Thank you, as always, for how much of yourself you share on these pages, and how thoughtfully and eloquently you do it. (I suspect you'd be both surprised at how often "No whining on the yacht" now gets quoted in my neighborhood).
But: "But what's been gnawing at me lately is the realization that, in recent weeks, I haven't been reaching very deep."
That feels like a trap: the sense of obligation to not write unless you have something deep, profound and soul-baring to share. I think your recognition that women of your (okay, our) age aren't looking for someone to "complete them," has a parallel in your readership. I don't think most of us come to your pages because we expect every post to be profound. Your writing is a way we keep company with each other, you, and all of us. Sure, when something is on your mind, we'd love to hear it. But there's also a lot of joy in just that Saturday afternoon conversation about everything and nothing at all at the same time. It's joy and communion enough just to walk in the wildflowers together.
Since I know just a bit firsthand about your today's post Jeff, I will chime in here. I think from a women's point of view, and I am speaking for myself, intimacy in a way of cuddling did and still means a lot more than "humping like bunnies." I agree with you, that you are a hell of a better bet than majority of man out there. For now, greetings from the coast of Croatia and the mountains of Slovenia, where wild flowers are in full bloom.
I agree with those notes below. You are so honest and open about the difficulties facing you now. I wish for you the best that you can be. You certainly have a lot of friends, who care about you.
Thanks Jeff for this heartfelt and brave post. You've tried to pass on some of Ruth's knowledge to me, but the names never almost never stick... but it's the rarest wildflower whose name is easiest to remember: Jeff.
Oh my goodness, thank you. Thank you for trusting your readers to meet you and love you exactly as you are. Thank you for opening the kimono and letting us in like this, revealing the softer underbelly of what it's like for you now. It only makes me love you more, brother, so much more.
Hey, Jeff, I really enjoy your posts. The one about wildflowers made me think about a moving poem by Israeli poet Yehuda Amichai that was part of my recent poetry concert. I thought you might appreciate it. --Shoshana (Dan's friend)
Wildpeace—in Hebrew Shalombal
Not the peace of a cease-fire
not even the vision of the wolf and the lamb,
but rather
as in the heart when the excitement is over
and you can talk only about a great weariness.
I know that I know how to kill, that makes me an adult.
And my son plays with a toy gun that knows
how to open and close its eyes and say Mama.
A peace
without the big noise of beating swords into ploughshares,
without words, without
the thud of the heavy rubber stamp: let it be
light, floating, like lazy white foam.
A little rest for the wounds - who speaks of healing?
(And the howl of the orphans is passed from one generation
What a heartbreakingly beautiful poem. Thank you so much. Strangely I know that state of mind exactly right now: I just returned from performing my solo show at a theater in San Leandro. It was a successful performance, to my enormous surprise (and relief), and afterwards I felt that exact kind of [wildpeace] that Yahuda Amichai speaks of in the poem. A calm that is not the antidote for noise. A calm beyond the need for any preexisting conflict. Lovely.
Thank you so much for reading my posts, and for replying with so much useful wisdom!
Congratulations, Jeff! I'm so glad your show went well. I'd read the post about your pre-show jitters but your awareness of the challenges you were up against seemed an antidote to "failure." My poetry concert last Wednesday also went surprisingly well, leaving me and the audience in a deep and hopeful uplift of wildpeace. Thanks for so grokking Amichai's call to the Earth's resolution. Onward.
Hi Jeff, I wanted you to know that you’re not the only person around the Eastbay with Parkinson’s that doesn’t have a partner. I’ve been thinking back to my Parkinson’s support group, which has been meeting for about seven years. We are all women and there are 10 of us. In that time, two husbands have died, one woman just married, and two of us are not in relationship and live alone. The relationships we have developed among ourselves, and with others in the Parkinson’s community are valuable in their own right. Sure, I miss the idea of cuddling and having someone around all the time, and as I continue to age and my body continues to break down, I imagine that’s not gonna happen. I do appreciate your willingness to share your longing and although I don’t know you personally, I bet you do still have a lot to offer.
Hi Nirmala/Brooke, Thank you so much for your comment. It definitely opened my eyes to the fact that I'm not unique in my 'un-paired' situation. Wonderful that you have such a strong support group, from all I've heard that is healthiest thing we can do (along with exercise, of course) to prolong our "on" time. And thank you for your vote of confidence in me!
I appreciate your sharing your journey with Parkinson's. Thank you. And by the way, companionship and cuddling are far more important than sex at our age, so put your mind to rest on this issue.
Thank you for this beautiful, vulnerable post. The flowers are so beautiful. I too have been attempting to learn the names of all the amazing flowering trees in Ann Arbor right now. I keep saying to myself, "I'm a writer, I should know the names of things!" But I have a hard time keeping them in my head. I sure do love them, though.
One of my most meaningful relationships is with a woman nearly 40 years my senior. It isn't physical, but our bond is one of the strongest I have. Emotional and intellectual harmony is nearly as good as cuddling. Age is an illusion; the human soul knows of no such thing.
I'm reminded of the poem by John Keats: She dwells with Beauty -- Beauty that must die. And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu; and aching pleasure nigh...
We are all wildflowers: fragile, ephemeral, beautiful. Thanks for reaching deep, Jeff.
Hi Jeyn, I don't remember saying that, and can't envision it, but if I did it was because I was thankful that I was not obligating anyone else to burrow through this diagnosis with me.
Thank you, as always, for how much of yourself you share on these pages, and how thoughtfully and eloquently you do it. (I suspect you'd be both surprised at how often "No whining on the yacht" now gets quoted in my neighborhood).
