April 2024

I love you. Happy April. Happy springtime. This is the month of regrowth, renewal, revitalization and hope.

Going outside, feeling intoxicated by the scent of the fresh air, I’m infused with a welcoming vitality. I’m feeling utterly frisky! I’m energetic and feel an extra spring in my step. Now that my knee has healed from my missed step, I’m full of beans, excited on all fronts.

Let’s decide to have the entire month of April be one of embracing the external wisdom of nature. I have an urge to cut to the chase: I want to understand the essence of all of life. While I’m still able, I want to metaphorically suck the marrow from the bone.

Nature does nothing that isn’t essential. I’ve been mysteriously drawn to a book by the famous Chinese writer Lin Yutang called The Importance of Living, published in 1938. For several months I’ve been thinking about his practical wisdom that I deeply embrace. My aunt Betty Johns sent me a copy of Dr. Lin’s book the summer before we went around the world in November 1959.

The Importance of Living teaches us that “the meaning of life lies just in living itself…. Life is to be valued in itself because we are living here and now, and not as a means to attain other ends.” Life, as in happiness, is the end to all our human desires and longings.

Sixty-five years ago, I read his words, “The wisdom of life consists in the elimination of non-essentials.” Nature and human nature are united in life. The process of integration of all knowledge is the wisdom of life. Whenever I pay attention to the deep, profound truths that nature teaches us, a powerful sense of calm washes over me and through my entire being.

Recently a friend and I took a leisurely stroll around an arboretum in Wilcox Park in Westerly, Rhode Island. Mary and I rested on a bench near a small pond that is completely surrounded by an infinite variety of trees from all corners of the planet. While we absorbed the warmth of the sun and observed the trees’ reflections in the water, a pleasant sensation became a mindful meditation of observation.

“Look, see three turtles,” Mary said. They were on a small round object, basking in the sun, and I could see their shells, and then their heads and feet. If Mary hadn’t pointed them out to me, they could have gone unnoticed; they were camouflaged by the natural surroundings. A young boy and girl were feeding a variety of fish nearby. How wonderful it is to have a park near where they live.

They had ridden their bikes to a natural setting of incomparable beauty on a glorious spring Saturday afternoon. My hope for future generations to enjoy exploring nature’s seasonal transformation in real time, without unwanted distractions, has been restored. They felt a real connection to the array of fish they were feeding with Cheerios, breaking them up into small crumbs for the goldfish. Their enjoyment of their chosen activity gave me vicarious pleasure.

During the winter months, we naturally spend more time inside our houses. I spent many happy, leisurely hours daydreaming about France and how the country has had a substantial effect on my chosen lifestyle. In the cottage, I am surrounded by objects I love that are filled with meaning and memories — French Provincial furniture, paintings by French artists, French linens, hand-blown glass and a library filled with books about French artists and writers.

When Peter proposed to me, knowing my love of Paris, he suggested we spend our honeymoon in the most romantic city of light. To my great delight, I introduced Peter to a city he had a love affair with that lasted the rest of his life. On March 15, Brooke and I celebrated his birthday. We toasted “Sweet Pete” with sparkling, misty eyes, feeling his sweet presence, his love of us and his profound goodness, decency and humanity.

Eleven years ago, I wrote about Peter’s wanting to go to Paris for his 91^st birthday! I want to share this unpublished manuscript with you titled “In Celebration of Peter’s 91^st Birthday, March 15, 2013.” I came across this essay in a box with the unpublished book Sweet Pete: A Love Story. Someday soon, I’ll share that with you!

Sweet Pete: A Love Story was written in 1991 — 22 years ago. I was 50 years old, and Peter was 69. What is astonishing as I read over this unpublished manuscript is that I have such a distinct, vivid memory of reading the end of my book to some good friends from Mississippi in the living room of our New York City apartment, in front of the same fireplace where Peter told me he was too old to marry me all those years ago. There I was, having a belly laugh when I read to them about Peter’s excess: “A fire becomes a bonfire; a meal a feast.”

When I completed Sweet Pete: A Love Story, we’d been married 17 years. I have no memory of when the idea to write an intimate love story about Peter began to take form in my imagination. I have an even vaguer clue why I randomly chose to end the story when I did. This book reads like a diary or journal, a personal record of experiences and reflections, a detailed glimpse into our romantic partnership that has grown closer with each approaching year.

