Good morning, dear friends, and Pádraig, what a lovely gift to arrive at this prompt on a Sunday morning, wren song and all. I am slow to wake this morning after a weekend of gigs. Last night, a sunset concert with my old band, Hippie Tendencies, with whom I haven't sung in quite some time. Revisiting the songs I wrote just after that midlife point led to the most luminous evening (I’ll leave a photo in my notes) and had us all questioning why we aren't still writing together. The answer is artistic evolution, each of us reaching, but perhaps it is time for a revisit.
I just turned 60 in May, so by these measures, midlife would have been 30. I had just moved to Italy following a man who was not good for me. I didn’t yet speak the language, and I was floundering, trying to decide what direction my creative path would take. It was a moment of reckoning with a difficult childhood and the slow, terrible recognition that I was recreating the same stifling atmosphere I had grown up in.
It took a few more years, but the epiphany came when my brother visited and said that next time he would stay in a hotel because he could not bear to watch how I was being treated. That same night, I understood: any home where my favorite person on the planet cannot stay is no home I want to build. bell hooks had already been whispering this to me. "All too often women believe it is a sign of commitment, an expression of love, to endure unkindness or cruelty, to forgive and forget. In actuality, when we love rightly we know that the healthy, loving response to cruelty and abuse is putting ourselves out of harm's way." I left.
My companions in that period were mostly musical, as I was building a band. Ani DiFranco, in particular, was instrumental in the steady expansion of my own badassness. (One of the few covers we played last night was her "Buildings and Bridges”!!) And it was in that same period that I discovered bell hooks, whose Bone Black: Memories of Girlhood expanded my everything and handed me back a sense of self. She wrote, "To be truly visionary we have to root our imagination in our concrete reality while simultaneously imagining possibilities beyond that reality." That sentence became a compass.
I am still building on what she gave me. I look forward to reading you all, though I may be slow this week, still feeling the beautiful work of the last three nights.
Good morning, Lisa Marie. I love all of this. I tend to try to write a paragraph reply to Padraig's prompts, thinking more is too much. But when I read your lovely response here, I realize that there is much to share. I'll take those bell hooks quotes with me. Copy them into my journal this morning. Thank you for taking the time to let us into your 30's. I sure would have loved to have been at that reunion gig.
Good morning, Lyn. Thank you for patiently reading, heh. I’m trying not to write too much, yet each prompt reminds me of so much. I look forward to reading your thoughts and hope to have you at some future gig; this world is small.
Oh, Chantal, I almost envy you the journey ahead. There is nothing quite like discovering bell hooks. I would suggest beginning with All About Love: New Visions (there is so much tenderness within), then Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center which will reframe everything. Oh! Also, if you want to study the intersection of race, class, and culture through the most elegant lens, Teaching to Transgress is transformative. She wrote with the rigor of a scholar and the heart of a poet. Dive in, and I’ll look forward to hearing your thoughts.
Chantal, just a humble suggestion, but bell hooks might be best met in an intimate Indie bookstore — not Amazon. She would not be too keen on supporting the likes of Jeff Bezos. You'll soon see why … she's wonderful.
I hear you but I live in Australia and books like these are not readily available in Indie bookstores where they are focussed on supporting Australian writers. As someone who has lived and travelled I like to read books by writers from all over the world not just from where I live...so Amazon it will probably have to be...I'll look around though.
Thank you for starting this interesting side thread, Chantal. I live in America where an increasing number of us are angry about the damage that Amazon is doing to our community booksellers, economy, and political system, so we’re desperately looking for alternatives. We have an organization called Indiebound.org that lets us purchase almost any book from an Indie bookstore anywhere we choose, but I think they are only in North America. Maybe you could try World of Books? They are a British online used bookseller who ship internationally. I checked this morning and they had a good selection of bell hook's books. Maybe that could work?
That's true. I found some of my favorite used book vendors, like Better World Books, through Amazon originally. I've noticed that the books are often cheaper when you purchase them directly from Better World, or Goodwill. Has anybody else noticed that? And eBay can be a good source too!
Such moving honesty, Lisa Marie – thank you. It took me so long to admit and then act on that first bell hooks’ quote and the process has been such a struggle to navigate but so worth it for the sense of my own value it has given me…
Anne, the admission, gah! That’s perhaps the hardest part. Before the leaving, before the action, there is, or was for me, that long, uncomfortable moment of knowing. And then knowing you know. Phew. I am so glad you found your way to it and that you are here.
