Talking to Ghosts
My sister died one year ago today. There’s such immense pain in knowing she is no longer here. It stops me in my tracks. Takes my breath away. Still.
Have you fallen in love with them, yet?
“Have you fallen in love with them, yet?” she asked. We all snapped to attention with this query, so far was it from the actual emotion we were experiencing. Um…no. I don’t even like them much right now.
Toppling the Facade of Perfection
Growing up, I loved my dad madly. I thought he was the best human around. He seemed to me to have endless knowledge about every subject. He held the bar for what it meant to live by an uncompromisable moral standard. He was kind and compassionate. And, he was exacting in his expectations of others, particularly his children.
Eleanor Rigby
Waits at the window
Wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for?
The Beatles, “Eleanor Rigby”
After the Rain
It’s Spring Break for the kiddos. And, it’s been raining all week. Rain is hardly ever a welcome meteorologic phenomenon in my world. It’s become even less-so during this time of lockdown. We have so very few options for respite from the walls that surround us, from each other, from the staid repetition of our Groundhog Days. Yet, the melancholy that accompanies the rain is not a phenomenon isolated within this time of pandemic. Not for me at least. This week’s deluge took me back to this time almost a year ago. A time of uncertainty tinged with hope. I wrote then…
Lost and Found
In November, I lost my wedding and engagement rings. I love my rings, but I don’t wear them all the time. Only when I’m going out do I really put on any jewelry. I opened the dryer one day and found my engagement ring lying under the jeans. I didn’t even realize it had been lost. Suddenly I recalled that the night before when I was putting lotion on Sloane, I slipped the rings off and put them in my pocket. Then I forgot all about them. So tumble-dried engagement ring – here. Where’s the wedding ring? I searched the dryer, shaking each of the jeans that inhabited it. Nothing.
Do what you love + other ramblings + addendum to “signs” post
There are many things that we cannot do now. Yet, there are no doubt things that you love to do, that in the course of your normal life what with the kids’ sports and activities schedule, your own social calendar, work commitments, in short, life as you knew it when you were able to leave your home… you had a hard time finding time for. Remember what that thing is, and do it.
Signs that don’t wear signs
Four months ago, I began to fiercely protect the sanctuary of my being space. Yes, it was 9 months ago that I left my job to set out on this path to being. But for the first 2 months, I was spending the summer with my kids. Then, what being looked like to me was being in the company of others…friends who are also colleagues in the field of adult development. We’re an international crew, so this takes a virtual form most of the time. My calendar was filled with zoom video chats. My husband would say I was the busiest non-working person he knew.
Who am I?
My name is Valerie Livesay. Not so long ago, I left my job as full-time faculty teaching in a graduate program in organizational leadership at a university. I left my job…to attempt to be. To sink into not doing (doing being a favorite compulsion of mine). To find myself anew. To shed the many parts of my identity that I had spent a lifetime creating; the parts that had been created on my behalf; the parts that had certainly served me well to that point. And, to see if I could still be loved…by myself…by others.