Revisiting this love story now, as we’re celebrating Peter’s 91^st birthday, is so nostalgic. It is so much more powerful, so much more meaningful, so much more poignant because we have a broader, deeper perspective about our enduring love for each other. None of us can accurately predict the direction of our lives; the only thing Peter and I knew, for sure, was that we wanted to spend our lives together.

Just as then, when I finished writing Sweet Pete: A Love Story, I now have no more intelligent knowledge about the details of our future time together. All I do know is that this backward glance makes me absolutely certain that in these subsequent 22 years, the preciousness, commitment and intensity of our love are rock solid in our maturity. We have studied philosophy together, and as a result, we’ve ripened into a deeper understanding of the ever-expanding possibilities and joy that devotion of this depth can bring to the human spirit. The only security and certainty we have for the future is the unquestionable love and the richness of our amazing, collaborative lives. When we are together, we feel safe. I do things for Peter. Peter does things for me. We are so inextricably interconnected that it would be impossible to disentangle our united souls. We are definitely partners in all things.

I love the symbolism of the $55 band of gold that Peter bought from Tiffany & Co. when we married. The design is two intertwined ropes. No one can untie them — together the rope is powerfully strong.

I’ll be forever grateful to my literary agent and friend, Carl Brandt, who told me after reading the manuscript so many years ago, “Lucky you. Lucky Peter. This story is too intimate, too autobiographical, too premature and should not be published now. You are too young.”

Obviously, I must have needed to tell the story of our love as a response to a tug in my heart. But Carl was correct — Sweet Pete: A Love Story was only part one. I’ve written Living Beautifully Together, Living In Love and Happiness For Two. Whenever I write about love and happiness, Peter is always my model and inspiration.

My strong inclination to write about Peter now, in anticipation and reflection of his 91^st birthday, prompted me to review what I’d already written. Early one morning, before the sun rose, I quietly went to my writing room, lit a candle and gazed at the sweet bouquet of purple tulips on my desk. I tenderly took the lid off the sunflower-yellow manuscript box and timidly began to read.

Rereading this manuscript early that March morning was a turning point in my life. I’d just published The Shared Wisdom of Mothers and Daughters: The Timelessness of Simple Truths, and the fact that Peter was marching toward his 92^nd year was a powerful incentive for me to write about the love of my life. While the intimate details of our lives have changed — as has the nature of our evolving love — in these succeeding years, the basic truths about our love are permanently etched in our minds, souls and memories.

Our love story is not a comedy or a tragedy. It is an honest story of true love that has authentically and intuitively evolved as a mature love. We make necessary adjustments as we age, continuing to be open to growing in all the various forms and dimensions love represents. We’re conscientiously trying to greet our new needs and circumstances with as much grace, humor and charm as humanly possible.

When I first wrote this love story about Peter, he was at the top of his professional career as an international trial lawyer. I was at the height of my career as an international interior designer. We were both writing books and giving lectures. We enjoyed the blossoming of Alexandra and Brooke as they grew up to become intelligent, charming, fun-to-be-with young ladies, who were well on their way toward independence, making meaningful lives for themselves.

Peter and I have certainly lived exciting lives together. Our halcyon years have indeed been prosperous and golden. Being able to revisit this love story about Peter brings me great happiness, freshly reminding me of his wisdom, grace and generous spirit. Being able to share the beauty of this extraordinary, gentle soul with my readers allows me the joy of realizing just how fortunate I am to have someone with such noble character and spirit love me as completely as Peter does.

Peter and I are inextricably intertwined. Nothing, not death or anything before the inevitable physical end of our togetherness, could possibly separate us. True love like ours has an eternal quality to it, even if only in our hearts, minds and memories. However, putting some of our sentiments down on paper provides a way for people to know Peter from my love story. As a waitress told my friend and literary agent Carl, “To know Peter, you’ve got to love him.”