With this, I get to hold more of your life’s journey in my heart. Good morning, and thank you for these stories. That last quote from bell hooks rings in my ear—I have been deep in the slow process of learning how to have an imagination as powerful as I do while be rooting here, on earth. I’m so glad for the music and the reunion and the slowness you are affording yourself. May the integration be smooth. <3
Jo, "rooting here on earth" while holding an imagination as vast as yours, that is its own lifelong practice, isn't it? Maybe we are learning to be both the bird and the nest simultaneously. I am so glad to have your thoughtful mind engaged with these musings, and I hold your work with equal tenderness and much esteem.
Lisa, I am so glad you realized the situation was not right and that you were able to leave. My mom was not able to leave hers…We are nearly the same age.
So glad you have music as a companion on your life’s journey!
The way you describe that midlife point -- not as a crisis but as a reckoning, a clearing, a return -- feels so familiar. I'm struck by how your companions were music, voice, and the women who wrote you back to yourself. All three of those companions weigh heavily with me, as well. That sentence from bell hooks becoming a compass...yes! Some lines don't just guide us; they reorient the whole map. More correctly, your perspective and stance shift. Just as it should. You shook off those old patterns when you saw them clearly. Amen to that.
Your reunion concert sounds like one of those moments where past and present touch hands -- where the younger self and the older self recognize each other again. Thank you for sharing this! It feels like a wren-song in its own right! Sending love. XO
Oh Lisa Marie, to be saved by those who truly love us and by the voices of the poets. This is what the wren is singing about! May we treasure the voices of the artists - singers, poets and songbirds.
When I think of the middle of my life-to-date, I tend to revisit the great tearing asunder the occurred when my faith and marriage fell apart in tandem, which happened in my 40's. I am 63. So this prompt leads me to my early 30's. I love this. What "happened" to me in that half decade was my children. I finished having the four of them. They were my constant companions in every literal way. In every place I was, they were there. I have lately been feeling some envy towards my friends, also in their 60's, whose life work has amassed into things rather substantial. A body of work. A giant life savings. Recognition. Acclaim. On a long drive down the Eastern seaboard a few weeks ago I was pondering this. Pondering the "generativity v. stagnation" of my own life. Padraig made the off-hand comment at Omega that "no one will read us after we are dead" (by which I was terribly offended). Maybe not. But in my children, in their children, in their physical attributes, the tone of their voices, their sense of humor, their dreams, their integrity, the folks they touch...I do get to endure. My bank account is by no means bulging. No one is heralding me for anything more than a kind word or deed. And I am deeply loved. And I love oh-so-deeply. And this is all brought to you by what "happened" to me in mid-life. Thanks, Padraig.
Lyn, "no one will read us after we are dead" and yet here you are, already published in four living editions, walking around, making their own marks on the world. The road not taken is always compelling, isn’t it? I wonder at the children I never had, so there we are. Your bank account may not be bulging (nor is mine, this creative path has not been lucrative!), but your bibliography is four souls deep and growing. I find that extraordinary.
Your words carry the feeling of someone who has planted a different kind of forest -- one that doesn't show up as accolades or savings accounts, but as living beings who move through the world with integrity, humor, and heart. The way you describe your children as your companions, your map, your midlife turning...it feels like a legacy that breathes.
There are bodies of work that sit on shelves, and bodies of work that walk around with their own dreams and voices. Yours seems to be the latter -- subtle, enduring, and quietly extraordinary. Thank you for sharing!! XO
Lyn, Oh the insights of the poet. That comment about 'no one will read us....' struck me as well. I think it's a brutal editing machine to write what's true - for me - now. Let the future be what it may. Your legacy is children and grandchildren and that's a treasure not everyone has. And it's perfectly fair to recognize that it was indeed costly. Your image of driving down the East coast has the smell of salty wind in it. Enjoy!
I’ve had a midlife crisis almost every year to be honest. But what is midlife but a reflection on life’s moments with the clarity of time. As I have just turned 51 I initially thought to talk about being over half a century old. But really at this point nothing has really changed as I have come into a comfort with myself.
But I look back and think of myself at 38 reflecting on the death of my father at 19. There was a moment. When he died I stood in an apartment living room holding vigil over his body with my mother, sister, and uncle, without tears but relief. And went on to live a life of journey, that flirted with self-destruction as I tried to understand his life. At 38, my self-destructive ways had mostly waned, and as I was held my own one year old child at that point I vowed to do my level best to give him a life with me that my father could not give me when he was alive.
Sean, Ah the anchor of a child to care for. At a gathering with Padraig a woman read a heart wrenching poem where her mother said, 'I should have aborted you'. How painful to not be wanted in such a literal way. She told me afterwards that she was determined to make that pain stop there - and refused to pass it on to her own children. The beauty of Love shining through. That's what life is leaning towards......blessings on your teen.
