Becoming aware is hard.

I believe that there is no amorphous majority, happy and blissfully unaware. I believe that is the propaganda that keeps the consumer economy rolling. If we are all told that everyone else is happy, we will keep buying stuff to make us happy too. Women are kept in a state of perpetual dissatisfaction with themselves for not being beautiful enough to be loved. The same applies to men and the general population who are repeatedly reminded that they are deficient, their work has no value, their beliefs don't count and democracy is a sham. So they turn off, don't try, don't vote, and don't think. Their only release comes through escapism - addiction, sports, entertainment and shopping. If everyone was feeling contented and satisfied with life, there would be no need to consume more, to compete so aggressively or, ultimately to go to war. Not good for our present social and economic order - evangelical capitalism.

Humans are like leaky vessels, the more we pour in, the more is needed. There is no end to the tragedy of wanting more because the void in our souls can never be filled. Not until we become mindful, can we get off the treadmill. That takes time (we do not have enough) and a conscious effort (too difficult in so little time). We are given choices, but we aren't always aware enough to understand what we need to do. It's so frustrating. It's so much simpler to just buy a new TV.

If some of us are different, it's only because we awakened to notice what is happening and we give voice to our fears. Once blessed/cursed with open eyes, it is impossible to close them again. Alas?!

We are all strangers at the table.

Dearest Friend,

I haven't commented on your search for love previously, because I couldn't get past the terror it strikes in my stomach. I didn't want to rain on your parade with negativity. But with your last letter, you force my hand and I can't avoid commenting.

Your hopes and expectations are so open and out there, that I am afraid for you because at seventy we are more vulnerable than ever before. I also feel jealousy and admiration for your courage to try again. I don't trust my own judgment enough to dare take on another relationship. I asked myself after my last failure, why I kept repeating the same pattern and expecting a different outcome? Surely I had enough evidence that I could recognize a disaster in the making. But no, I would sail into the new relationship because this time it would be different.

I want you to be happy. I wish for your "this time" to be the right man, the right relationship, the true love, the right time. I do keep my fingers crossed for you, knowing full well, that if it works, I will lose you. You will become one of those women with partners whose coupleness underline my singleness. As for you always being the stranger at the table, I've learned that we all are strangers. From the moment of our birth, we can't go home again. The mother- womb is gone forever, even as we surround ourselves with family, friends, activities et al to hide the loss of mother love, safety and security from ourselves.

I have always felt like the stranger at the table. Even at my own table. That's how I became an alcoholic. I wanted to belong or be blotto. Story after story in AA that begins with "I always felt like I never belonged..." and I came to understand that what I thought was my unique loneliness was really the human condition. We build communities and relationships to bridge that condition. Mostly we don't succeed escaping our solitary selves. Sometimes we do succeed.

So I wish with all my heart, that you succeed dear friend.

Love,

Claire

Thank you Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving has come and gone and my tummy is going to have to make an adjustment back to sensible eating for WW points. I began the shift back from gluttony today with an all vegetarian supper. I made a delightful ratatouille in my slow cooker using every vegetable and legume I had in the house, seasoned it with ground ginger, parsley, soy sauce and lots of garlic, and served it with mashed potatoes. This would have been the ideal return to my senses had I not eaten two helpings and had a bowl of rum and raisin ice cream for dessert. Oh it's going to be an uphill struggle returning to the program.

Kathleen returned from a weekend at her brother's in Toronto, happy but tired. She had been to the AGO and really enjoyed the three exhibitions she saw. It's really fun to have someone to talk art with again. I have missed being with someone so knowledgeable and excited. It's amazing how many works of art I have filed away in my memory. She'll mention a painting like Rueben's Slaughter of the Innocents and I can draw the visual out of my memory. My Art History education was excellent and Kathleen's Mount Allison education has given her a very good foundation. She landed in the right boarding house by sheer serendipity.

I have had a wonderful time celebrating Thanksgiving with my friends. As soon as people realized I would be alone, I received invitations to two dinners. Saturday evening I attended a French style meal that began at 6:30 with the soup course, slowly wended its way through a fish course, meat and vegetables course, salad course into a dessert course which concluded with a cheese, liqueurs and coffee course at midnight. Throughout there was intelligent, witty conversation and a variety of wines (I had Perrier). I haven't experienced such a cosmopolitan evening in years. It was reminiscent of long lingering meals I've enjoyed hosting and attending in my Montreal days.

