Eleemosynary

Wynona Ryder in Beetlejuice

eleemosynary

[el-uh-mos-uh-ner-ee], adjective:

1. Of or for charity; charitable; as, “an eleemosynary institution.”

2. Given in charity; having the nature of alms; as, “eleemosynary assistance.”

3. Supported by or dependent on charity; as, “the eleemosynary poor.

I was prompted a bit to think of a favorite word. This one finally came to mind. I performed this monologue in college. My mother performed Artie, the mother, in a full production.was in the play.  Grandmothers. Mothers. Daughters. So much resonance in my heart for this relationship...especially my mother's mother, my mother and me--all the different fire signs of the zodiac: Grandma was an Aries, Cardinal Sign. Mom is a Sagittarius, Mutable Sign. I am a Leo, Fixed Sign. We dwell in warmth. And burning. And smoke. And heart. Because what is love, any kind of love, but a heart set on fire?

ELEEMOSYNARY, by Lee Blessing

This play examines the delicate relationship of three women: a grandmother, Dorothea, who has sought to exert her independence through strong willed eccentric behavior, Artie, her daughter, who has run from her overpowering mother, and Echo, Artie’s daughter, who is incredibly smart and equally sensitive. After Dorothea (who has raised Echo into her teens) suffers a stroke, Echo is forced to reestablish contact with her mother through extended phone conversations, during which real issues are skirted and the talk is mostly about the precocious Echo’s unparalleled success in a national spelling bee. In the end, Artie and Echo come to accept their mutual need and summon the courage to build a life together, despite the terror this holds after so many years of estrangement.

Echo: Uncle Bill hardly remembers you, you know that? I asked him what you were like as a little girl, and he couldn’t even say. He remembers Grandma even less. He didn’t have one interesting thing to say about her – about Grandma. They don’t have a single picture or her, either. Not even in their minds. To them, she’s just a woman who lived a big, embarrassing life. They all think they’ve saved me just in time. Not just from Grandma–from you, too. (A beat.)
So I started wondering if they weren’t right. Maybe the smartest thing would be to forget you completely. And Grandma. After all, what did I ever get from the two of you, except a good education? You especially – what were you ever to me, except a voice on the phone now and then? And I looked around the new room where I was staying, and it was real nice and... blank, the way a thing is before you put any time into it. I thought, I could live a whole new life here. I could invent a whole new me. I could be Barbara if I wanted to, not Echo. I could fit in. I don’t mean I’d become like Whitney and Beth. I’m not that crazy. But I could become like Robinson Crusoe, and adapt myself to a strange and harsh environment. I could live in a kind of desert. I could even flourish. Like you have. I could live without the one thing I wanted. But I kept hearing your voice. That voice on the other end of the phone, hiding behind spelling words, making excuses – or so energetic sometimes, so... wishing. I don’t even remember what you said, just the sound of it. Just a sound that said, “I love you, and I failed you.” I hate that sound. And I will never settle for it, because no one failed me. No one ever failed me. Not Grandma and not you. I am a prize among women. I’m your daughter. That’s what I choose to be. Someone who loves you. Someone who can make you love me. Nearly all the time. I’m going to stay with you. I’m going to prepare you for me. I’m going to cultivate you. I’m going to tend you.

Awake

One of his students asked Buddha, "Are you the messiah?" "No", answered Buddha. "Then are you a healer?" "No", Buddha replied. "Then are you a teacher?" the student persisted. "No, I am not a teacher." "Then what are you?" asked the student, exasperated. "I am awake", Buddha replied.

To Remember

Advice to Myself

by Louise Erdrich

Leave the dishes. Let the celery rot in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator
and an earthen scum harden on the kitchen floor.
Leave the black crumbs in the bottom of the toaster.
Throw the cracked bowl out and don't patch the cup.
Don't patch anything. Don't mend. Buy safety pins.
Don't even sew on a button.
Let the wind have its way, then the earth
that invades as dust and then the dead
foaming up in gray rolls underneath the couch.
Talk to them. Tell them they are welcome.
Don't keep all the pieces of the puzzles
or the doll's tiny shoes in pairs, don't worry
who uses whose toothbrush or if anything
matches, at all.
Except one word to another. Or a thought.
Pursue the authentic—decide first
what is authentic,
then go after it with all your heart.
Your heart, that place
you don't even think of cleaning out.
That closet stuffed with savage mementos.
Don't sort the paper clips from screws from saved baby teeth
or worry if we're all eating cereal for dinner
again. Don't answer the telephone, ever,
or weep over anything at all that breaks.
Pink molds will grow within those sealed cartons
in the refrigerator. Accept new forms of life
and talk to the dead
who drift in through the screened windows, who collect
patiently on the tops of food jars and books.
Recycle the mail, don't read it, don't read anything
except what destroys
the insulation between yourself and your experience
or what pulls down or what strikes at or what shatters
this ruse you call necessity.

The Cat Woman, A Study: Part One, Julie Newmar

"Catsophranic"--"He's under the influence of catsophranic, a drug which reverses all the normal, moral ethical standards and causes him to act in the exact opposite of all he believes in."

Sylvia, Oh, Sylvia...You Will Never Be Through

Film by Sylvia Stein; Read by Sylvia Plath; 50th Anniversary of the Publication of Her Masterpiece, "Daddy"

We Are All Made of Stars

Stars have always helped me to get things into perspective . . . I tried to let the starlight heal something deep in me that hurt.

