Category: deep thoughts

  • Only good…

    thoughtful

    I spent time with two different close friends yesterday and both said something similar to me about my life since separating from John.  Both affirmed how much good has happened for me since then.  One even went as far as to say that “only good has come of your splitting.”

    I don’t know if I’d wholly agree that it’s all been “good.”  After all, it’s been emotionally difficult (even traumatizing) to navigate the realities of sharing the custody of our children, and of facing the future without a spouse at my side.

    However…I am the kind of person that tends to rebound quickly from setbacks.  That’s a lesson learned from so many difficult experiences early in my life.  And I was already headed on an exciting professional trajectory, which in some ways is only made smoother now that I don’t have a partner to negotiate with over the details of my choices, or to distract me from my goals.  There’s an absolute headiness that comes from knowing that I’m charting my own course now, and can depend on my own strength to get me there.

    I’m reminded of an experience I had taking a friend out paddling for the first time.  Usually, I take it pretty easy on those who aren’t used to the physical toll of canoeing–it’s hard work!  Often we don’t even make it to the PCH bridge, which is about a mile away from our launch point.  However, this friend (a vibrant divorced professional woman) was a powerhouse in the canoe, despite not having an athletic lifestyle.  When I asked her about it later, she said that she’d learned many years ago to do things herself: when she remodeled her home, landscaped her yard, and so forth.  That being single taught her to tap hidden reserves of strength.  I could see that when she paddled and I could see it in her life.  And now….I’m learning that lesson, too.

  • seeing red

    mon cheriThis morning I’m contemplating an exciting weekend ahead and realizing that today is simply feeling “red”–full of energy and possibility.

    This little poem excerpt from Eugene Fields is a favorite–one that I learned from a biography of Minerva Teichert (a painter who knew how to user her red!):

    Any color, so long as it’s red,
    Is the color that suits me best,
    Though I will allow there is much to be said
    For yellow and green and the rest;
    But the feeble tints which some affect
    In the things they make or buy
    Have never–I say it with all respect–
    Appealed to my critical eye…

  • une orange sur la table

    an orange (for lunch)
    A lot of questions are bubbling up about the future. About what I want for my life and where I see myself headed. On so many fronts, I simply have no idea. Sure, I’ll keep working at my job and on my dissertation. I’ll continue caring for my children. For the time being I’ll stay in my current home. But my days are filled with moments where I realize, I just don’t know what lies ahead. And I’m not sure I even care to think too deeply about it either. Yes, I worry occasionally (which usually prompts me to go check my bank account balances and take a few deep breaths).

    The past few days I’ve been in a whirlwind of busy-ness because of the THATCamp conference I hosted at Chapman. Organizing such an event is an absolute delight–especially sitting at the feet of scholars whose work outshines mine in so many ways. But now I have a ‘to-do’ list that is quite long. I put off many personal tasks until this event was over, knowing that I could only handle ‘so much’ this past week given all that’s been happening in my life.

    However, instead of thinking about the future and my lists and my uber-weird life, I am sitting here looking out the window at this fresh new day and am just being. A friend brought me a tree-ripened orange yesterday and I’m slowly slicing it and savoring each bite. And remembering my favorite poem of orange– the first French poem that I ever attempted to translate–and focusing on the “sweet present of the present” and realizing that sometimes that is simply enough.

    Alicante

    Une orange sur la table
    Ta robe sur le tapis
    Et toi dans mon lit
    Doux présent du présent
    Fraîcheur de la nuit
    Chaleur de ma vie

    ~Jacques Prevert

    The orange in the picture above was one that I picked from the satsuma tree in my garden. A tree that was a birthday gift from my mother a few years ago & now sits in a pot on my porch.

  • a window into this week…

    I moved back to my home last Saturday.  Which is now more my home than it ever has been–the majority of John’s stuff being gone, as well as the half of our property that he took along with him to his new life.  As far as these things go, I’d say that the transition has been a fairly smooth one.  But it is also strange how this all plays out on a day-to-day basis…so I thought I’d list a few of my experiences this week to illustrate how things are going this far…