But: "But what's been gnawing at me lately is the realization that, in recent weeks, I haven't been reaching very deep."
That feels like a trap: the sense of obligation to not write unless you have something deep, profound and soul-baring to share. I think your recognition that women of your (okay, our) age aren't looking for someone to "complete them," has a parallel in your readership. I don't think most of us come to your pages because we expect every post to be profound. Your writing is a way we keep company with each other, you, and all of us. Sure, when something is on your mind, we'd love to hear it. But there's also a lot of joy in just that Saturday afternoon conversation about everything and nothing at all at the same time. It's joy and communion enough just to walk in the wildflowers together.
Thanks so much for this, Pablo!
Since I know just a bit firsthand about your today's post Jeff, I will chime in here. I think from a women's point of view, and I am speaking for myself, intimacy in a way of cuddling did and still means a lot more than "humping like bunnies." I agree with you, that you are a hell of a better bet than majority of man out there. For now, greetings from the coast of Croatia and the mountains of Slovenia, where wild flowers are in full bloom.
I agree with those notes below. You are so honest and open about the difficulties facing you now. I wish for you the best that you can be. You certainly have a lot of friends, who care about you.
Thanks Jeff for this heartfelt and brave post. You've tried to pass on some of Ruth's knowledge to me, but the names never almost never stick... but it's the rarest wildflower whose name is easiest to remember: Jeff.
Oh my goodness, thank you. Thank you for trusting your readers to meet you and love you exactly as you are. Thank you for opening the kimono and letting us in like this, revealing the softer underbelly of what it's like for you now. It only makes me love you more, brother, so much more.
Hey, Jeff, I really enjoy your posts. The one about wildflowers made me think about a moving poem by Israeli poet Yehuda Amichai that was part of my recent poetry concert. I thought you might appreciate it. --Shoshana (Dan's friend)
Wildpeace—in Hebrew Shalombal
Not the peace of a cease-fire
not even the vision of the wolf and the lamb,
but rather
as in the heart when the excitement is over
and you can talk only about a great weariness.
I know that I know how to kill, that makes me an adult.
And my son plays with a toy gun that knows
how to open and close its eyes and say Mama.
A peace
without the big noise of beating swords into ploughshares,
without words, without
the thud of the heavy rubber stamp: let it be
light, floating, like lazy white foam.
A little rest for the wounds - who speaks of healing?
(And the howl of the orphans is passed from one generation
to the next, as in a relay race:
the baton never falls.)
[Wildpeace]
Let it come
like wildflowers,
suddenly, because the field
must have it: wildpeace. Shalombal
Dear Shoshana
What a heartbreakingly beautiful poem. Thank you so much. Strangely I know that state of mind exactly right now: I just returned from performing my solo show at a theater in San Leandro. It was a successful performance, to my enormous surprise (and relief), and afterwards I felt that exact kind of [wildpeace] that Yahuda Amichai speaks of in the poem. A calm that is not the antidote for noise. A calm beyond the need for any preexisting conflict. Lovely.
Thank you so much for reading my posts, and for replying with so much useful wisdom!
Warmly,
jeff
Congratulations, Jeff! I'm so glad your show went well. I'd read the post about your pre-show jitters but your awareness of the challenges you were up against seemed an antidote to "failure." My poetry concert last Wednesday also went surprisingly well, leaving me and the audience in a deep and hopeful uplift of wildpeace. Thanks for so grokking Amichai's call to the Earth's resolution. Onward.
Hi Jeff, I wanted you to know that you’re not the only person around the Eastbay with Parkinson’s that doesn’t have a partner. I’ve been thinking back to my Parkinson’s support group, which has been meeting for about seven years. We are all women and there are 10 of us. In that time, two husbands have died, one woman just married, and two of us are not in relationship and live alone. The relationships we have developed among ourselves, and with others in the Parkinson’s community are valuable in their own right. Sure, I miss the idea of cuddling and having someone around all the time, and as I continue to age and my body continues to break down, I imagine that’s not gonna happen. I do appreciate your willingness to share your longing and although I don’t know you personally, I bet you do still have a lot to offer.
Hi Nirmala/Brooke, Thank you so much for your comment. It definitely opened my eyes to the fact that I'm not unique in my 'un-paired' situation. Wonderful that you have such a strong support group, from all I've heard that is healthiest thing we can do (along with exercise, of course) to prolong our "on" time. And thank you for your vote of confidence in me!
I appreciate your sharing your journey with Parkinson's. Thank you. And by the way, companionship and cuddling are far more important than sex at our age, so put your mind to rest on this issue.
Honesty is a good look for JBW--it's what I'm here for.
Beautiful photography! And such poignant writing..
Look forward to seeing you in your event in San Leandro.
Thank you for this beautiful, vulnerable post. The flowers are so beautiful. I too have been attempting to learn the names of all the amazing flowering trees in Ann Arbor right now. I keep saying to myself, "I'm a writer, I should know the names of things!" But I have a hard time keeping them in my head. I sure do love them, though.
Beautiful flowers, deep reflections. 🌸
One of my most meaningful relationships is with a woman nearly 40 years my senior. It isn't physical, but our bond is one of the strongest I have. Emotional and intellectual harmony is nearly as good as cuddling. Age is an illusion; the human soul knows of no such thing.
I'm reminded of the poem by John Keats: She dwells with Beauty -- Beauty that must die. And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu; and aching pleasure nigh...
We are all wildflowers: fragile, ephemeral, beautiful. Thanks for reaching deep, Jeff.
Hi Jeyn, I don't remember saying that, and can't envision it, but if I did it was because I was thankful that I was not obligating anyone else to burrow through this diagnosis with me.