Sunday evening found me at other friends where I enjoyed a family style traditional Thanksgiving dinner. It too was delicious and very warm with family banter and pets and people who were very comfortable in each others' company and very welcoming to an outsider. I truly felt blessed by this abundance of affection and friendship and although I missed Maya, it was only a fleeting loneliness.

This has made me rethink my sense of loss with her off leading her own life. I never expected her life to have been so cut off from me. We had always been so close, I imagined she would continue wanting to share with me. In truth, she communicates very little. We speak on the phone maybe once or occasionally twice a week. She is remarkably involved with her London life and when we speak there isn't much to say. Our principle communication tool is the Facebook update, where we can at least see superficially what we each are up to. I understand that Glenn is her confidant now, but I can't remember this kind of withdrawal ever happening with previous boyfriends. I was still part of her life then. Perhaps Glenn's distance from his parents has influenced her. I feel I've been shunted to a siding, not very useful but available in case of an emergency.

I've started behaving defensively which is not good. I make my plans and arrangements as if Maya is not in my life. That way, I reason, I won't be hurt when she overlooks me. I worry about what I should say to her so she won't think I'm "guilting" her. I'm treading on eggs and it's making me angry. I suppress the anger which builds up more defensiveness. When she does call, I'm hoping it will be fun, but waiting for the shoe to drop - what does she want from me? I have to deal with this, because it will become very unhealthy if I let it slide.

The first step is to recognize that I have a life and it's a pretty interesting one. She can choose to be interested but doesn't have to.

The second is to appreciate the friends in my life who care for me and enjoy having me around. I have to make more effort to include them.

The third is to realize that these things are true with or without Maya. I'm more than just Maya's Mom. She doesn't define me and I don't define her. She is moving on without me and so should I. When I say to her " you must do what is best for you" I should take that to heart and apply those words to my life as well. I have to decide that the first person I need to care for is me. Hard to do after a lifetime of caring for others.

These are baby steps to recovery from chronic momism, but they seem huge. I must apply them one day at a time.

Moving right along...

So great to start pottery again. I warmed up making a platter and small leaf plates instead of launching right into a sculpture. I need some time to get my hands used to working the clay. Since I'm having more arthritis in my hands, they require a little coaxing. Making some utilitarian items seems like a useful way to begin. Its been a few months since my last sculpture and my hands have declined somewhat since then. Frigging aging, it's not all parties and lunches.

I'm also on the Market Hall restoration campaign team. I found myself saying yes when I was invited to join the cabinet and I'm not sorry. We are a group a serious arts and culture go-getters in Peterborough and it's exciting to work together to complete such an important and historic project. Market Hall is a wonderful old building in the heart of this city dating back to the early 19th century. It was the brokerage house, commodities exchange and farmers market of its day. CP Rail had offices there and it was the hub of transport and the mercantile trade. It boasts a clock tower and some magnificent carved roof beams. The ground floor is shops and restaurants and the lofted second floor has been a splendidly versatile theatre space since the seventies. It was saved from the wrecking ball by some heritage-conscious citizens when private developers were building a shopping mall where the opera house of the same vintage was torn down. They were moving in on Market Hall when enough citizens said ENOUGH and brought the vandalism to a halt.

The city bought it and turned it over to an arts cooperative to create a gallery and when that failed, a theatre. Market Hall is a perfect venue for smaller, chamber orchestras, jazz and folk music, dance and experimental theatre groups. It was also falling apart, was not easily accessible for the elderly or disabled, improperly insulated etc. Last year Market Hall qualified for the incentive funding both levels of government were offering to stimulate the economy and the reconstruction began. Architects were hired, focus groups met, grants were received and we are well on our way to completion of a brand new state of the arts theatre. Now we need to raise the final three million to match the city's grant. I have complete confidence that we will do it. Peterborough is a really generous town and our campaign director is awesome. It's a positive and forward-looking project that people care about.

So between pottery/sculpture classes, physiotherapy and Market Hall I should be keeping out of trouble for a while.