Monday, March 17, 2014

A good forgettery

By Sunday morning all was well again, and that is how it is I suppose: All is well some days, not so much other days, but if we manage to hang on and not do anything too destructive to ourselves or the other person, we just might get through to the other side. I remember reading in a women's magazine a story about the secrets of lasting marriages. In it, they had asked long-married couples for their prescription for success. There were a lot of nuggets of wisdom, but the only one I remember was from a woman in her eighties, married 48 years. She said, "You have to have a short memory. You have to be very good at forgetting because you're not going to work everything through, you're not going to solve everything, and sometimes you just have to forget about it and move on." Words to that effect. It rang so true to me. My mother and aunts call this having "a good forgettery," something they all practiced to get past sibling squabbles their entire lives. I don't really know what was up on Friday and Saturday, and I've decided it no longer matters.

My husband took me to the annual orchid show at the New York Botanical Gardens yesterday, because he knows I love orchids, and he also finds them to be the most sensual flower ever. We took lots and lots of pictures as we walked the labyrinthine paths and that was when I exhaled and relaxed into our okayness once more. It was a good, simple day with my love, whose light had fully returned, no doubt in partial response to the dissipation of my own gloom and doom. We are so at the mercy of random electrical storms on these plains.

Here are some of the sights and the people we found wandering through that hothouse of extravagant natural and manicured beauty that was the orchid show.













13 comments:

  1. I am glad all is well again. These storms come and go, just as they do in the workplace and in friendships! I remember going to that orchid show years ago. Love the photos, especially the guy in that peculiar plaid/stripe combo!

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    1. Ah, Steve, you were right, of course. And don't you just love that plaid/stripe guy's style? I took that one for you, actually, so it's cool you zeroed right in on it!

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  2. The little boy sitting on his heels caught my heart of course. I can see Owen doing that. "I am so bored with all of these flowers! Can't we go home yet?" His tiny cars just parked.
    Do you suppose that we will ever reach the point where we truly can just surf the waves of the storms and not decide we are drowning, never to be rescued?
    I'm pretty sure that some of will never quite learn but perhaps we can at least, yes, relax back into the okayness sooner.
    You are as beautiful as any orchid. I hope you know that.

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    1. I find that "forgetting and moving forward in love" work best for my boyfriend and I. I'm happy to hear that all is well again.

      I love orchids, thanks for sharing your beautiful photos and memories!

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    2. Dear Mary, that little boy did indeed remind me of Owen! I took the one of the guy in the plaid/striped jacket for Steve and and took this photo for you! How great that you both mentioned the photos I had you in mind for when I was taking them! As for surfing the waves, i have a hope yet that I will get better at it and learn to stay above the water!

      Mis Rachel, thanks for being here! I hope you're doing well.

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  3. I love what you wrote about the electrical storms. And orchids are the most sensual of flowers. I think this time of year is a hard one. We can feel spring but most of us can't have it yet. We're all impatient.

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    1. Vesuvius, you're on to something; spring used to be my least favorite season, all that uncovering from the winter, so revealing of vulnerabilities. But I am remembering that last year, spring was wondrous, so this year, i am a little more hopeful.

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  4. Having a good forgettery has been my key to successful meditation. If I haven't put things behind me by the time I sit, I make forgetting the focus of my meditation and make a commitment to myself to consciously let it go.

    I'm glad to hear the birds are once again singing for you and your lover.

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    1. Nancy, letting go is really the essence of serenity, isn't it? It's about releasing the illusion of having any control at all and just be present for what is. I love when you come around.

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  5. So much beauty -- your words, the photos -- him -- you.

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    1. Ah, Elizabeth, today the magic worked. I adore you.

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  6. I don't know if my last comment went through. I had read through your entry and at the bottom was a link to your entry about Henry Granju. What an odd, strange, connected world we are in because it is through blogging that I became "real life" friends with Henry's family. I vacation with Henry's aunt betsy and her family, and our now mutual friends, each summer and they are all big parts of my life now. All because of our Maggie May linking to blog's about Henry. And now here you are too - another having followed the story. I just wanted to share that. I love this community.

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    1. SJ, that Maggie May is a connector. I found Mary Moon through her, and also Katie Granju. She's closed her blog lately, so I no longer keep up with her, but what happened to her beautiful boy Henry broke my heart. My own son is three days older than Henry, so it felt even more immediate. There but for the grace of God. I am glad you are part of this community. I love it too.

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