    • Bought new bedlinens.  I kept our bed (which I love), but it seemed a necessary thing to make a substantive change to make it ‘mine’ rather than ‘ours.’
    • Speaking of ‘ours’…a friend noticed that I still use this word when discussing my home.  It’s a hard habit to break.
    • At the local rock climbing gym, several people hailing me as “John’s wife.”  Explaining to them that I am no longer John’s wife, and trying to ignore the uncomfortable pause at the end of that interaction.  But supposing that they’ll remember to call me Jana the next time we meet.
    • The challenge of my attempts to cook in the kitchen.  I open cupboards to retrieve familiar implements and ingredients, only to find them gone.  Or perhaps moved to a place where I haven’t found them yet.  It will take some time before I know my way around that once-familiar space again.
    • Filling out permission slips for a field trip for the kids.  Realizing that the familiar blanks of those forms are now filled out differently with two parents in two different homes.  Just one more thing to get used to.
    • A note from an LDS friend, inviting me back to Mormon church.  (Sigh).  For the record: I have no desire to be LDS now that we’re divorcing.  If anything, just the opposite.
    • Having primary custody of the children.  Loving that they are nearly always home when I am and enjoying how good it feels to hug them when I walk in the door after work and before we all go to bed at night.
    • Going clothes shopping with a friend who encouraged me to move outside my familiar and somewhat conservative ‘Mom’ style.  Shopping at stores that I haven’t been in since I was a teenager, and letting go of the feeling that I need to ‘dress my age.’
    • Coming across a folder of cards from John, including the one he wrote me on the two-month anniversary of our marriage that says “it’s like living in a dream to be eternally married to you….”.  Remembering just how young and naive we were then and wondering…wondering…but also knowing that the what-ifs simply don’t matter now.
    • Tobykitty’s health stabilizing one more time.  Appreciating that the loss of her is not combined with all of the other losses in our family right now.  Pondering just how many more lives she has to left to spare (fingers crossed).
    • Two different friends noticing that I am constantly apologizing (for the strangest things, like tonite when I apologized for my dinner smelling so good).  A habit I’ve slipped into over the past few years that will take some time undo…
    • Taking down the photos of us still hanging on my walls.  Seeing the tender notes  from John written on the backs of frames.  Wondering what the hell I am supposed to do with this memorabilia now.  Toss? Keep? Burn?
    • Having an in-person conversation with John about one of our children (our first live interaction in quite awhile).  Our shared concern filling the space between us.  Considering how our love for our kids continues to bind us to each other.
    • This big empty living room where I am now typing.  I have the intention to go and buy a couch and some art for the empty walls, but I’d rather just be ‘home’ right now.  Retail therapy leaves me feeling so empty afterward.
    • The indentation of my wedding ring that still lingers on the 4th finger of my left hand.
  • memories…

    memories…

    Among the many things unearthed from John moving out of my home were some old photos. It’s been fun to look through these and remember what life was like for us when we were first experimenting with digital photography.

    As an example, here’s a shot of me giving my first talk at a UCI conference in 2004. For an even more amusing view, you can see my ankle-length skirt (which, back then, was one of my favorites to wear while teaching seminary classes to Mormon teenagers):

    Looking at that picture, I can remember how truly happy I was to be on the brink of beginning graduate school (I’d just barely accepted UCI’s offer for their PhD program). I’d already done several years of coursework at junior college and then took classes as a non-matriculated student for a year to prepare myself for re-entry into full-time academia. It was such a thrill to see that investment coming to fruition.  I can still hardly believe how fortunate I am to have found a career path that brings me so much joy.

  • 2011

    I’ve listened to the video below over and over again. Gaiman’s voice is simply gorgeous and his words ring with so much possibility…

    This year I intend to be wise and kind. I intend to create art and write important words. I intend to love and to like the people that I am with. I intend to dream outrageously and dangerously (and perhaps more importantly, I intend to take the steps necessary to fulfill those dreams).

    This year ahead has a fairly well-defined script: file my dissertation, get divorced, turn 40. But I also suspect that it holds some miraculous surprises. So that next year when I write my wrap-up, it will be more than I ever imagined. (For a walk down memory lane, here’s my 2009 end-of-the-year blog entry.)

    What about you, what do you imagine this next year holds?

