February 2024

I love you! Happy February. This is the month of love. When I begin these letters to you each month by telling you I love you, my heart swells with gratitude. I feel our love is mutual. We know each other (in more or lesser degrees); we like each other; and we trust each other. This strong, sustainable support is fundamental for reciprocal love.

Shared love is complementary. Because of character, personality and temperament, we bring our own perspective to our relationships with friends. Mysteriously, friends complete each other in ways they can’t experience alone.

Loving and being loved brings us elevated levels of happiness. When we have interests and passions we love, we become infused with positive energy. When we’re in a loving mindset, we’re aware of the importance of a positive attitude in our moment-to-moment actions. Whatever we do, when we’re in a loving consciousness, we open up all the doors and windows of the different chambers of our heart with fresh vitality and inspiration.

Love brings light and hope to darkness. Love comforts us when challenged or when we’re going through difficulties. A loving spirit lifts up energy, lightening the weight of situations beyond our control.

When I was 55, my book Living in Love was published. Chapter one is a love letter to Peter. In the second paragraph, I wrote, “Our meeting place is love and life itself is the aphrodisiac.” Aphrodite is the goddess of love and beauty; an aphrodisiac is living, beautiful energy. Since I wrote this book, I’ve grown even more in love with life. Without thinking about the natural, incremental aging process, the years swiftly added up. The mathematical reality doesn’t lie.

All the years that built up to now bring me joy in remembering. Our past is always a clue to who we are in the present. Technology has advanced so rapidly since the 1970s; I’m grateful I lived in a pre-digital world in my formative years. I’m blessed that I’ve remained true to myself over the past five decades. There are always sacrifices and compromises in life. We have to decide what’s best for us and own our choices.

Through all the years, I’ve been so fortunate to know and cultivate loving relationships with people I greatly admire. Most of my friends who receive this monthly newsletter are people I know through my writing and interior design work. How gratifying for me, at 82, to have friends ranging in age from teenagers to people in their late 90s. Because my work required travel, often we met where you lived. My heart is so wide open because of all the wonderful people I’ve met throughout these exciting years. I love you and thank each of you for adding so much joy to my daily life. I hope you feel as strongly as I do that these mutual feelings of affection in our friendships are what bring us moments of our greatest happiness.

In January, I wrote about choosing a word for the year. When I asked a friend for her word for 2024, she expressed that love, joy and peace are “trite.” I disagree. The reason these three words are not “original, fresh or unusual” is because they are the eternal teachings of ancient philosophers and spiritual leaders. It is up to us to take their wisdom to heart to live according to their definitions.

Aristotle understood that we, as human beings, have been created with the spark of the divine. We are transcendent beings. When we contemplate what is true, good and beautiful, we move closer and closer to the gods. He believed all our actions aim at the good. Unfortunately, in the 2,500 subsequent years of evolution and change, some people are ignorant of his ageless truths. Whenever someone does the right thing, they’re authentic. People listen more carefully because the message rings a bell of truth.

Aristotle wrote about friendship in Nicomachean Ethics: “Without friends, no one would wish to live, even if he possessed all other goods.” In book one, chapter one, his first words are, “Every act and every inquiry, and similarly every action as well as choice, is held to aim at some good. … Friends are held to be the greatest external good.”

Each friend expresses their love and belief in what is good in their own way. There are many different forms of friendships because of each unique connection to a specific friend. Collectively, all our friends can enrich and expand the heights and depths of our own humanity. When we are trusted, true friends, we’re in a position to share deep meaning, comfort, love and support. We, in time, become “I-thou.”

Recently Brooke and I heard an excellent sermon on the subject of unselfish love. When we listen to the personal concerns of others, we’re in a position to help them better themselves. Whenever we take people in need into the circle of family love, we are graced by unselfish feelings. “Love is the way. Love transforms our world.”

The minister mentioned an exercise in selfless love. One small act of unselfish love done every day for a month can have an impact and make a difference. We must each answer to the fundamental question: Why do we focus on love? We know from experience how unselfish acts of kindness connect us to a wide range of ways to become more engaged with our community. When we share what we love to do and what we have to give with others, we are demonstrating how being loving is a gift of grace, freely given, among the very people with whom we want as our friends.

I’ve so enjoyed hearing from you after the holidays. The decorations have been put away. We’re all looking forward to what’s ahead. As we move into each future day, we will invariably be bombarded with surprises. Even if we aren’t completely surprised by circumstances beyond our control, we are guaranteed that there will be many twists and turns in the months ahead. We have to keep in mind to do our best and leave the rest.