There isn’t any way to know me without understanding that I’ve looked up to Peter since I met “Mr. Brown” when I was 13: He is my muse, my mentor, my teacher and my inspiration to live a beautiful life. Because of Peter’s guidance, love and encouragement, I’ve had the incentive to stretch my intellectual powers and have been richly rewarded by the intense pleasure and happiness my studying has brought me.

I'm acutely aware that our love is inexplicably mysterious and can’t be scientifically examined under a microscope. There are aspects in all of our lives that are beyond earthly comprehension. The more we stretch our minds, the more divine we become. Being a truth seeker — enlightenment — is a process of discovery and wonder. I believe there is truth of divine grace in any love that pierces this deeply. By trying to convey the essence of our interconnectedness in all aspects of our lives, I’m humbled to have Peter as my constant companion and sage.

We’re now living more simply, more quietly, more deliberately. Our lives remain well-ordered. Our outer lives are vastly different now because we’re free from the demanding commitments and schedules of clients and unrelenting workloads, now able to embrace long, productive hours of our chosen work. The transformation from the balance of outer living to inner solitude has given us a far richer, fuller, happier life than at any other time.

We walk about in our seaside village. We spend our days reading, writing and listening to lectures on the DVD player. We listen to classical music, we go out in the garden and endlessly listen to the singing of the birds — the mating calls of the cardinals. We listen to our family and friends’ stories, their humor, and most importantly, we now are more acutely receptive to listening to our hearts. Peter wrote a wonderful book, The Art of Questioning. I’ve always felt he could write an equally important book, The Art of Listening. Peter, more than most people I know and respect, listens well.

Now we know we are in the serious countdown of our golden years together. If the best is yet to be, we have already achieved this milestone. We both feel complete. We are living on the borrowed time of infinity, of transcendent reality and the purest of all possible definitions of love. I feel compelled to record and share a close look into the character of this magnanimous man, someone who has brought me my greatest stimulation, companionship and love.

At 91 years old, Peter makes it clear to everyone who knows and loves him that he is a happy, happy man. He enjoys the simplest pleasures with the same glee as a child at his birthday party. Life itself provides ample presents. Walking with Peter in our village is witnessing his love of friends, children and dogs, especially puppies. His appreciation of the beauty all around us is profound as he’s able to mosey at leisure to soak it all in. Peter never misses an opportunity to engage — to make a quick connection, a quick compliment, a quick keen observation. Children know him as “Peter Rabbit” and the “Bird Man.” He chimes in doing bird calls that become a duet with the cardinals he greets along our route. Few flower blossoms are not appreciated and admired.

Our winter in Connecticut was long, with a major blizzard. On a particularly bleak day, we took up the discussion about where to go for Peter’s birthday. We thought about all the favorite warm island escapes we’ve loved over all our years together. When we lived full-time in New York City, we were naturally drawn to beaches to regain our equilibrium, and we enjoy the extraordinary simplicity where sky meets water. We also adore palm trees. Where should we go? I was determined this particular birthday would be special.

“Paris. I want to go to Paris.” I couldn’t stop laughing. I couldn’t have been happier. Peter wanted to be in Paris. Apparently, there is no known cure for Paris. Quietly, Peter and I slipped off to Paris for his 91^st birthday, at his request. His soul told him he wanted to wake up and celebrate in Paris. We toasted each other at a favorite restaurant with pink champagne as we savored black truffles on toast. We walked around, revisiting haunts we’ve enjoyed frequently together since we first came to Paris on our honeymoon in 1974. We enjoyed the flowers in the shops and created a garden in our hotel bedroom and bathroom. We lit scented candles, savored unstructured time alone and talked about our great good fortune to be in Paris together. Peter told me once, “Paris has a strong draw on my heart. That’s all there is to it, and that’s what makes it so exciting.”

Paris was freezing. They’d had a huge snowstorm a few days before we arrived. Our flight was six hours delayed. But never mind, we were in Paris, and while physically it was cold, emotionally we’d never felt greater warmth. The joy of this particular visit was sweetened by the huge fuss we made over this milestone birthday. There we were, alone, together, tenderly celebrating each other in our favorite place in the world. Would this be our last trip together to this city that holds so many of our happiest memories? Would international travel prove too difficult in the future?

