There are days I'm calm about it, knowing Soul Portrait is in the hands of capable professionals; and there are days I'm higher than a kite, edgy to see it in its final form, and filling my life with activity so I don't obsess about it. Soon, I will have the entire proof on my computer (unfortunately, they don't send out hold-in-your-hands galley proofs -- I'll have to copy it on my printer, which is hardly the same) and will have to carefully read it for the hundredth time to check for errors and typo's. I've been advised by a friend --one who has gone through this a couple times -- to ask someone who has never set eyes on Soul Portrait to read it from beginning to end for spelling errors. The designer at Dog Ear thinks it will be about 116 pages, so it's hardly a daunting task. It's a great suggestion, and I have just the person.
In the meantime, I'm thinking about my goals for this next year. I just turned 64, which means I've entered my 65th year of life, and I want it to be a meaningful one. By the way, I've turned a corner about aging: I'm no longer lamenting the speed with which I arrived here; instead I'm just grateful I got this far.
So, what do I want this year to be about, aside from Soul Portrait's debut? For several years, a close friend and I have been following a concept from Mira Kirshenbaum's book, Gift of a Year. The point is to live life fully and with awareness, not having to look back and wonder, "Where did the time go?" Each year of life is a gift, so we savor it and respect the time given to us. We choose a special focus for the year and dedicate ourselves to it, knowing whatever we do will add to our lives in some way. Each 'gift of a year' has personal growth and spiritual components to it; sometimes we choose the same one and other times we take slightly different paths; but always, we check in with each other on a regular basis throughout the year to see how we're doing and what we're learning about ourselves.
This year, there are two things I want to focus on: (1) clearing my to-finish list, thereby adding both physical and spiritual energy to my life, and (2) writing letters (the hand-written, put-on-a-stamp, head-for-the post-office kind), thereby reaching out to others in a more personal way. My first letter towards this end was to my former mother-in-law (my sons' grandmother), wishing her a happy birthday, recounting memories, and thanking her for the role she played in my life. She is living her 90th year and I want her to know, even though I'm no longer married to her son, that she impacted my life in a huge way. I admit, there were times I was extremely frustrated with her; but it's amazing (now that I'm a mother-in-law) how much I value her forgiveness of the past and the love she has expressed over the years.
I give credit for my letter-writing campaign to another dear friend, who shared a book entitled, Always First Class, by Oregonian, Lois Barry. After going through Barry's enchanting world of letter-writing, I knew I had to get back to that time when things went at a slower pace and were more personal. Call it an aging thing if you wish (and I won't take offense), but the bottom line is, many of us are giving away our lives to electronic devices. I fear for the destiny of the hand-written letter and civility in general (I recently had a meeting with a county official who carried on a conversation with me while he checked for in-coming e-mails). At the same time, I'm also heartened at what seems to be renewed interest in the art of writing a letter (several books on the topic are available); some of us are reacting to e-mails written in haste, with no greeting, discernible body, or signature. More often than not, e-mails begin much like a horse charging out of the starting gate at the Kentucky Derby; they are written quickly and to get a point across.
There are many people in my life with whom I haven't connected in a very long time. Christmas and birthday cards are sent with little notes, but I rarely sit down and spend quality time with the recipient of my good wishes. E-mails aren't usually that personal, though with some thought and effort they can be. I've received some powerful e-mails that meant so much to me I had to print them out and tuck them away for safe-keeping. Still, there is something wonderful about opening up a stamped envelope and finding inside a personal letter, filled with news about the sender, written in a familiar hand, and signed with love. Letter-writing is a way I can make time for those special people in my life -- quality time, slowed-down time, just with them.
As for the to-finish list, authors Joe Dominguez and Vicki Robin (Your Money or Your Life) suggest unfinished business is just as energy-sapping as is all the crap we save that collects and procreates (like paper) around us. It's all clutter. I have so many unfinished projects and books, that I feel like I'm in Unfinished Project Purgatory. There are 2 unfinished needlepoint and 6 knitting projects that are cluttering up my sanctum; and there are 10 partially-read books on my shelves. It would take a psychologist to analyze my problem; still, the outcome is a confused, mis-directed, brain. Even though I have written out my list of projects (and that helps), I keep re-registering them with my already overloaded brain cells. I want to get those things off my list before I feel even more overwhelmed; but I also want to enjoy the process while I'm doing it, deliberately and with care. And then, I will try to figure out why I jump from project to project and book to book. I will work at slowing down -- and really, maybe that's my gift of a year....slowing down and savoring life, projects, and people.
The planning month is over and my gift of this next year has begun. The big gift is knowing I'm alive, in good health, and surrounded by wonderful people. Freeing up my psychic and physical energy by finishing projects and reaching out to others by writing letters will require my keeping up with the practices of gratitude and meditation. While God/Spirit has given me a life filled with family and friends, these two practices are the gifts I give to myself.
