Today, my sister, Lena, was born. Happy Birthday, Sorella. I say a silent thank you each day that you and I get to share this life.
Ones die and others get pregnant. New beings, scratch their way out of their shells.
Philip Seymour Hoffman, Actor, Dies at 46
Why was he unhappy? Wasn’t his life and his work fulfilling enough to at least keep him alive? My perception of happiness is as shifty as my moods, and the knowing that they are changing still lead me into suffering.
I saw the movie “Her” last night. There were lines from the movie that emerged in my mind, even though they seemed insignificant at the moment.
“I just want some joy in my life,” Amy’s character said in the movie. The simple phrase that touched me. I want that too.
Time is the greatest organizer, said Mark Twain. No he didn’t, I am thinking about that today, but H.L. Mencken said, “Time is the great equalizer in the field of morals.” Either way, time is moving underneath my feet and I feel the momentum of it pushing me into unknown places.
The difficult things in my life have led me down a strange path. The stranger it is, the more conscious I become of myself. The more conscious, the closer that I become to feeling crazy. Sometimes I don’t recognize myself. I look for myself in old photos. Who am I? Who was I there? What was I feeling? And if I still don’t know myself, how can I know another human being.
I remember the shallow thoughts of my younger days. I also remember my depth when I was small. Some decisions were hard but, they were worthwhile. Leaving Wall St. was what I needed, even though Mama wailed into the phone, when I announced the news. I waited until the day I was going to quit to tell Mama and Papa, otherwise I risked being persuaded out of my whimsical impulse.
“Olga, the economy is not doing well. Do you think it’s a good idea to start your own business now?” Bulent, one of my senior bosses said with his Turkish accent to me in our final meeting, playing the role of an immigrant, who made it in this land of riches. He towered over most men who came near him. He was a handsome fellow. I was twenty-two and he was thirty-eight, his hair already grey and two kids in New Jersey. I was scared to become him and I was scared not to become him.
I can let someone down just by being me. Should I grow up already or will I stay within my childish world of magical thinking. It’s time to grow up and swallow my pride and say, I am sorry. I am sorry, please God grant me forgiveness. You are the ultimate forgiver and encompass the power to restore forgiveness onto me from all beings. We are one, and I forgive myself with my breath that keeps me in this life, even when it feels unbearable.
Sometimes, I am jealous of the “normal people.” The ones I think have it figured out. They live in nice houses, with nice furniture and have pasta for dinner with no vegetables and they don’t complain about it. But not me.
Papa got mad at me one time because I served soup before herring, I got angry in return. Meanwhile if I go to his house and the eggs are not organic, I sigh. That’s not happiness.
Happiness is letting joy in, or having capacity to let joy in, but it’s also feeling ok when there is no joy, when I feel sad and angry. When I look in the mirror and frighten myself.
Last night I looked in the mirror and saw myself.