Alexandra and Brooke were delighted Paris was our destination, but they were adamant we buy new suitcases with wheels. I put my foot down with black, and we bought new “wheelie” bags from the same luggage store where our other blue-purple bags came from. They were ordered over the telephone and arrived by Federal Express the next day.

Paris gave Peter all his sensual treats — he loves the visual feast everywhere his eye looks. The fact that there is no other place on earth as romantic or pleasurable stimulates our love of beauty, our love of life. Age has greatly enhanced Peter’s charming, romantic spirit. Because all romantics are hopelessly sentimental, Peter’s 39-year love affair with Paris is where we have continuously returned for inspiration, cultural stimulation and renewal, as well as enjoyment and love. We blessed each and every Paris meal for bringing us incomparable dining pleasure, awakening all our senses, utterly delighting our taste buds and giving us an abundant amount of grace and happiness.

Our lives are up to date. We’ve indulged in simple pleasures while they’re available to us. Because our union occurred relatively late in life, from the beginning, we’ve lived with a sense of wanting whatever time we do have together to be spent with intensity, self-expression and graciousness. Paris has set a high standard for us to follow. She is there as a state of mind for us as well as a physical place.

Because Peter and I have fully enjoyed the seamless evolving chapters in our lives together, I feel we have few regrets. Obviously, all human beings make mistakes. We learn our greatest lessons from what we’ve done wrong or what we’ve neglected to do. Our misunderstandings, our fears and our prejudices have kept us from being our most loving, ideal selves. Most of us have come a long way in our development and thoughts about the entire spectrum of social issues, but I’m afraid we have a long way to go. Beginning with slavery and moving forward, we have to unlearn a great deal of the bias of unequal, unloving teachings and become more nonjudgmental.

I do not have a deaf ear or a blind eye to the sorrows of the world. And there certainly are times when I feel whelmed — not overwhelmed, but whelmed — by the entrenched hatred, the religious fanaticism and the people with no conscience who do unspeakably cruel things to innocent people. There certainly seem to be fewer saints than sinners. However, I am extremely conscientious to focus attention on the higher values and noble deeds of human potential and am on a continuous quest to strive toward the light of truth and enlightenment, believing, as Peter does, that the future can be better than the present or the past, but only if we learn to be more loving, one to another.

What we pay attention to, what we dwell on, becomes our reality. We must choose to concentrate all our powers on our highest interests, on the aspects of our lives we can improve. I want to dwell on the life I aspire to live with Peter and try to comprehend the depths and heights of our conscious awareness of our love’s possibilities. I want to live with as much clarity and mindfulness as possible. This intention, of living in the breath, trying to pay attention to what’s most important, requires tremendous honesty, searching for clues that expose more light on our mutual path.

Looking back, when I decided to write about happiness, even though it was a bittersweet experience that produced a fair measure of pain as well as pleasure, it was all completely worthwhile. The enormous struggles, the heartaches, the tears, the frustration of rejection, the extremely complex difficulty trying to feel comfortable with my sincere voice, my private viewpoint about happiness — it all became a transcendent adventure. The process is the reality.

Writing about my core belief, that happiness is a choice, led to the publication of Choosing Happiness: Keys to a Joyful Life. Because happiness is an attitude of mind and heart — an achievement that is far from automatic, requiring considerable focused effort regardless of outside circumstances that are completely beyond our control — we always have a choice about how we can move forward and carry on, using our energy in constructive, positive ways. Spending my time thinking about the nature and forms of happiness greatly increased my own sense of happiness. What we think, over time, we become.

Now, revisiting Sweet Pete: A Love Story, I feel the same intensity and urgency to express my views about our love for each other as I did when I was in the wilderness trying ever so sincerely to express my subjective feelings about happiness. While the subject of love is just as elusive as happiness, having Peter as the main character, with the focus on my beloved, allows me an unapologetically personal viewpoint that is unaffected by the external world. Our union is unique to the particular chemistry of the minds and hearts of two private souls.

