Grace Paley said, in a story I read last night, “Every character, real or imagined, deserves the open destiny of life.” The story is her answer to those who expect tidy endings instead of hopeful blindness like what you’re now experiencing. So it goes (and keeps on going). I wish you a fruitful 2026.
"...this one blessed life holds what I can't see." Oh, how true, Eleanor! I have thought of that so many times over the years. And over the years, I have also seen it play out. For instance, I have been married for almost thirty-two years to a man I met in a parking lot one day. I had been convinced I would never marry again, and had good reason for thinking that. Little did I know...May this next year be full of delightful surprises.
I often think when I come in and look at my lovely cats how nice it must be to be one of them and ask myself, what do they ‘think’ of this life here? Do they miss people like I do? I doubt they do think along those lines at all. They just be. How nice must that be.
Eleanor, I get that not wanting to get up feeling, where body and mind are so dislocated they no longer sufficiently coordinate to undertake the seemingly simple task. Reasons differ, reactions match. ...This morning is one of those. Yesterday confirmed my writing group was at an end, after nine years of meeting monthly. Anna Mahoney's September demise made it inevitable, of course. It needed only the coffin lid to fully close. One of us to state the obvious. ...But this discombobulation of mind and body is not loss. Or emptiness. Or sadness. Or even loneliness. Those outgrown with time. It is a pivot. A pirouette. A space between. A time to shore up and own my own life, as it is, so unlike my frenetic nighttime dreamscape or daydreams looking back through sliding doors. When my mind and body rejoin, I am a tad more whole. Might haves are sidelined, I can enjoy the life and days I do have. At least until the next vitiation...but I know it passes - the inertia - as does the busyness, its other extreme. xx
Yes, fabulous last line. And a postcard of the holiday through a wise veil of grief. (Strange balm for me, who is eager to get off this continent). Thank you for letting us in.
"...because this one blessed life holds what I can’t see."
Amen to that!
Grace Paley said, in a story I read last night, “Every character, real or imagined, deserves the open destiny of life.” The story is her answer to those who expect tidy endings instead of hopeful blindness like what you’re now experiencing. So it goes (and keeps on going). I wish you a fruitful 2026.
Hopeful blindness
yes
"...this one blessed life holds what I can't see." Oh, how true, Eleanor! I have thought of that so many times over the years. And over the years, I have also seen it play out. For instance, I have been married for almost thirty-two years to a man I met in a parking lot one day. I had been convinced I would never marry again, and had good reason for thinking that. Little did I know...May this next year be full of delightful surprises.
I think I resonate with what is unsaid ‘between the lines’ also… there can be contentment even here. Best wishes for 2026.
Love you
❤️
Hugs x
Thank you
Yes! that is what Kurt said^^
I often think when I come in and look at my lovely cats how nice it must be to be one of them and ask myself, what do they ‘think’ of this life here? Do they miss people like I do? I doubt they do think along those lines at all. They just be. How nice must that be.
Eleanor, I get that not wanting to get up feeling, where body and mind are so dislocated they no longer sufficiently coordinate to undertake the seemingly simple task. Reasons differ, reactions match. ...This morning is one of those. Yesterday confirmed my writing group was at an end, after nine years of meeting monthly. Anna Mahoney's September demise made it inevitable, of course. It needed only the coffin lid to fully close. One of us to state the obvious. ...But this discombobulation of mind and body is not loss. Or emptiness. Or sadness. Or even loneliness. Those outgrown with time. It is a pivot. A pirouette. A space between. A time to shore up and own my own life, as it is, so unlike my frenetic nighttime dreamscape or daydreams looking back through sliding doors. When my mind and body rejoin, I am a tad more whole. Might haves are sidelined, I can enjoy the life and days I do have. At least until the next vitiation...but I know it passes - the inertia - as does the busyness, its other extreme. xx
Thank you Annie
A lovely, poignant read, Eleanor. Sending you a hug and strong wishes for a fulfilling, loving year ahead xx
🙏🏻
I hope that what you will come to see, before too long, is happiness - something that maybe seemed impossible, come possible, come present and real.
Thank you Kay. V kind.
sounds right
Yes, fabulous last line. And a postcard of the holiday through a wise veil of grief. (Strange balm for me, who is eager to get off this continent). Thank you for letting us in.
And so it goes…
Love you, sister!
❤️
Hugs from us 💛