Dance Threshold

Our son once called us "quotable."  My love, who is wicked smart, teases me and delights in my laughter.  The banter is stimulating and fun.

He has grown to enjoy "This American Life." I've been a fan for years.  We went to see Ira Glass when he came to Kalamazoo.  It's one of several podcasts I listen to while doing housework, commuting or, my favorite, communing in the tub with a cold drink or a glass of wine.

I received this text from my fella recently:

I listened to the episode first on the drive home.  Didn't quite get it.  A bit ago, once more.

Then it hit me.  It's the intro, about marriage.  I loved the piece but didn't recognize myself in it.

SHS gets me.  He reads me.  I was shocked.  Did he miss a cue?  Did we have a disconnect?

NO.  Not at all.

I will post a link to it here.  If you look in the app store you would just search:  This American Life and get the episode marked, "Choosing Wrong."  I'm a couple of episode behind and this one has a lot of interesting stuff but the part he's referring to is the beginning, about marriage.

A few years ago, I went along with my husband, our son and a friend to see the Griffins.  We were waiting for the game to start.  They played 30 seconds of an eminently dance-able song.  I bopped.  I was loved, happy, excited and teasing my soul mate by really grooving.  His enthusiasm for dance is mostly fueled by my love of it.  I think it takes courage to dance when you're a foot taller than anyone on the floor. He's got a rhythm.  Mostly stays in "the zone." After a few beers he's actually really good. I love dancing with him.

When I was 22 years old, I would dance for hours with almost anyone who asked.  I don't have skill but I have lots of enthusiasm.  It fills me up, the music, the crowd, the movement.

So, in my 30 seconds of jamming, the camera found me.  I didn't see it - but our son did.  Pointed and shouted and laughed at the big screen.  I sent up a fervent hope that I hadn't embarrassed the young man too much.

My husband?  Laughed with pure delight, squeezed me tight.  Kissed my cheek.

Then the hockey was on . . .

http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/590/choosing-wrong

The Illusion of "Brokenness"

I wrote this 13 months ago but I've been busy.  Before I write the blog I came here to write, I'm going to post it.  If you've read some of my older blogs, you know I believe that the white space is the art in a piece.  This one is unfinished but it talks about what I was learning, thinking and using to grow, a year ago last May . . . .

Can't kayak this morning - so I've been thinking (and visiting with a friend) about how each of us is "broken."   I know that the struggles of my life have caused me to have triggers.  Triggers can be worked on, worked out and improved with work.  Think Therapy!

Although we can work on the way we are broken, the triggers will continue to affect us, create opportunities to learn about ourselves and others.  Maybe the triggers are a gift.  They are painful, awful things.  I still don't walk to the mailbox to get my mail.  My fella handles that for me.  There are many things he handles for me and many I handle for him.  We each have Stuff we are carrying.

One of my friends recently said that marriage is that "you team up against the world."  So, those things we choose to handle for one another are gifts.  It doesn't mean we can't each handle our own Stuff.  It means we love each other enough to pinch hit in the tough times.

When I was meeting men, while searching for my love, I met many men who had big Stuff.  Carrying big stuff is a part of life.  Dealing with big stuff is a part of life.  Finding someone whose stuff you can deal with is the key.

One of my friends described the dating sites as "the island of mistfit toys."  I think that's about right.  On the other hand, I've always felt that the key in any friendship is to be in it.  I do think many friendships have a natural trajectory.  Someone I feel very close to may need to move on.  I may choose to not be involved in their lives.  There is an arc to many relationships.