You Can't Hurry Love

A couple of years ago I badly, desperately wanted to be in love. After the end of 33 years of marriage, I wanted love again, wanted to know I could love and be loved and raced into an exciting relationship the moment my separation was formalized. I thought I was in love. I was. But the emphasis on badly and desperately clouded my vision and emotions and led me to behave in ways which, in hindsight, I regret. I do not regret any of the experience as it helped me learn a lot about myself and I had many wonderful moments, hours and days.

Since then, I have continued to bump along on the road of love, learning more, loving some, and finding myself in a very different place now - less obsessive, more aware of what is going on with ME and what I want, more aware of signals being sent to me and listening to them.



And so, here I find myself having just brought to the end another promising start with another interesting man because the relationship was not right for me. I saw pink and red flags and paid attention (as opposed to the way I behaved 35 years ago or 3 years go or one year ago.) It's not about whether he is a good man or not (and I believe he is) or if I am a good woman or not (and I believe I am), but whether who we are now, who and how we show up TODAY, is who the other wants to be with. And no fantasy of all the wonderful things we COULD do together or who we wish the other might be can replace the here and now.

Sing it girls.

Acting like a Dog

Warning: this post is going to be a typical Lisa narrative which seems to be disconnected until the end. Stay with me, as the loose ends really do tie together.

Last month in North Carolina, I was charmed by the work of Margaret Couch Cogswell, a multi-media artist whose gentle whimsical work touched my heart when it was most fragile. I bought a piece entitled “Sometimes a Heart Needs Holding”, as my wounded one needed holding badly and I liked the idea of healing myself.



One piece in particular made me laugh, a piece in which Cogswell created her dog’s view of the Penland School where the artist has been completing a residency. Tessy, Margaret’s dog, saw the school as “Pee-land”, and the work included a map of Tessy’s pee spots, places where the hard-working Tessy announced she had been and by peeing on top was announcing her status as top dog.

Fast forward 7 weeks. My heart is long-healed, I am feeling stronger, less vulnerable, a few steps clearer about my needs and wants vis a vis love, dating again, and feeling great about being solo. And then this weekend happened, a time of long walks, planned adventures, serendipitous encounters throughout San Francisco. I found myself reacting to the city much like Tessy, as I visited an artist’s studio with the closest of friends, sat at a bar introduced to me by one man in my past, listened to a broadcast of a performance I had attended with another, admired produce at the farmer’s market as I remembered meals I had enjoyed cooking with yet another, shared a dinner with a new acquaintance at a new venue which will now be permanently linked in my mind to this man. Like Tessy, I was responding to each of these places as if it was scented and marked by a relationship, no matter how long or brief. San Francisco has become my pee-land, rich with experiences and associations. Unlike Tessy, I don’t feel the need to be top dog, but I suppose my version of re-marking these places is my urge to reach out to the men in my past when I re-visit these places, not to restart something which is over but to acknowledge the sweetness now past. Some respond, some don’t. Their loss, in my opinion.

Interestingly, the “Heart” piece I had purchased from Cogswell also arrived this weekend, and I was interested to see that while it still spoke to me, I was no longer that woman with the heart that needed holding that I had been in North Carolina. The heart heals, it re-opens, it discovers new people and places and sniffs them out, marking them and me permanently, like Tessy.

The Men in My Life

Last week I gave a party, a really big party in my really little house, for approximately 65 people. I insisted on cooking everything for the party myself, as cooking and entertaining are among the ways I enjoy giving to others, and this was a group of people to whom I really wanted to give a gift. Among the attendees were artists, friends, colleagues, and customers, and we all ate and drank and talked and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

Nestled among all the other party guests were three important men in my life: my son who acted as sous chef, my husband from whom I am separated, and my lover who had recently ended our romance. I was happy that they were all there together (though I made no effort to introduce said husband and lover to one another!)as they each mean a lot to me in very different ways and I continue to want all three of them in my life, though not in their former roles.

My son is no longer my boy, but rather a man working on making an independent life for himself as an actor. He has chosen a difficult career path, and it is not being easy on him. To see him at ease at this party, handling the multi-tasking kitchen responsibilities with aplomb, made me proud, and yet it was such a different pride from that I felt when he was younger. I am proud to know this man, to have an adult relationship with him, and to watch him as he experiments, succeeds and fails, all on his own terms.

My husband (since I am technically still married, though separated) wanted to be at the party, and it was wonderful to see him handling the situation on his own, particularly after the setbacks he has experienced from his brain injury. He and I shared many years together exploring much of the world of art, and as this was a night all about art and artists, I was glad that in spite of no longer being a couple, we could both enjoy this world which was equally important to us both.

And then, my former lover, from whom I have sufficiently recovered from heartbreak and with whom I am navigating the waters of friendship: why had I invited him and why was he there? While it is true that I had been crazy for him, and was deeply, painfully hurt by his rejection, I also know that I don't fall in love easily, and the love doesn't go away easily, if at all, for me. And he and I, too, enjoy the world of art and artists together, and hope to continue doing that in some way or form going forward. Did we smooch in a corner for a second and forget for a moment that we were no longer doing that kind of thing? Of course we did; the chemistry is still there. But the relationship with this man, as with the others, has also moved along.