I find it enormously humbling to have you continue to reach out to me with such loving kindness. Every connection we have made — no matter when, where or how — is a blessing to me. Because our paths mysteriously crossed, and we have made a difference to each other, we are continuously connected in a variety of ways that aren’t always known to us.

Thank you, dear friends, for reminding me of how this mutual bond began. I love hearing your stories of what you remember about our first meeting. I feel so fortunate and grateful that we are in each other’s lives in such life-sustaining, generous-spirited ways. This opening of our hearts requires mutual affectionate regards. Even though I’ve led a quieter life in Stonington Village in recent years, we’re still relevant even when we’re not face to face.

What a delight to feel this give and take of meaningful exchanges that uplift each of us. When we genuinely want to be loved, as the poets teach us, “be lovable.” I’m embracing this new year with great enthusiasm, expectations and appreciation for our precious friendship. We may not do big things, but when each of us does little things with a great deal of love, we’re cultivating our collective values. Together, over the years, we are improving the quality of all the lives we touch. We never know the extent and impact of how each of us influences each other.

Thank you for adding your words to focus on this defining year, 2024.

Brooke and I decided at the last moment to drive to Watch Hill, Rhode Island, for lunch. It was a bitterly cold, raw January day. The sun was shining brightly. We headed for the Ocean Hose, where we could have a yummy salad in the bar area, in front of a warm fire, while also looking out at a spectacular view of the ocean.

Once home, still thinking of our pleasant time in such a beautiful setting, I wasn’t paying close attention to my steps on the stairs. I know better. It only takes a mini-second to lose our balance, especially with big feet on shallow 18^th century stairs. My distraction of visualizing our wonderful, memorable visit, cozy by the fire, is no excuse. Feeling exuberant caused me to take the stairs automatically, rather than focusing my own mind on each step.

X-rays showed no broken bones. I didn’t fall but somehow twisted and bruised my knee. The doctor told me I shouldn’t use the stairs “for a few days” without supervision. Hum.

I live alone. I usually go up and down the stairs regularly throughout the day. Not only is it good exercise, but I’m used to living in all the rooms in the cottage’s four floors. I go to “three,” where I often write (and where my slide library is located), and the basement (zero!), where I go to do laundry. If peace is every step, I vow to be aware of each step I take when going up and down stairs.

On home arrest, I elevated my knee and iced it to reduce the swelling. I hobbled to the kitchen and bathroom with a walker or two canes. Mostly, I was a potted plant.

Aha.

Brooke brought all my necessary belongings to the downstairs bedroom and bath. Downstairs (no stairs) is where I’d heal! What’s fascinating to me is something I learned after I broke my hip several years ago: when it is necessary to limit our lives, we’re extraordinarily adaptable. When something is inevitable, we can always choose to make the best of it. Silver linings are welcome!

I treated this forced simplification of my lifestyle as though I was on a retreat. I took care of my injury by staying put. A few of the 10 days of living downstairs, the weather was frigid. I loved being cozy and comfortable with a throw over my legs, enjoying a relaxed, uninterrupted stretch of time in the beauty of my own sanctuary.

I dug into some serious reading that required deep concentration and quiet. Rather than feeling deprived because I had limited mobility, I let my knee vulnerability become my strength. I was given a welcome home vacation. Joseph Campbell followed his bliss by sending several years in seclusion in order to read.

Lao Tzu’s “empty and be full” insight resonated with me so much during these meaningful 10 days of calm, stillness and reflection. Even though I was perfectly capable of using the stairs after a week, I didn’t. Brooke was going on a ski trip, and I knew my daughters would worry about me being alone, using the stairs, in case I fell. I have double banisters and I can one-step each tread mindfully, but I was content — and being risk-averse is wise at my age.

Funny how our mind works. By the time Brooke came over to assess how I managed the stairs, I’d become so ensconced in my routine on the first floor, enjoying myself fully, that I wasn’t champing at the bit to leave my “retreat”!

Ah, but once upstairs, how I loved slipping into my own bed. We had changed the sheets together that morning. I sat up in bed, lounging in order to enjoy looking out at the first light on the harbor. I took pleasure to return to my bedroom desk next to the window to read and write. Spending time upstairs again after a forced absence did, indeed, make the heart grow fonder.