  —Madeleine L'Engle

For a long time, people have used stars to find their way in the dark. Many a lost soul has been guided by the North Star or the Big Dipper. 

If we watch the sky at night, we can see thousands of twinkling stars. They are our friends. They remind us how small we are. They remind us of the vastness of the universe, of the power and beauty that surround us. 

Starlight in the sky, or reflected on a lake, can comfort us when we hurt. With safe and open arms, nature accepts our sorrow, no matter how we express it. Starlight, like all of nature, reflects a light that comes from way beyond us. It is that light that heals us in a deep and quiet way.

How has nature comforted me when I am troubled?

Today's Gift

Bye Bye Blackbird: Letting Go.

These are quotes from the most helpful article online that I've found about healing yourself and moving on after the ending of a difficult relationship, all courtesy of this article on Belief Net. I need these here to remind me. And I hope they can help someone else.

Letting Go of What Was
We can get relief from our nostalgia for a passionate love by remembering the intensity of the memory does not hold some great truth about the relationship’s sacredness. Remember, what fueled the attraction may not have been love, but your soul’s desire to heal the past.

Purge the Merge Urge
Subliminally, people in love promise they will meet all of each other’s needs while having none of their own. (Like mommy did!) We long for the feeling of fullness again, of merged egos. Getting free means understanding that the completeness you felt with your past love echoed a memory from infancy. Had the relationship continued, you would have seen boundaries snap back in place with the inevitable reestablishment of reality. No one would have made you feel that high forever.

Are You Romanticizing
Brain scientists now recognize that nearly 20 percent of us suffer from “complicated grief...One of the hallmarks of complicated grief is a persistent sense of longing for the lost one and a tendency to conjure up reveries of that person.” The persistence of a romanticized memory contains an addictive element but the element is not in the former relationship, it’s in you. A realistic assessment is empowering. Keep a cheat sheet of unflattering truths and refer to it when you slip into dewy daydreams. It is easier to let go of a human than a hero.

There's No Such Thing as One and Only
Repeat this 20 times. Ask yourself whether deep down you believe that remembering the relationship preserves it in some way. Embrace the reality that longing does not connect you and write a new belief code: "This is a person of great worth, but not to me. Each of us probably has 10,000 people we could feel a similar connection to---don’t mythologize as “one and only” someone who actually might have been unremarkable.

Your Brain Speaks Body Language
Your brain believes your body, sort of a reverse of the placebo affect. Don’t talk about the old relationship, don’t ritualize it, don’t note anniversaries, or send mental messages. Your brain will notice how healthy you are and deepen those neural networks until they become routine.

Turn to Creativity
One of the best balms for emotional wounds is creativity, which is different from staying busy. Creativity is deeply engaging. It fills you from the inside out.

Read it Right
Swap longing reverie for gratitude—by whatever means you can. Something to look forward to—a ritual you enjoy. Books work best because they are intellectually captivating and pull you into the moment. Best book to get? “How to Break Your Addiction to a Person” by Howard Halpern.

Exercise to Exorcise
Go to the gym regularly, or go for a run. Regular exercise keeps your endorphin levels high and keeps you from falling into melancholy memories.

Shut the Door on the Uninvited Guest
Practice separating your “self” from your “thoughts.”  Say, “Thanks, Mind, for the boring and obvious update.” In other words, respond without resistance—a mental yawn.

Disarm with Charm
When thoughts come unbidden replace them with neutral, factual thoughts, again offering no real resistance. Or, put distance between yourself and persistent memories. Add words in front of them like, “Oh, I’m having that thought about __again.”   “Would you look at that! I’m aware that I’m thinking about ___again.”You are neutralizing your own knee-jerk reaction.

I Look Down; I Feel Giddy

Why is life so tragic, so like a little strip of pavement over an abyss? I look down; I feel giddy; I wonder how I am ever to walk to the end.
  —Virginia Woolf

As we look toward the hours ahead, we can be thankful that we need be concerned with only a single day's worth of hours. No more. What may come tomorrow, a decision that might be necessary next week, a big change in our lives coming next year, all will be handled with ease, when the time is right.

How fortunate we are! Our worries about the future are over, if we want them to be. We need to take only one step at a time. One day at a time. And always in the care of God. Relief from our lives of worry is immediate when we live the axiom, "Let go and let God."

Life does present us with tragedies, and we learn from them. They need not detour us, however. In fact, they strengthen us and encourage personal growth. And no experience will ever be more than we and our higher power can handle.

Just today, and no more, is my concern.--Each Day a New Beginning

Try a Little Tenderness

"The next time you go out in the world, you might try this practice: directing your attention to people—in their cars, on the sidewalk, talking on their cell phones—just wish for them all to be happy and well. Without knowing anything about them, they can become very real, by regarding each of them personally and rejoicing in the comforts and pleasures that come their way. Each of us has this soft spot: a capacity for love and tenderness. But if we don’t encourage it, we can get pretty stubborn about remaining sour."
(From No Time To Lose by Pema Chödrön)

This One's for True Love and Affection

“You yourself, 
as much as anybody in the entire universe,
deserve your love and affection.” Buddha

“Become a child again – 
because only with the child
will you be able to gain your spontaneity,
will you again become part of the natural flow, Tao.” Osho

The Only Life You Can Save is Your Own

Andre de Dienes Marylin Monroe Undated

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.
--The Journey, Mary Oliver