I went home with none of these men that night. My former lover left, my son and husband helped clean up, and I went to bed - alone, happy, comfortable with all three relationships.

(Sculptures by Suki Diamond, ceramic artist)

The 50/50 of Love

Lately I have been engaged in several dialogs with friends about love, and find myself thinking about it as one of the ultimate examples of the 50/50 nature of life: equal parts joy and pain, fun and work, sureness and precariousness, love and hate. I could go on forever with metaphors like a double-edged sword, a two-way street, and a black and white cookie, but will stop before this gets too tedious. Instead, I give you the yin and yang of love as portrayed by two men whose work I admire, Eric Clapton (the video) and Neil Gaiman (the quote below).

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”

With the end of a long marriage, the continued blossoming of deep friendships, the beginning and end of an affair, and the exploration of self-love all swirling around my emotional core, I remain wondering about it all, but firmly aligned with Alfred Lord Tennyson,

"Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all."

Love At First Sight

Wham! It happened. Love at first sight. It happened to me this week with a work of art by Jim Nelson. Jim happened to be coming through town and stopped in at the office with many of his pieces to show us in person at Artful Home. I had been extremely attracted to his work since the first time I saw photos of it, had been mildly disappointed with the one piece I had seen in person, so was prepared for this viewing with mixed preconceptions. I must admit that I had played out the scenario in my mind many times of what I would do with a piece by Jim in my home. And then it happened. There, on the opposite end of the room, was the most beautiful stranger, a piece that spoke to so many parts of me, that was everything I had hoped a piece by Jim would be, a piece with which I immediately fell in love. And immediately bought. Gulp!

I've done this before, felt that strong visceral attraction to art, known immediately that it was "the one", and acted. Most of the time, these impetuous purchases have been spot on, as I have remained in love with the work and have lived with it for years. Occasionally, it turns out what I thought was love was merely lust, or a misplaced substitute for something else, and the piece gets placed in my home and then gently moved out.

Of course, this really isn't so different from falling in love with people. When I met my newest best friend, I knew immediately that I was attracted to so many aspects of her very being; now this new friendship has blossomed and grown in ways I never could have imagined. While I knew I was looking to engage with new people, I never went to that particular party where we met looking for a new best friend. It just happened.

Romantic love is not so different, though ever so much more complicated. There, I'm afraid, lust has led me far too often into thinking I'm in love. And just as with the most recent art purchase, my impetuous nature acts on love/lust quickly. But unlike art which you have to purchase and live with (and then can remove without undue emotional pain), I'm trying to treat romance more like a lease with an option to buy. I do fall in love, head over heels infatuation, and I love the feeling. I also know that the real thing is much deeper and harder and ultimately even more joyful than that first strike by Cupid's arrow.

All great things must begin somewhere

3 years ago I was about to start a business. It had a concept, it had a reason to be, it even had a name (50/50). The concept was clothing (no duh if you know me) for mature women (ie probably over 40, or 50) who may have lost their waistlines but not their sense of style. The idea was to develop a core group of clothes + artistic accents, with the notion that mature women "need" little, but still get a kick out of great style, out of making a statement in the way they dress, out of expressing their sexuality, their individuality, their confidence in being themselves. The rest of the concept had to do with the fact that from the get-go, the business would be equally focused on promoting self-esteem in girls, with a percentage of the profits going to fund programs enabling girls to develop into their fullest potential. It was a great concept; I knew what it would look like and when I told my business plan to others, it was greeted with tremendous support for both the concept and for me - me! - launching it. I had partners ready to work with me and funders ready to fund. But two things happened: 1) I realized I was scared to take on all that responsibility and 2) my husband of 30 years suffered a traumatic brain injury the week I began serious business meetings, an injury which permanently altered him, affected my impending plans to leave the marriage and explore a new business, and totally altered my sense of what was coming next. So I dumped my business plans and dealt with life as it now presented itself.

Fast forward 3 years, and now I am running a business, albeit not one I began, but one which feeds my soul and allows me to interact with hundreds of artists and art-loving people. And I am separated from my husband and dealing - whoa Nelly! - with the whole new world of being single and knowing myself and dating and sex and all that stuff. And I still care a lot about clothing for women my age and get lots requests for advice about fashion and home decor as well as get lots of comments about my style. Many people suggest that my life these days would be a good movie. I say that that movie would have to be called "It's Complicated Up in the Air". I also say that reality is stranger than fiction, and thus the beginning of this blog.

My intention is to explore and share this road I'm traveling, the road of style and art and love and self discovery. I know this road is 50/50: half art/half feeling, half style/half deep exploration of the way girls and women experience love. I hope it's interesting and of value, and welcome your comments.
Lisa