I like to think I am in midlife now. Otherwise we are talking mid-20s when I had zero awareness, not much self-love and just felt life was being done to me...and I blamed others for how I was. Now in midlife I realise that life is unfolding for me, that I make a difference and that everything is a chance for growth. Spirit, Nature, Self-Compassion, Love, Magic, Creativity, Expression, Ritual and Qi...these are my companions now and now that I think about it, it all started with a 10 week online poetry circle that I joined back at the beginning of the pandemic.
"... and just felt life was being done to me...and I blamed others for how I was." I can absolutely remember that same experience, Chantal - and the lightbulb moment when I realised that things were mostly 'happening' to me because of my own patterns and choices ...
Wow! This truth! I think this is what makes me long to know myself, yet makes me resist reactively. For I know in my gut that the more I know of myself, I will see the depth of the unknown that lies beneath, and I don't feel ready for that chaos.
I've often quoted Jesus' comment: "you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free" (Jn 8:32). People tend to like it until I add that Jesus didn't promise you'd like that truth very much! Truth can be painful, but it really does do you good if you can accept it. My advice: don't be afraid of it!
David, thank you for your nudge to move forward with courage. As I was writing yesterday, I knew there was more I wanted to say, but I thought I did not have the right words or the time to get to the right words at that moment, so I stopped. Now you have given me the encouragement I needed.
Yes, truth can be painful and I suppose midlife crisis is looking at the truths of the past and the present that are painful yet necessary to look at. Defined that way, I would say my midlife journey of facing these painful truths has been ongoing for the last decade, starting in Nov 2016, followed by my father's death in 2019, then the pandemic, and most recently the threat to our democracy and how the word 'immigrants' is used as a scapegoat for those who believe they deserve power in this country. For 30 years, I focused on taking care of others' pains in my profession, as a way of avoiding facing the painful truths of my life, until the Universe/God/Mystery told me that I can no longer avoid it. The pain became too much to bear. After much wrestling with my inner critic , getting help through therapy, taking small steps to trying different ways of managing 'stress', I finally had the courage to leave my profession and be ok with not being a productive member of the healthcare machine. It is true that it is only by looking at the wounds, we figure out what is needed for healing. I somehow had neglected to apply this to myself for too long. I am learning to lean into just being, and only do what is mine to do. Last year, Home was a word that visited me often. Toward the end of the year, I realized I was on a new path of going home to my true self, a being that grew up with Confucian values, went to Buddhist temples to pray as a child, and then decided to follow Christ at the age of 18. I now embrace the unique blend I bring to the world, while knowing that we are all the same at the heart.
So thank you for reminding me to be brave and share even if I don't have the 'right' words.
I'm so glad I could be of some little help. And thank you in this reply for reminding me of meeting Pádraig at Coventry Cathedral (UK) many years ago when he came to lead a session under the title "One Sentence Stories". The challenge was this: if you were write the story of your life, what would the first sentence be? To the puzzlement of some, I came up with, "Home is a word with many meanings", an intensely personal response that has lived with me ever since. Thank you Pádraig!
You've also reminded me of a song called "How can I recognise my home" by the Estonian composer Veljo Tormis, whose very individual (and very Estonian) music I love. To quote from the English translation in my CD:
David, yes spending time with Padraig is life changing, challenging and enticing to a very special way of being in the world. If you’re in England would you think of seeing him at Greenbelt in August? I’m in the US so that’s too far for me.
Funny, that's the second time someone has mentioned Greenbelt to me today. It was lovely of you to suggest it, but I've never thought it was quite my thing, and anyway I'm off on a short cruise on my own at the same time, hoping to get from Honfleur to Monet's house and gardens - it's not exactly original, but I love his paintings, and Ali would have loved it had she had the chance.
Changing the subject somewhat, Pádraig taught me the value of stories on another visit to Coventry Cathedral - not only telling them but, much more important, listening to and absorbing someone else's. It's easy to live in silos; "loving hate and only loving others of their kind", as David Ackles put it. Stories can take you out of your silo and deep into another person's world, helping you to see things from their perspective. It's a huge risk, but that way lies hope.
HeyJin and David, thank you for your honest and insightful sharing. Padraig’s invitations to deep searching are like the alder smoke leading home through strange farms/forests.
David and HeyJin, thank you for such rich insightful sharing. What a blessing Padraig has been in my life…..his prompts and honesty like the alder smoke leading a way home through strange forests.