I feel richly blessed that I managed so well and enjoyed how I was able to wisely use this bonus gift of time at home. As my neighbor Charlie reminded me one morning when he brought me the newspaper, the simpler we live, the happier we are. I will appreciate those 10 quality days for a long time. My knee is healing beautifully, and I’ll be starting physical therapy soon to strengthen my leg muscles. A happy ending to the January mis-step!

My friend and neighbor Penny was given a brass mantel clock on her 21^st birthday as a timeless gift from an uncle. She’s treasured it all these years, but one day it just stopped ticking.

Around the same time, Peter’s favorite clock conked out suddenly, leaving a dead silence behind. The clock is an Elliott, the finest English clockmaker, and has four angels in relief on the corners of the movement. (Peter intimately referred to me as “angel.”)

Since our marriage in 1974, this one clock had been a daily presence in our lives. We consciously observed in reverence when it struck the hour. I shared the Westminster chimes with close friends to hear, instantly bringing Peter’s presence to the present moment. After Peter died, I deliberately cultivated a spiritual connection to the sacred. Because of life’s impermanence, all living things die. We are mortal. Death is an eternal mystery. The preciousness of symbols reinforces the life-death interconnectedness. Peter’s clock became a symbol that represents him by association.

In April 2022, our mutual friend Charlie brought both Penny’s and Peter’s clocks to Brad, his watch and clock expert. Brad was backed up with watches and clocks to repair. We were warned that he is expensive, and we will have to wait our turn to have them worked on. Because Brad is the best, we knew we were entrusting them to the right person.

At the end of January 2024, Brad drove two hours on a stormy day to deliver the clocks. Over tea at the kitchen table, he unwrapped the clocks, and when he reset mine and I first heard the chime, I was elated. Charlie came for tea to visit with his friend and to be given one of his watches.

Penny and I share this tender love of our clocks. They have kept us company, being our constant companions through the twists and turns of life. They are now alive with us as we continue to move forward through time. All we do to care for them is wind them once a week, a ritual we do with silent pleasure. Just imagine Penny’s uncle’s 21^st birthday gift having so much meaning for over 60 years!

Ironically, our antique J.E. Caldwell & Co. hall clock stopped after Peter died. It had been wound by him the last week of his life. The clock repairman who kept taking it apart to figure out why it kept stopping eventually gave up! He literally retired to Maine to live!

When Brad was here, I told him about the mystery, and he wanted to take a look. He wiggled the pieces of plywood under the clock, placed there because our floors are not level. He adjusted the pendulum, “putting the clock in beat.” The tick and the tock, the da-did-da had an irregular beat. It now is in beat, the pendulum swinging freely under the influence of gravity. It chimes on the hour’s precise time now! Brad knows his clocks!

Seeing the radical 1967 movie Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner for the third or fourth time opened up something profoundly significant. Turner Classic Movies featured Sidney Poitier recently, and this poignant film aired at 8 a.m. Carpe. I felt a pull to be freshly inspired about loving relationships. The beautiful, colorful scenery, the superb acting and the moral messages were spot-on.

The star cast of favorite character actors was startlingly unreal, with Katharine Hepburn, Spencer Tracy and Poitier playing the leads. In the film, Hepburn and Tracy’s characters are, ironically, married, and their white daughter falls in love with Poitier’s character, a Black doctor.

Tracy plays the role of Matt, a father newly awakened to the mysterious power of his daughter’s love despite the societal pressures that seek to separate them. The young lovers are determined because fate miraculously brought them together; obviously they were meant to be together in a committed relationship. Was Matt, the doting, loving father, who wanted to protect his daughter from the inevitable hurt society would inflict on them, willing to shatter their chance of happiness?

I know many of you have seen this movie, but for those of you who have never experienced Tracy’s unwavering transcendence, treat yourself. Spencer Tracy died roughly a month after filming, and at his side was his real-life love, Katharine Hepburn.

Peter’s last words to me were “I love you.” I was at his side to listen and hear his soft whisper in his labored breath. I feel certain Hepburn and Tracy’s deep love and reverence for each other remained the driving force in her always daring to be true to herself. I deeply relate!

In closing, because this February is Leap Year, we gain an extra day; there are 366 days in 2024! Think of all the stars in the galaxy that will illuminate your soul in this month of love. There have been so many epiphanies, wonderful memories of past Leap Years’ mysteries: take this bonus day as an omen, as a sign of future good.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Love & Live Happy,