  • feeling blue…

    Today in sunny Pasadena, rambling through the Huntington gardens, one can’t help but feel more than a little bit blue.  By blue I don’t mean sad, I mean staring into the blue blue sky and being overwhelmed with its beauty blue (my thoughts in this vein inspired by William Gass–many thanks to David for the recommendation & my very own copy of On Being Blue):

    [flickrslideshow acct_name=”pilgrimgirl” id=”72157625414624608″]

  • This life…

    This life…

    It’s funny that as much as I want to get home now (am bone-deep aching to sleep in my own bed again), this life that I’ve built here in Pasadena will not be an easy one to leave.  The solace of wandering the grounds of the Huntington during the early morning hours, the quiet rhythms of working deep in the recesses of its reading rooms, and the network of friends in its environs will be sorely missed.  And while I can’t believe that I’m saying this now, I’ll even miss those long late night (or early morning) drives up the 5 or 57 as I schlepped back and forth between here and Orange County to spend time with my children (oh, Prius, how I love your sing-along-able stereo!)

    Pasadena is now coffee meetups at Busters, morning light on the sunporch with a purry Tigris-kitty, working dinners at the Novel cafe, deep evening conversations on overstuffed white couches, dissertation sprinting until my fingers ache, pumping iron at the Y, flannel robes & snuggly-soft blankets, your poetry, cheeseburgers stuffed with potato chips and extra pickles, sharing favorite vistas at the Huntington, sweet-smelling care packages by snailmail, collegial conversations, the corinthian column of Christmas, wearing cons & jeans nearly everyday, and the sound of rain on rattly-old glass window panes. But perhaps most memorable is meeting people who don’t know of me as John’s wife or as my children’s mother–who know me only as Jana. And who like me just that way.

    My pilgrim soul has found so much delight in these steps of my journey.  Thank you.

  • xoxo Monday

    This morning was a tough one–I had a wonderful day with the kids yesterday, so returning to my solitary life was hard. I was feeling a bit sorry for myself, so I indulged in some time sitting on the sunporch petting a purry kitty. Letting myself just be where I am right now. (oh my, I’m sounding awfully new-agey)…

    But then I packed up and got myself out the door and on to work. As I was driving, I noticed at nearly every intersection there was a mass of rose bushes. I was simply enjoying this–the textures and colors of the roses as I waited for lights to turn green–when it hit me. Duh. I landed in the City of Roses for this month of transition. And all of a sudden I felt as if the universe had just picked me up and given me a huge bear hug and sloppy wet kiss on the cheek.

    (PS: This story that I wrote quite awhile ago when I was active in the LDS church, explains why roses are so important to me)

  • What not to say…

    Ok, here’s a bit of a pet peeve coming…

    What John told me after he said he was leaving me, was something like this:

    “But you’re still attractive.  I’m sure you can find someone else.”

    Ahem.

    Since then several people have said a similar variant of the same thing to me.  I know it’s well-intentioned.  It’s a kind of hopeful twist on the awfulness of being left behind.  But it still really feels awful to hear (and, quite frankly, the last thing I want in my life right now is “someone else” to be attached to).

    Have any of the rest of you been told this by a spouse or a lover who’s leaving, or by friends who were trying to cheer you up after you’ve been ditched?  If so, how did it make you feel?  And are there any other things that people have said to you in the divorce process that have particularly grated on your nerves?

    UPDATE: One more thought: I wonder if anyone says the “you’re still attractive” line to men? Or is that a gendered thing that’s only said to women? I’d love to hear your thoughts on this…

  • pesky



    morning glory, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    Morning glory was one of the peskier problems in our community garden. It took root all along the fences and around the trunks of trees. I was lucky that there was very little morning glory in my garden plot, but in others it was a constant battle to keep it at bay.

    But despite its proclivity to take over the garden, it’s such a lovely vine. So photo-worthy. Especially against that backdrop of blue blue sky.

  • bath


    Recently I was shopping with some friends and we stopped in a Lush store. I’d never been in this particular store before, I had a lot of fun sniffing the brightly-colored products. The salesgirl gave us an awesome salt scrub on our hands, and I was feeling quite groovy-relaxed. One of my friends asked if now that I was working, if I was indulging in myself more often and buying beauty products like creams and lotions and soaps.

    It’s true that now I do have a bit more financial freedom (despite most of that extra money going for sick cats and grad-school tuition!). But…I think because of having a family for so many years, and having pinched pennies for years and years and years….buying sensuous bath soaps really isn’t on my radar. Right now I’m thinking about retirement planning and my kids’ college tuition and that newish car that I’ve really gotta buy sooner rather than later.

    Isn’t that just totally boring? Probably. But also, nearly every time I’ve actually drawn a bath and put the bubbles in, I find that I just can’t wait to get out, get dried off, and get something else done.

    I am so weird.