Thanks Patty. I met Padraig at one of his sessions at Coventry Cathedral, England, several years ago. I've never forgotten it; it remains a highlight of my life. He has the gift of being able to challenge people without insulting them; amazing!
Fascinating time to look back on...now that I can look back on it with compassion and love...and not cringe (too much). I thought I was so grown up...exiting my teens and education...moving into work and travel. How little I knew...and I know even less now...I think there's a quote about that somewhere.
My Grandmother had a beautiful voice and was a meticulous musician; she knew I also loved singing and cautioned me that vocal maturity begins at 30, so I always wanted to be 30. Now twice that (and a few measures more), I’m still happily singing and glad music has accompanied my life rather than being my life’s work.🎶
My prompt for you this week: What happened to you midway through life’s journey? How did you make a map for yourself? Who have your companions been?
Midway through life’s journey, I found myself divorced and nursing the wounds that come from betrayal from a loved one. My friends were there with me, in some cases literally saving my life, helping me come back from all the upheaval. I found myself on a road I felt ill equipped to travel.
I got up day by day, went to work, came home, took walks, took care of the people and other creatures living with me. I had a wonderful therapist who continued to piece me back to me. You make a life from the pieces you have. I know I am lucky to have some really good friends (and one brother/friend) that are so integral to my core sense of self. People that are there for the good stuff but most importantly, for the stuff that hurts.
In 2004 I went out of state to a birthday party of an old friend I hadn’t seen in 15 years. We’d been attracted to one another long ago but circumstances were such that we had drifted apart. Eventually we became a couple and at 49, I quit my job and moved to Washington state to share a life. He died 5 years ago and it is a wholly different kind of cutting adrift.
Those same friends are still my companions in life as I am in theirs. Life doesn’t get easy but they are the people who “know” me and I “know” them. It’s like we each have our map, our guide to our life, where we have been and where we are going but our maps connect to each other. We walk slightly different ways but always ready to stop and listen and help each other figure out where to go.
"You make a life from the pieces you have". That's a real encouragement to this man who was widowed after 50+ years of marriage; thank you so much. It chimes with what Ali said to me just before she died: "go and live". Hard as it is, darling, I'm trying ...
This post was truly serendipitous, Pádraig. I am 44 and have worked as an adjunct for over a decade. This past week, I was offered a full-time position. It being the summer, that change in my life’s journey hasn’t fully set in yet. But that it happened now—all three of my kids will finally be in school five days a week this fall and me on the brink of moving away from academia—is beautifully orchestrated timing. The math of midways is fascinating: at 22, I finished my undergraduate degree but wasn’t sure where I wanted to continue my schooling. And if this moment is midway, then where will I be at 88? My hope is that I will have more years beyond that. But in the in-between time, what can I make of my journey? what can I make of myself? what can I do for others? There are so many new paths, weighing challenges, and exuberant experiences to come. Thank you, Pádraig, for this post. As usual, it comes at just the right moment. My companion along this journey has been my wife. Together since I was 17 (her 15), she has been steadfast in enduring a life of contingency, exhaustion, and at time bitter frustration. She never doubted me, though I knew this journey was taking a toll. We talked at length about what was best for us and our family, and our moment. Without her care and deep love, I might not have weathered this as well as I did.
What a heartfelt reflection! The timing of your new position -- arriving just as your children step into full school days -- feels like one of those life moments that clicks into place almost on its own. I love how you're already thinking about what this midpoint might mean, not just for your career but for who you're becoming (and that is the more important thing).
Your tribute to your wife is beautiful. The way she has walked beside you, believing in you through all the uncertainty, feels like the true companion story at the center of your journey. Thank you for offering this! XO
Thank you, Carlie. Haha god I wish that was part of the fine print! I’m at a community college with a 5/5 load, so I’m looking forward to the challenge—for sure.
Jonathan, these are deep reflections. How touching that you name your partner as a priceless support getting through tough times. Intentional, truly loving parenting is a mighty challenge. May your joy in your new position give you the stamina you'll need to slog through the sea of papers and AI slop. I remember Padraig saying one time that he thought he'd give students an assignment to do in phases: once using AI and then, on their own. That way they could actually see the difference and maybe learn something from it.
Thank you for your kind words, Patty. The seas are certainly rising. I’m experimenting with how to best use/not use AI. I go back and forth. My northstar is: will it preserve or strengthen human capabilities? Or will it undermine or diminish them? I do believe it can be used ethically and intentionally, but it takes hard work and a willingness to embrace friction, uncertainty, and struggle. And those are exactly trading in the market these days.
