I’ve Always Wanted to…Skydive

I always wanted to skydive. 

Really.

I had plans to do so with a friend, but dammit all, she had the temerity to get herself killed in a motorcycle accident before we could execute the plan. 

Photo by Mario Gogh on Unsplash

She was quite an inspiration in my life and I was just never able to bring myself to do the skydiving thing without her.  And then in my late 30s, my chiropractor asked me, “Do you ski?” I said No.  And he said, “Good.  Don’t take it up.”  And then I said, “I suppose that means skydiving is out too.” 

The look on his face.  Apparently, he was terrified of flying.  You would have thought I’d suggested he remove a testicle or something.  “Oh, God, no.  No.  No skydiving.”

And so, it’s a want that will forever be unfulfilled and I find myself mourning the loss.  How many other I always wanted tos am I not going to be able to do?

Getting old sucks.

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The Secret West Virginia Writers Spring Conference

The West Virginia Writers annual conference, always in June, always at Cedar Lakes Conference Center in Ripley, WV is one of the writing world’s best-kept secrets. Where else can you see a lineup like this (including me!) for $125 for members and $150 for nonmembers. Lodging, on-site, is reasonable as is the cafeteria food plan. You can give yourself a stellar writing retreat for not much moola! Info here.

West Virginia Writers, like the people of West Virginia, are very welcoming. You needn’t worry about coming alone, you will leave with friends. Find your writing tribe in Wild and Wonderful West Virginia.

They Had Had Too Much

The day the women had had enough will be remembered. 

I believe, after the dust settles and the men get over themselves, we will come to revere the anniversary of the Women’s Rebellion.  For years people have spouted that famous proverb  “When sleeping women wake, mountains move.”

We have awakened.  We are woke.   And we have had quite enough thank you very much.

Photo by Gayatri Malhotra on Unsplash

I was proud to be with the women of my town on what began as a sleepy Saturday, August afternoon.  Congress made their announcement, timed for the weekend so as to escape the news cycle.  During the dog days of summer when they thought we were sleeping.  It was my birthday and I thought,, “How dare they!”  HOW fucking DARE THEY.  And I don’t use that word.  But I used it a lot that Saturday. 

On my birthday.  To make such an announcement.  I was not surprised, but I was outraged.  I hadn’t considered that all of womanhood would be as incensed. 

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When all it took was a cupcake. . .

Joy. 

Bliss.

Ecstasy.

What does it take to feel those.  They came naturally when I was younger, but not so much now.  Have I seen too much?  Done too much?  Am I jaded?

There are still some experiences guaranteed to bring it on. Bliss is found in the first warm day in the garden, muddy hands, muddy knees, crystalline blue skies, and the soft air of an Appalachian spring. 

Joy.  To be joyous may require a light heart.  Perhaps I have too many worries for joy.  But no, my grandson brought me joy.  Holding him, time stopped and it was just me and Julien.  Time stopped.  The moment.

And Ecstasy…the birth of my son.  Perhaps the only time of my life that I was truly ecstatic.  It’s a state of being that suffuses the whole body and the whole mind.  Nothing else in that moment but the sensation of unfettered happiness at the cellular level.  The moment stretching on and on.

But remember when something simple could provoke these states?  Perhaps they are side effects of youth – states of being easy to slide into before the world beat us down.

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