As a friend laughed, “Alexandra, you know your subject well,” I’m not writing fiction or an advice book. I’m merely being humble in my praise of a superior human being with whom I am deeply in love. All love, as with beauty and happiness, is in the eye of the beholder. What I love, what I find beautiful and what makes me happy is intimately personal. My love for Peter and his love for me are intimately private and profound. Because of this close view, there seems to be clarity and illumination guiding our path and glimpses into universal love. Perhaps what we all want is to be cherished, to be heard, to be understood and to be loved. But, as we all know, love is not an entitlement, and it can’t be bought or demanded. Whether we deserve to be loved or not, true lasting love may never come about in one’s lifetime.

Whenever we have fairytale fantasies about what love should be, or when we have impossibly unrealistic expectations about how we can live well together, disappointment takes over the romantic spirit. Writing, for me, is a way to express my deepest-felt emotions. By reading over this 22-year-old manuscript, by editing it and adding to the story, I’m able to not only relive these extraordinarily rich years we’ve shared, but I’ve gained a wider lens in order to have a better perspective of just how beautiful Peter truly is. I think it is fair to say that his devotion to my life and my daughters Alexandra and Brooke has made all the difference in our love of life and our happiness.

I hope our love story helps you to celebrate your loved ones with greater appreciation, tenderness and understanding.

I read in the New York Times Arts section that the Museum d’Orsay is having an exhibition on the origins of Impressionism, and Brooke and I decided to go to Paris and see it. Brooke and I went to several French Impressionism art exhibitions in New York this winter. We were definitely geared up for an art-energy trip. We’re about to explode with anticipation of actually being in Paris together. She reminded me that the last time we were there, just mother and daughter, was 40 years ago. It’s time for our return visit.

We’ll celebrate Peter’s March birthday, being in Paris in the springtime, our May anniversary, and we’ll feel his exuberant presence in all the familiar places Brooke and I will visit.

My literary assistant and good friend Elissa Sweet and I collaborated on a video project this year. When I wrote you to inquire about your interest and support, your enthusiasm was overwhelmingly positive. I felt empowered to barrel ahead, supercharged with a new form of connecting with you, through my voice, rather than words on a page.

Elissa, as most of you know, does all of my technology. Before the digital age, I loved to take my own photographs. Because I’m off the grid and have chosen another path, Elissa is my sole resource for all the beautiful pictures she takes for this newsletter. Because she is an artist, her innate talent and skill have been a lifeline to help me enhance our interconnection with each other.

I am excited to share this intimate video we created, featuring a day in my life and how I use the art of seeing the world to turn ordinary experiences into the extraordinary. Join me as I wander through the nature that surrounds me and take a trip to a few of my favorite places so close to home. We can appreciate the art and beauty of everyday objects and experiences and bring mindfulness into ordinary tasks. In this way, life can become art.

While we had intended this to be part of a series, I decided to let go of moving forward with future videos. While Elissa and I jumped right into doing these videos, neither one of us had any idea just how time-consuming and complicated it is to create one of quality. When I go to a movie, theater or film on the big screen, I pause at the end to study the credits. I’m bug-eyed to learn how many talented people are involved with one picture we see at the theater. As Elissa and I concluded, “It’s a lot.” We had an absolute blast creating this video, and we are so grateful for the lessons we learned in the process.

I have no regrets. Zero. When Elissa showed me the final edited version of our inaugural video, I cried. “Judge me tenderly,” in the words of the Belle of Amherst, the poet Emily Dickinson. I’m deeply grateful to Elissa for accepting to take on this project and for all the hard work she put into making this gift from me to you.

With that, I am delighted to present “Living Your Best Life: The Art of Seeing.”

I’m absolutely delighted to feel so personally gratified and happy with my choice to stop now. I’m humbled. It was simple, but not easy, to let go. Nothing is ever a waste of time when we are learning, growing and challenging ourselves, because we’re tapping into greater depths of understanding about our innate characteristics as a human being. Each of us has our unique ways of making meaningful connections to others.

I’m embracing the mystery of the unknown future. There will be many surprises, twists and turns. One thing I know that is true, good and beautiful: Whenever we do the right thing, at the right time, for the right reasons, this will elevate our compassion, humanity and ability to love.

I’m off to Paris. I’m writing this newsletter in the middle of the month and will return just before Easter. I hope you, your family and your friends are uplifted by the message of love. Let’s celebrate all the colorful ways we can work toward greater peace on earth and goodwill to all.

Love & Live Happy,