Midway through life I was absorbed in fatherhood, in being a husband, cultivating friendships, and in my work. It was also the time I started to write poetry more readily. Writing poems helped me to pause in life, enabling me to express some of my deep thoughts and feelings. It somehow opened up, and pointed me to, new worlds. Poetry has become my companion; it suits my disposition.
I love how you describe poetry entering your life right in the middle of everything -- not as an escape, but as a way to breathe, to notice, to express what was already living inside you. There's something beautiful about poetry becoming a companion that suits your disposition, especially in a time when so much of your energy was devoted to others. It sounds like writing gave you a small but meaningful space of your own. Thank you for sharing this! XO
I am 46.. probably close to halfway through this life if all goes very well. I have lived with so much fear of living and have used the skills I grew in childhood to mask that fear. I lead with exuberance, brightness, warmth, and competence, all while holding on very tightly to myself and my breath, very afraid of what might happen if I were to take the world in to myself or move my body towards what I truly desire.
But I feel another way of moving and living is actually possible. The earth is mine to draw from and I have started to bring her in. I have strange and vulnerable art to make in this life and for decades the visions that accompany this creative pull have been blocked by fear and grief—always there was something I needed that I never received and so what I saw in my mind and felt a calling to do in my heart felt completely impossible. But now I’m letting myself explore, like a child, the strange and beautiful things I want to say, the strange and beautiful ways my body moves, the terrifying power of the erotic—I must trust my heart as she guides me out of these wastelands.
What I’m finding here, in this time of life, is astounding: Sovereignty. This feels like my oldest self and youngest self meeting, and touching, and collaborating in the now. They’ve got me.
Jo, I love your phrase 'I have strange and vulnerable art to make in this life' - inspired by Padraig's kind of vulnerability - go for it! "They've got you".
I know we’re supposed to live our lives for the satisfaction of our own hearts but i could also imagine living my life in order to make Audre Lorde smile somewhere 🔥🐆
I live 48 minutes from Elkhart, so my midway point to that journey is 24 minutes. I turn 70 on Bastille Day so my midway point to this point in life is 35, but what is the midpoint to life’s journey if I haven’t yet arrived at the endpoint? And I get the sense I never will.
*
My guide-companion on my journey is my teleological soul. Another faithful companion, our flat-coated retriever, will surely enjoy my birthday party more than I, because all celebrations with cake and candle are especially for him. He will leap on people’s laps, knowing there will be cake and a gift for him. We never want to sing the Birthday Song in front of Max except on someone's birthday, because we don't want to desensitize him. Even humming the song excites him to frenzy. July 14 will be our next witness to the miracle of levitation.
Monica, Max makes us smile too. He is so special to our family, just as so many four-legged members are to their own families. We are on the verge of bringing a stray cat into the house. That should make an exciting dynamic. Especially on birthdays!
Patty - It’s funny how Max’s IQ doubles in situations that benefit him. He picks up on the slightest hints of food, affection, walks, and car rides. He knows all the preconditions and mini steps leading to those scenarios.
Perhaps a little reminder to us to pay attention to the good things in life. Theologian Matt Fox had a much beloved dog he called his spiritual advisor, who anchored him in the Now. Give Max a scratch for me.
14 years ago I met my best friend of the last 14 years.
We were desk partners in a Year 8 Latin class, and - ever the jocks - worked a few chapters ahead. So Mrs Connolly presented us with a Latin translation of the Emperor's New Clothes (such a thing exists) and told us to have at it for the rest of term.
We had at it, sparking a joint love affair with the Classics (we ended up learning Ancient Greek together the following year) and, well, just a joint love affair. As it happens, it was his birthday yesterday, and we had a delightful party at his family home. I owe Mrs Connolly (and that vainglorious emperor) a debt of gratitude!
Elizabeth, what a brilliant, poetic reflection of Padraig's words today. How absolutely blessed to receive these precious insights and invitations. The are modeled with his own growing awareness and vulnerability, so they invite the same in us.
Mid-life today puts me at 39. Opened up a picture framing shop. Truly enjoyed creating nests and homes for other people’s visual treasures. After two years “discovered” I much preferred creating my own treasures. Began by using picture framing materials to make curious wall pieces. Also, at 39, didn’t even know that I didn’t know, or feel, what loving was all about. Somehow, turning to creating my own treasures put me on a lifelong journey of creative interests and learning about loving. Now, at 78, composing music, and marvelling, and challenged by the complexities of this dance between self-love and other love, O’ heart and mind be thee together, be still, be companions, be of one vision. 🏮
Half way through life, now 76, I never knew how it would feel to have become — just as you express so beautifully, David—a kind of living prayer that my heart for what I am able to express through writing and music, and my mind full of consistently perplexed attempts at understanding others might come together to soften the inherent conflicts: to be as passionate, as sure and all-encompassing as the song of Padraig’s wren.
