Cindy on February 26th, 2009
How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were? — Satchel Paige
Whether we use Nice ‘n Easy to hide our graying temples or refuse to show our drivers’ licenses, most of us secretly hope to appear younger than we are. But why is it so hard for smart women to age honestly? Last month, I polled several of my middle-aged female friends and colleagues, asking if they lie about their age. Since I promised not to use their real names, the answers that came back to me were candid â and as eye-opening as Olay’s best anti-wrinkle serum. Read more in this week’s MIDPOINT column in The Oakland Press.
Cindy on February 15th, 2009
“It is absurd to divide people into good and bad. People are either charming or tedious.” — Oscar Wilde
When my son was a child, I often volunteered to help at his small parochial school. I supervised Valentine’s Day parties, traced Halloween pumpkins, carpooled for field trips, and baked countless cookies for fundraisers. In the process, I formed some warm and lasting friendships with the other volunteer moms. Except for one.
There was one mom who just didn’t like me — a mom who had a knack for making me feel like a social misfit in Mean Girls. I never figured out why. Sometimes I’d try to extend my hand in friendship, but she remained as chilly as the Eskimo Pies we handed out to the fourth graders on Ice Cream Day. It’s possible that I reminded her of an unforgivable person who’d wounded her in the past. Or maybe I said or did something to offend her. Whatever it was, my transgression remains a mystery.
Even if you’ve never been a homeroom mom, you know exactly I mean. You’ve probably got at least one social nemesis.
The woman who doesn’t like you might be the tetchy neighbor who criticizes your perennial beds or the paint color you chose for the front door. Or she’s the toxic relative who snubs you at family barbecues. And how about that envious co-worker who can’t bring herself to pay a compliment on your new blazer or congratulate you on your hard-won promotion? No matter what you say or do, you’ll never win these people over. Even when you’re as sweet as key lime pie, they’ll refuse to sit at the table of your friendship.
Sue Patton Thoele calls them âthe black holesâ in our personal universe. Thoele is the author of a book of inspirational essays I keep at my bedside, A Woman’s Book of Soul: Meditations for Courage, Independence & Spirit, (Conari Press). In one of the essays, Thoele recalls an awkward time when she wasn’t hitting it off with two women in her own social circle.
âThe energy I put out to these women was merely absorbed as if it had disappeared into a black hole and none came back to me,â she explains. As a psychotherapist, Thoele understood that we all tend to project our unconscious feelings onto other people. She knew that the qualities we find annoying in others are often the same ones we dislike in ourselves. But it wasn’t even that complicated. The cold-shouldered women in her circle were simply the wrong candidates for her friendship.
âIf we’re saddled with the belief that everyone needs to like us in order for us to be acceptable — or that we should be able to be friends with anyone — we cause ourselves a lot of pain,â Thoele explains. âWe’re simply âenergetic misses’ with some people.â
When I was a lot younger, I’d spend months trying to figure out why some relationships fly while others can’t seem to get off the ground. I struggled to understand why a simple case of envy can boil over until it scalds and spoils what might have developed into a mutually supportive alliance.
And I’m still in awe of the fact that most men, like my husband, rarely waste time wondering why some people don’t like them. They shake hands and move on. Women, however, tend to lose sleep devising ways to appease or impress folks who needn’t count so much. We work hard to avoid conflict and maintain the status quo, often at our own expense.
I know now that healthy relationships are reciprocal — a graceful dance of give-and-take. When I find myself feeling snubbed, neglected, used, or short-changed, I’ve probably stumbled into Black Hole Territory. I trust my intuition and quietly bow out.
Being authentic, after all, is a requirement for true friendship. Being authentic means that we fully own who we are — and stop trying to adapt to what others might expect of us. It can take years to arrive at that place. I’m not there yet, but I’m working on it. Meanwhile, it’s liberating to give up the notion that everyone has to uphold my political beliefs or religious convictions. It’s a relief to realize that even my closest friends and I won’t always share the same taste in books, movies, restaurants, or fashion.
