Gradually taking shape

It has been of immense help to simply slow down and loosen up my expectations. Accepting that I can’t solve everything today has put a new perspective on things. I still don’t know where I’ll be working in December, but I know I’ll have a job. Nor can I today picture exactly how my next seminar in two weeks will be, but I’m working on it now.

Another source of help has been to take joy in the slightest things, and to feel the happiness they stir within me. Nor should the power of support through friends, family and co-workers be underestimated. It does wonders to reach out, talk, listen, ask questions, or just comiserate.

And it’s especially good to clear things up. A colleague and I both had interviews for the same job. At first, we wanted to stay put. Then we both realized we would like to do the new job. That’s when an air of competition snuck in. That did not feel good. She called me for something else, but I addressed the feeling and we had a good, honest talk about it. Both of us had reflected and both come to the decision that we’d like to work at either place and will leave it up to the universe. That works for me. It was important to discuss it.

It’s another dark, grey day — with a few drops of rain now and then, but I’m floating somewhere above it. Optimistic that all will work out one way or another.

Work, music, school, projects, children — it’s all a learning process and I’m right there in the middle. That may not appear to have a specific shape. It may not seem any different than it was last week, when I was feeling overwhelmed. The difference is small but significant: My trust has returned. I have faith in the universal plan. That helped me let go and not even bother to try to control everything or figure it all out. What a relief!

Cat worries

If it’s not the kids I worry about, then it’s the cats. I recently found out that the great ramp I built for the cats is not allowed. I had been told that the tenants before me also had a ramp, so I asked the downstairs neighbors if they’d mind, and then built it. Recently a different neighbor stopped by and told me that those tenants had had to dismantle their ramp.

So I’ve been worried. See, one cat is a couch potato who gets his fresh air by stepping out onto the balcony and taking a few deep breaths before he walks back into the living room, but the other one loves to be outdoors.

A few days ago, I sent a wish to the universe: I need to find him a house. He needs more freedom. Yes, my heart is heavy, but I need to consider his best interest. He is affectionate, but with everyone — not at all shy, like his brother who hides under the couch or bed when the doorbell rings. So I wouldn’t worry about him adjusting to other people, though I would miss him.

This afternoon an old friend called. I know her from when I lived in the city. She originally grew up in this area is and here visiting her mother. On the spur of the moment, I invited her over. She had a few errands to run, but said she’d get the next train and be here in about an hour.

I decided to use the time to practice guitar, and ended up improving some new songs and writing the music for some lyrics I had lying around. She took a few hours to get here, as her errands took longer, so it worked out perfectly.

I ran out and got some fresh bread, tomatoes, a cucumber and radishes. Cheese and wine were already in the fridge. I figured I’d make us a light supper, yet only got the stuff ready. I figured I’d wait and see how hungry she was. She arrived and invited me to go out to eat at the Indian place around the corner. She’d smelled the curry on her way here from the train station.

I love Indian food, so she didn’t have to ask twice. After showing her the apartment — including the cat ramp, I put the stuff in the fridge and off we went. She asked me about my cats, and then mentioned that she’d decided that she wants to get a cat to keep her mother company. Her mother loves animals — cats especially — and is lonely. My friend had vowed to get her mother a cat before she leaves to go back to the city.

Her mother lives in a big house, with a big shed out back, has a nice yard and woods nearby. It would be perfect! My friend’s brother also lives in the house, and he said he doesn’t want a kitten, because it would far outlive their mother. My cat is 5 years old.

Yes, the tears came to my eyes as I seriously contemplated the possibility, but it seems like it was meant to be. She will discuss it with her siblings, and if we get a green light, I can bring him there on Sunday, and stay there a few nights, to give him time to get used to the place.

Though I feel sad and would miss him, I think he would be much happier in a house in the country. And since the days of the ramp are limited, it may be a wise choice. And the nice thing about giving it to a friend is that I could visit him — and her mother — regularly!

Just one step

There’s a tune I heard back in the early 80’s at the Banana Stand on Bleecker Street. Originally, I heard it under the little bridge in Central Park — in front of the Zoo. There was a trio that used to sing there: Longtoe, Singer & Flowers. Flowers had the most incredible smile, that I remember.

Anyway, they played down on Bleecker Street, so I went to listen just about every time they played. And there was this wonderful song they sang that I have never forgotten: “A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step. One foot in front of the other. Just one step. Just one step will set you free.” Those are the lyrical fragments that stayed with me, and of course the tune.

Flowers used to tell the story. If I remember correctly, she had been travelling, had no more money, and didn’t know how she was going to get home. Then the wisdom occurred to her: You start with just one step. I don’t know if she wrote the song to inspire herself and then took a step, or if she made her journey and then wrote the song with her newfound insight. I suppose it doesn’t really matter.

It’s wonderful how a “little” song can change someone’s life. They never made it big (as far as I know), but on a small scale I’m sure they inspired quite a few people. There was usually a good crowd. That’s one of the special memories from back then.