In my mid-40s, I found out that someone I had known briefly but impactfully in college in the 1990s had died. We had been born just a week apart and were both lonely outsiders at the time we met. His passing hit in a way I hadn’t expected, as I hadn’t seen him in literally decades. Looking back now, his death was the start of a voyage back to myself that I am still navigating. And he has been my companion through that – reminding me of the potential I possessed at the time we knew each other but which got mislaid and buried in the intervening years. I wrote a piece about it recently, which is probably a bit too long to post here but you can read it on my own substack page: https://substack.com/@annepender
Anne, no surprise that your connection to this beloved person reawakened as he was leaving this world. I've been awakened in the night when a friend faced a crisis - so I really believe there's a whole other level of connectedness for which we don't have words. Thanks for this intimate, honest sharing. I blame it on Padraig and the quality of self reflection he shares. Aren't we lucky.......
Midway through my life I found myself broke, homeless, jobless, too far gone from depression and alcohol to do anything but commit suicide. Friends intervened and I got the help I needed. It forced me to ask hard questions: What have I always wanted to do with my life and have been too afraid to try? Or didn’t know how to do? I knew instantly I wanted to get my PhD and be a professor and teach. Within three years I was in a doctoral program and on my way. God is good!
Sharon, you battled a whole army of obstacles......wow. Let's hope your journey can help others as you reach you goal to teach. It's not just the curriculum, it's the life lessons that go along with it that can make a difference for students. And blessings on those good good friends who intervened.
Jennifer, admiration from a fellow New Yorker, for the art supplies in the trunk. Your other self reminds me of Padraig's refrain: "Hello" to Jennifer's confident and curious Other Self.
Patty, your words landed deep. “Hello” to the Other Self — thank you for seeing her. Truth is, I’ve been wishing she’d merge with the more vulnerable part of me and take the lead again. Your comment felt like her tapping me on the shoulder. Hello back to you, with so much gratitude.
Good morning, dear friends, and Pádraig, what a lovely gift to arrive at this prompt on a Sunday morning, wren song and all. I am slow to wake this morning after a weekend of gigs. Last night, a sunset concert with my old band, Hippie Tendencies, with whom I haven't sung in quite some time. Revisiting the songs I wrote just after that midlife point led to the most luminous evening (I’ll leave a photo in my notes) and had us all questioning why we aren't still writing together. The answer is artistic evolution, each of us reaching, but perhaps it is time for a revisit.
I just turned 60 in May, so by these measures, midlife would have been 30. I had just moved to Italy following a man who was not good for me. I didn’t yet speak the language, and I was floundering, trying to decide what direction my creative path would take. It was a moment of reckoning with a difficult childhood and the slow, terrible recognition that I was recreating the same stifling atmosphere I had grown up in.
It took a few more years, but the epiphany came when my brother visited and said that next time he would stay in a hotel because he could not bear to watch how I was being treated. That same night, I understood: any home where my favorite person on the planet cannot stay is no home I want to build. bell hooks had already been whispering this to me. "All too often women believe it is a sign of commitment, an expression of love, to endure unkindness or cruelty, to forgive and forget. In actuality, when we love rightly we know that the healthy, loving response to cruelty and abuse is putting ourselves out of harm's way." I left.
My companions in that period were mostly musical, as I was building a band. Ani DiFranco, in particular, was instrumental in the steady expansion of my own badassness. (One of the few covers we played last night was her "Buildings and Bridges”!!) And it was in that same period that I discovered bell hooks, whose Bone Black: Memories of Girlhood expanded my everything and handed me back a sense of self. She wrote, "To be truly visionary we have to root our imagination in our concrete reality while simultaneously imagining possibilities beyond that reality." That sentence became a compass.
I am still building on what she gave me. I look forward to reading you all, though I may be slow this week, still feeling the beautiful work of the last three nights.
Good morning, Lisa Marie. I love all of this. I tend to try to write a paragraph reply to Padraig's prompts, thinking more is too much. But when I read your lovely response here, I realize that there is much to share. I'll take those bell hooks quotes with me. Copy them into my journal this morning. Thank you for taking the time to let us into your 30's. I sure would have loved to have been at that reunion gig.
