Distance

Parents rarely have the opportunity to see their children in the same way that the rest of the world does. We all know that our kids save their rawest, neediest behavior for us. It’s a compliment, really – that they feel safe enough to be able to disintegrate, knowing that we won’t love them less even when they are a complete mess. (This applies to 20-year-olds as much as 2-year-olds.) So we are sometimes surprised when outsiders recognize our offspring as the fascinating, mature, wonderful people they really are.

Those of us whose kids indulge in sports or performing arts sit back and wonder who that interesting, brave, strong young person is out there on the field or up there on the stage. That young man looks so confident and pre-possessed. Could he be my son? That young woman seems so self-assured and compelling. She’s related to me... imagine that! Seeing them without myopia is the only way to know who they are.

Important details often come into focus with proximity. But sometimes distance is the most important lens there is.

Read, Read, Read

Already I'm cheating by posting a picture that I didn't take. But at least the photo was my idea.

I told my daughter that she should memorialize her last spring in college by taking a picture of the books she had to buy for this semester.

I miss reading sometimes, but a sight like this is enough to bring me back to reality. And the reality of this particular evening is that I'm trying to finish Obama's book and figure out who gets my vote in the morning :)

End of an Era

From the trimmed down elementary-school version of Seussical to this year's swan song during my son's senior year in high school, I've been swimming in a wonderful Broadway musical stream. I will miss the rush I get from these crazy shows, and my life will be poorer without all of these crazy teenagers in it.

Today has been spent sifting through various scores, trying to help the director decide what might be vocally castable, wondering anew at the mess that is these old Tams Witmark scores, and running from the fact that this is probably the end of an era. I get plenty of chances to produce shows at work, but it's not the same. The stakes are higher, and the satisfaction is different.

I could continue to volunteer hundreds of hours at a time once my kids are out of school, but I know I won't. I guess I don't miss it that much. But it's my prerogative to be nostalgic, and to enjoy this final run around the sun.

Eigenzeit

Einstein spoke of Eigenzeit, and even though I don't pretend to understand physics, the concept of "proper time" or "own time" has lately been my siren call. Einstein showed that there is no fixed or absolute time independent of the system to which it refers. Eigenzeit is time measured internally and locally. Time as it should be experienced, with decisions based on instincts, values and relationships rather than on calendars, budgets and lists

This is my midlife crisis blog - part of an attempt to reclaim (or perhaps claim?) my own proper time. I'm not a martyr, even though I'm descended from a long line of them. But Iived my first few decades for my parents, the next couple for my kids, and now I'm in danger of drowning the remaining time in my work.

I've been a fitful journal keeper - knowing how healthy and helpful personal writing can be, but not being able to commit. There is something embarrassingly indulgent about it, and after all, who has time for such indulgences? :) However, a personal blog is both indulgent and vain, so I'm not sure why I'm here.

My internal obsessive list-maker knows why.

1) I have frighteningly little access to my memories. I believe they must be in there. Or perhaps I just have to believe it to stay sane. But they won't be dredged up. The act of writing freezes moments in time, and I'm somehow desperate to do that. And as Samuel Johnson said, "The true art of memory is the art of attention." Perhaps writing will force me to pay attention. Mindfulness is the most elusive goal of my life.

2) I am inspired by friends and colleagues who blog their photos. My visual observational skills are pitiful, yet I am intrigued by these images. I'm related (by blood, no less) to a professional photographer, so perhaps there's hope. I intend to spend a few moments each day actually looking around me. And capturing what I see whenever I can. Lower your expectations, for this is a purely selfish exercise.

3) Even though Eigenzeit has been a footnote in my life so far, one way to bring it to the fore is to consciously reclaim my own time in small increments. Thinking, and subsequently writing, about something other than work has to be a step in the right direction.

Today's photo is of a scroll on my wall. Emblematic of the inauguration of this blog. I brought it home from Shanghai last fall. At the time I bought it, I chose it from among others based on the meaning of the Chinese characters in it. Now I can't remember what it says, only that it spoke to me at the time.