‘There can be no relationships without some pain, for you or for the other person’.  This is a paraphrase of what seems to be conventional wisdom.  To the extent it is true, the pain stems from the disconnect that may exist between the two parties.  A disconnect is almost always, in my opinion, the result of one or both parties failing to maintain clear communication.  This failure could be because the person who isn’t communicating is:  a) socially awkward; b) insanely busy with other concerns; c) disinterested; d) passively-aggressively hostile; or e) one or more of the preceding.

So, when in emotional pain, one may: a) yell and scream; b) stalk the other person; c) engage in character assassination; d) get over it and find something more meaningful to do, so as to break the cycle.

I’ve been on both sides of this.  Good people have been interested in me, but I haven’t been interested in them, in the same way.  Good people have been disinterested in me, and it has taken me a bit longer to pick up on their cues, but in each case, I got past it- including with the most recent such person.  She really has no other choice than to be disinterested, for reasons I’ll not go into, ever.

Each of us goes through a measure of emotional pain, but, as with the physical kind, it’s necessary, if one is to grow and to realize what life is supposed to become. Some respond to emotional pain by staging temper tantrums, or criminal acts.  Others withdraw, avoiding those who stand ready to help them recover and move along nicely.  I’ve had tantrums, as a younger person, and withdrawn at times- most recently for three months, after Penny passed.  I’ve never been into criminal acts, and am past withdrawing, unless one counts hiking solo as a withdrawal, of sorts.

What really concerns me, in this area, is not perpetuating a cycle.  The tendency has been for hurting people to hurt others.  So, I ask those who read this to think- “What has been my response, and the response of the person who hurt me, to emotional pain at any stage of life?”  “Have I, or has that person, done anything to continue the cycle- or has one of us chosen to look beyond the spiral of pain?”

One of the biggest personal challenges for me, in 2013, was figuring out  just what relationships mean to me.  It wasn’t as much a matter of “being in a relationship”, as determining the nature of relationships, in general.  So, I am at the point where I am thinking about the various ties I have with people.

Some think about “Who is my soul mate?”  A  person may go his/her entire earthly life without really feeling the presence of a soul mate.  Another person may deny to self that there is any such thing.  I feel there is, and I feel her presence daily, though she’s been gone from this physical plane for nearly three years.  I know others, including some of my best friends, who are still waiting to meet theirs, or perhaps to reconcile with one from whom they are estranged.

This brings me to friends.  There are several people with whom I feel a strong spiritual bond.  There are some, among this group, with whom I am almost “joined at the hip”, psychically.  A few people who have known me since childhood look at my friendships and figure that “Since _______ is a woman, you need to be careful.”  That ASSumption is missing the point, though I appreciate their concern.  To me, friends are those who can rely on me, in a pinch, and vice versa.  We have each others’ best interests at heart, and even if we have not met, physically, we know there are few barriers between us.

I am closer to my family, both nuclear and extended, now than at any time I can remember.  Extended family keeps getting bigger, and includes my birth family’s in-laws,  Penny’s family and their in-laws, all the people I have met in my travels and many in the Baha’i community whom I have yet to meet.  So, we’re talking a family of 10,000- plus.  Family is the most beautiful of institutions.  It can be the most messy of institutions, but anyone who has raised toddlers and teenagers knows that messes are part of life’s beauty.  Anyone who has seen an elder, or a disabled person, through their final years knows that messes are inevitable, and character-building.  Anyone who has anxiously watched a child morph into an adult power house knows that all the twists and turns, pushes and pulls are well worth the journey.

As 2013 moves from dusk to dark, I am in a good place.  I have no one who “desperately needs” me, and I’m not sure such desperation would be a good thing for either of us, anyway.  I feel love coming from many, and feel love towards them, as well.  Lust is not in the picture, and that’s a good thing.  Romance?  That happens when it happens, and I am just glad to have people with whom I can relax, and be myself. Besides, a little bit of me goes a very long way.

A wise man recently wrote that the best people in our lives ‘come like stray dogs, move evanescently through our lives, and disappear without a trace.’  I have had some do that, and will have more, I’m certain.  Regardless, each and all have been a pleasure, and I look forward to more such pleasure.

I had as fine a Christmas as my friend-hostess could offer, in the midst of her illness and discomfort.  Five of us enjoyed a brunch of souffle, tamales, pear-cinnamon cider, petite Danish pastries and various snack items and dips.  Gifts were exchanged, and I will burn my Bayberry Candles for as many days as they will hold up- and get more when they run out.  Bayberry is a legendary prosperity talisman.  More important is my set of CD’s for “The 11 Forgotten Laws”, of Bounty.  I was glad to have been there today.

I’ve attended many celebrations, both public and private, large and small, joyous and sketchy, over these past 63 years.  People have typically done the best they can for their loved ones and other guests.  My parents always gave us a lovely Christmas, even in the lean years.  I can’t recall any substandard extended family gathering, from weddings to birthdays to holiday get-togethers, ever.  We never have made it about the gifts.  A good celebration is always about the people.