Good morning, Lyn. Thank you for patiently reading, heh. I’m trying not to write too much, yet each prompt reminds me of so much. I look forward to reading your thoughts and hope to have you at some future gig; this world is small.
well, write it alllllllllllllll then edit.....please write it all.
No one could accuse me of being miserly with my words lol. Edit is the best note you can give me, Pat!
Thank you for introducing me to bell hooks! A whole new world of wisdom on the intersection of race, gender and capitalism.
Oh, Chantal, I almost envy you the journey ahead. There is nothing quite like discovering bell hooks. I would suggest beginning with All About Love: New Visions (there is so much tenderness within), then Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center which will reframe everything. Oh! Also, if you want to study the intersection of race, class, and culture through the most elegant lens, Teaching to Transgress is transformative. She wrote with the rigor of a scholar and the heart of a poet. Dive in, and I’ll look forward to hearing your thoughts.
Just found it on Amazon. I am excited. Thank you.
Chantal, just a humble suggestion, but bell hooks might be best met in an intimate Indie bookstore — not Amazon. She would not be too keen on supporting the likes of Jeff Bezos. You'll soon see why … she's wonderful.
I hear you but I live in Australia and books like these are not readily available in Indie bookstores where they are focussed on supporting Australian writers. As someone who has lived and travelled I like to read books by writers from all over the world not just from where I live...so Amazon it will probably have to be...I'll look around though.
Thank you for starting this interesting side thread, Chantal. I live in America where an increasing number of us are angry about the damage that Amazon is doing to our community booksellers, economy, and political system, so we’re desperately looking for alternatives. We have an organization called Indiebound.org that lets us purchase almost any book from an Indie bookstore anywhere we choose, but I think they are only in North America. Maybe you could try World of Books? They are a British online used bookseller who ship internationally. I checked this morning and they had a good selection of bell hook's books. Maybe that could work?
Amazon is, however, an easy way to purchase second-hand books from bookstores and Goodwills and so on, across the country.
That's true. I found some of my favorite used book vendors, like Better World Books, through Amazon originally. I've noticed that the books are often cheaper when you purchase them directly from Better World, or Goodwill. Has anybody else noticed that? And eBay can be a good source too!
Such moving honesty, Lisa Marie – thank you. It took me so long to admit and then act on that first bell hooks’ quote and the process has been such a struggle to navigate but so worth it for the sense of my own value it has given me…
Anne, the admission, gah! That’s perhaps the hardest part. Before the leaving, before the action, there is, or was for me, that long, uncomfortable moment of knowing. And then knowing you know. Phew. I am so glad you found your way to it and that you are here.
Thank you. And once you know it, you can't "unknow" it, even if the gap between the knowing and the acting takes a while...
With this, I get to hold more of your life’s journey in my heart. Good morning, and thank you for these stories. That last quote from bell hooks rings in my ear—I have been deep in the slow process of learning how to have an imagination as powerful as I do while be rooting here, on earth. I’m so glad for the music and the reunion and the slowness you are affording yourself. May the integration be smooth. <3
Jo, "rooting here on earth" while holding an imagination as vast as yours, that is its own lifelong practice, isn't it? Maybe we are learning to be both the bird and the nest simultaneously. I am so glad to have your thoughtful mind engaged with these musings, and I hold your work with equal tenderness and much esteem.
Lisa, I am so glad you realized the situation was not right and that you were able to leave. My mom was not able to leave hers…We are nearly the same age.
So glad you have music as a companion on your life’s journey!
Karen, I’m sorry that your mother wasn’t able to find a way to move on from that. Very pleased to be connected here.
Dear Friend,
The way you describe that midlife point -- not as a crisis but as a reckoning, a clearing, a return -- feels so familiar. I'm struck by how your companions were music, voice, and the women who wrote you back to yourself. All three of those companions weigh heavily with me, as well. That sentence from bell hooks becoming a compass...yes! Some lines don't just guide us; they reorient the whole map. More correctly, your perspective and stance shift. Just as it should. You shook off those old patterns when you saw them clearly. Amen to that.
Your reunion concert sounds like one of those moments where past and present touch hands -- where the younger self and the older self recognize each other again. Thank you for sharing this! It feels like a wren-song in its own right! Sending love. XO
Danielle thank you for these generous words.
balance of basking and meandering to motion
Oh Lisa Marie, to be saved by those who truly love us and by the voices of the poets. This is what the wren is singing about! May we treasure the voices of the artists - singers, poets and songbirds.
Long live art in all its forms! Thanks Patty!