I’ve finally realized, too, that there’s no shame in the fact that a few of the people I meet aren’t going to like me. And as long as I remain civil, I’m entitled to reciprocate the feeling. – Cindy La Ferle
Cindy on February 12th, 2009
“The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time.” — James Taylor, American songwriter
Traveling in provincial France and Paris for our 25th anniversary, my husband and I had a rare chance to observe a lifestyle noticeably different from our own. The best souvenirs we brought back home weren’t the trinkets we’d collected from museum shops, but the sweet lessons we gleaned in French cafés. I’m sharing my “French lessons” in this Thursday’s Midpoint column in The Oakland Press.
– Click here for last week’s introductory “Midpoint” column. –
Cindy on January 6th, 2009
The key question isn’t “What fosters creativity?” But it is, why in God’s name isn’t everyone creative? Where was the human potential lost? How was it crippled? I think therefore a good question might be not why do people create — but why do people not create or innovate? — Abraham Maslow
Lately I’ve been feeling stuck, burned out, immobilized. And it’s not just because I’m worried about the so-called print media crisis. I’ve been working long enough to know that periods of fallow time are part and parcel of the writing life. I know that all writers go through days or weeks when the work feels off, or never good enough — when self-doubt is a faithful office companion. And I know that it passes soon enough.
In her new book, Stuck: Why We Can’t (or Won’t) Move On, Anneli Rufus talks about why so many of us struggle to make necessary career changes when we know it’s time to move on. Or why we can’t seem to mend relationships that aren’t working. She details some of the things that keep us stalled — living in the past; holding grudges; the need for instant gratification; bad habits; perfectionism; consumerism. I recognize my “stuckness” in many of Rufus’s pages.
Thankfully, I’ve learned over the years that my best antidote to writer’s block is focusing on different creative projects that have little or nothing to do with writing or publishing. Cooking a beautiful meal, for one example, satisfies my need to work with my hands and to offer something that will nourish others.
But I’ve found my greatest satisfaction working on mixed-media collage or constructions in the art studio upstairs. This art form requires that you use “found objects” or whatever else you have at hand — sort of like rustling up dinner from the pantry when you haven’t had time to grocery shop. It’s imaginative and messy and challenging. (The piece of art shown in the photo above is an example of mixed-media construction, recently created by my husband Douglas.)
When my life feels like a series of disparate parts that don’t make sense, mixed-media collage is also wonderfully therapeutic. Crafting a collage, like writing an essay, requires that I look at my world in new ways. I hunt for beauty in places I’ve overlooked before: tool boxes; hardware stores; the recycle bins in my garage. I’m compelled to hunt for possibilities in thrift shops and my own junk drawers. Every object is sacred in the mystical-ordinary sense, and even junk mail is worth a second look. Everything has a story waiting to be told — not necessarily in words, but in shape, form, texture and color.
I’ve been writing steadily and professionally for nearly 30 years, and I don’t imagine that I’d ever stop altogether. Keeping a journal and posting these essays is my way of making sense of the world. But this year it’s likely that I’ll devote more time to artwork and look for new ways to explore my creativity. Shifting the balance feels a little risky now (change always does) but that’s what makes midlife fresh and exciting. This could be the year I take the leap — and get unstuck. — Cindy La Ferle
– Original artwork, “Dad’s Younger Brother,” by Douglas La Ferle –
Cindy on November 13th, 2008
Can you imagine us years from today, sharing a park bench quietly?” — lyrics by Paul Simon, “Old Friends”
As busy as we are these days, it’s hard enough to find the time we need to nurture our most important family relationships. Keeping up with close friends can be twice as challenging. This month, my regular column in Michigan Women’s Forum addresses the delicate topic of how some friendships change or fade over time, and how, sometimes, we have to let go. –CL