Time was, that our celebrations were  New Year’s Eve, Valentine’s Day, maybe Mardi Gras (called Fat Tuesday, in Phoenix), St. Patrick’s Day,Easter, the Fourth of July, Labor Day, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.  Modern life has added to the fray:  Super Bowl Sunday, Lunar New Year, the Final Four, Cinco de Mayo, and Hanukkah (on a wider scale than when I was a child).  Even our solemn national days (Martin Luther King Day, Memorial Day and Veterans’ Day) have become widely celebratory in tone.

What hurts celebrations, in the long run, is an overemphasis on purchasing.  A holiday is then more about contributing to the economy, meeting another’s superficial needs through gifting or  even obeying one’s parents ( “Janie, YOU GET ON SANTA’S LAP, NOW!!”).

Celebrations, ideally, are about love, honour, respect and healing.  Christ brought an ethos of love to the world- so His special days, Christmas and Easter, ought to be the least stressful days of the year.  I am not here to judge anyone, but reflect- How was your Christmas?  Mine was lovely- not problem-free, mind you, but the things that did arise were handled with the dignity and well-being of all concerned, from youngest to oldest, being most important.  Each of us can bring about happiness for ourselves and for those we say we love.

If your Christmas celebrations are ongoing, keep the fun happening.  In any party, please look about, spread the joy and make sure no one feels uncomfortable or left out, to the extent possible.

We, in the modern era, have not had very many instantly-recognizable, world-class heroes walking among us.  Some thought of John F. Kennedy that way, but he wasn’t around all that long.  Nelson Mandela, though, was such a one as Gandhi, or “Abdu’l-Baha, ever walking the path of love and service.  His life was suitably long, 95 years, though a few more, had he been up to it, would have suited me just fine.

In the darkest days of his imprisonment, of the worst apartheid that the neo-Nazis among the Afrikaners and British-South Africans, alike, could muster, Madiba saw the future.  He knew that tribalism would still cause problems among the Black majority, that there would be corruption, some of it within his own ANC, after apartheid was gone. Yet he knew that the first and most important thing was for all to be free:  The Whites, Asians and Coloureds had to have the same rights as the Zulus, Xhosas and other tribes of the majority populace.  This led him to work with DeKlerk, with the Zulu chiefs-even with his harshest critic, Treuernicht.  There was no community left outside his vision.

Nelson transcended so much, in 95 years.  His personal life was largely that of a well-educated, cultured African traditionalist, that of a patriarch- though a benevolent one.  His life of service, though, reflected a vision that transcends centuries.  His  South Africa remains a work in progress, and the principals of the dismantling of apartheid are now all gone.  It is up to  seemingly lesser people to carry the vision forward.  Madiba would probably say, though, that there will be future Nelson Mandelas, that the people of the next several centuries will each have their heroes, their larger-than-life figures.  I am sure that’s so, and it will be among his greatest legacies, as his life was part of Gandhi’s legacy, and Gandhi’s was part of ‘Abdu’l-Baha’s legacy, and so on, back as far as we can look.

A good friend said, earlier today, that each human being should be able to strive for the greatest heights he or she are capable of achieving.  I believe that, as well.  No matter where one lives, in this world, or in the Universe, Nelson Mandela, like all the great heroes and heroines, has shown us how we may make our marks.  May he enjoy limitless blessings in the World of the Spirit.

Upon arriving at the home of my brother Glenn and SIL Barbara, on the night of August 30, I spent about 40 minutes catching up on Saugus World, tried on the clothes I had bought at Burlington Coat Factory, during a pit stop in Worcester, MA, then tumbled into the guest bed.

It was thundering and flashing when I awoke the next morning, so as I went in to take my turn in the shower, I was joined by their dog, Cati, who took a spot on the throw rug by the tub.  It seems this how some dogs cope with loud noises and electric energy coming from the skies.  I did my avuncular duty to the baby dog, and carefully stepped over her, after the shower was done.

These things come naturally to us, in my exponentially extended family.  I was, on the other hand, informed that none of my cousins would be available to see me, at any point during my visit.  No explanation was provided, but whatever.  My siblings, nieces and nephews were all on hand on Sept. 1, to honour my mother, as her 85th birthday is approaching.

I have posted some of the photos of that day, on Facebook, but will put them here, for those who get Update Fatigue from that medium, and just need a place where they can read my posts, not comment, and no one will care.  I get it. Some of my best friends get Update Fatigue, as do I sometimes.

The first step in any celebration is the set-up.  I helped with this, also.

My family mainly hung out in the living room, as it rained off and on, for the two hours of the first gathering.

Someone practices his grandparenting skills.

The guest of honour presides.

Rain did not deter the kids, big or small.

The world’s best babysitter.

In the evening, some of us gathered at a local restaurant.

Like our last mass-gathering for her 75th, Mom’s 85th brought many of us together in joy and unity.