and plays and magnificent art and always, always, always, the possibility of human connection.  I have had great moments of "positivity resonance" with men, women, and children here in the Big Apple.  People like me/unlike me, close in age/decades away, of similar persuasions/of radically different views.  These connections rarely seemed to happen in the town where we raised our family because we lived in cars to and from the same places.  And we didn't have many couple friends.

Most couples attach to other couples and do things together.  They go to concerts or movies, camp, play cards, take vacations together. I think these couples usually meet through their young children — but that didn't happen for us.  We moved to teach in a small school where most of our colleagues were far younger and single and transitory — each around for a few years and then on to the next career phase in another part of the country or the world.  Our friends are in Iowa and Santiago, Chile or elsewhere but not so many here.

Now it seems that the dream of New York may be a dead end and my direction points me back to North Carolina where I've spent the past 24 years. In a way, and surprisingly, that's beginning to excite me.  There are new things for me to focus on.  We're selling the house and emptying out 35 years of objects and memories.  Every Monday night I'm free-form dancing with about 25 other people for 90 minutes and NO talking!  I'm back to volunteering for the two non-profits  that I support.

Maybe the time has come to procrastinate — to start doodling and see where those arrows take me.
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For the past few months, I've been in a women's writing group that meets weekly at a neighborhood senior center.  I am by far the youngest of the seniors but they're a real bunch of characters, all with interesting thoughts to write.  We spend about 20-30 minutes writing and then we each read aloud and share our piece, followed by comments.  Before we begin, the table is strewn with pages of images torn from magazines (brought  by our writer-facilitator Rosalie) to help prompt one to write if needed.  

This is the image I saw that prompted me to write this post.