When I think of the middle of my life-to-date, I tend to revisit the great tearing asunder the occurred when my faith and marriage fell apart in tandem, which happened in my 40's. I am 63. So this prompt leads me to my early 30's. I love this. What "happened" to me in that half decade was my children. I finished having the four of them. They were my constant companions in every literal way. In every place I was, they were there. I have lately been feeling some envy towards my friends, also in their 60's, whose life work has amassed into things rather substantial. A body of work. A giant life savings. Recognition. Acclaim. On a long drive down the Eastern seaboard a few weeks ago I was pondering this. Pondering the "generativity v. stagnation" of my own life. Padraig made the off-hand comment at Omega that "no one will read us after we are dead" (by which I was terribly offended). Maybe not. But in my children, in their children, in their physical attributes, the tone of their voices, their sense of humor, their dreams, their integrity, the folks they touch...I do get to endure. My bank account is by no means bulging. No one is heralding me for anything more than a kind word or deed. And I am deeply loved. And I love oh-so-deeply. And this is all brought to you by what "happened" to me in mid-life. Thanks, Padraig.
Yes! To love and to be deeply loved is an accomplishment that is not enough recognized.
Lyn, "no one will read us after we are dead" and yet here you are, already published in four living editions, walking around, making their own marks on the world. The road not taken is always compelling, isn’t it? I wonder at the children I never had, so there we are. Your bank account may not be bulging (nor is mine, this creative path has not been lucrative!), but your bibliography is four souls deep and growing. I find that extraordinary.
Four living editions. Love this. Thanks, Lisa Marie. The world is small. To an in-person gig somewhere along the way!
Children are the biggest long-term project ever and our strongest influence on the future -- much more than our words & songs.
Dear Lyn,
Your words carry the feeling of someone who has planted a different kind of forest -- one that doesn't show up as accolades or savings accounts, but as living beings who move through the world with integrity, humor, and heart. The way you describe your children as your companions, your map, your midlife turning...it feels like a legacy that breathes.
There are bodies of work that sit on shelves, and bodies of work that walk around with their own dreams and voices. Yours seems to be the latter -- subtle, enduring, and quietly extraordinary. Thank you for sharing!! XO
This is beautiful, Danielle. Thank you. xo
Lyn, Oh the insights of the poet. That comment about 'no one will read us....' struck me as well. I think it's a brutal editing machine to write what's true - for me - now. Let the future be what it may. Your legacy is children and grandchildren and that's a treasure not everyone has. And it's perfectly fair to recognize that it was indeed costly. Your image of driving down the East coast has the smell of salty wind in it. Enjoy!
Good living indeed!
I’ve had a midlife crisis almost every year to be honest. But what is midlife but a reflection on life’s moments with the clarity of time. As I have just turned 51 I initially thought to talk about being over half a century old. But really at this point nothing has really changed as I have come into a comfort with myself.
But I look back and think of myself at 38 reflecting on the death of my father at 19. There was a moment. When he died I stood in an apartment living room holding vigil over his body with my mother, sister, and uncle, without tears but relief. And went on to live a life of journey, that flirted with self-destruction as I tried to understand his life. At 38, my self-destructive ways had mostly waned, and as I was held my own one year old child at that point I vowed to do my level best to give him a life with me that my father could not give me when he was alive.
Life is beautiful. I am still becoming.
"I've had a midlife crisis almost every year to be honest." Same. But life is beautiful, yes.
Always appreciate your honest, courageous, and insightful musings, Sean. Thank you.
Sean, Ah the anchor of a child to care for. At a gathering with Padraig a woman read a heart wrenching poem where her mother said, 'I should have aborted you'. How painful to not be wanted in such a literal way. She told me afterwards that she was determined to make that pain stop there - and refused to pass it on to her own children. The beauty of Love shining through. That's what life is leaning towards......blessings on your teen.
I like to think I am in midlife now. Otherwise we are talking mid-20s when I had zero awareness, not much self-love and just felt life was being done to me...and I blamed others for how I was. Now in midlife I realise that life is unfolding for me, that I make a difference and that everything is a chance for growth. Spirit, Nature, Self-Compassion, Love, Magic, Creativity, Expression, Ritual and Qi...these are my companions now and now that I think about it, it all started with a 10 week online poetry circle that I joined back at the beginning of the pandemic.
"... and just felt life was being done to me...and I blamed others for how I was." I can absolutely remember that same experience, Chantal - and the lightbulb moment when I realised that things were mostly 'happening' to me because of my own patterns and choices ...
So does your name mean Singing of crossing , by writing, life's rituals?
Ha! I have never quite thought of my name meaning anything...but the idea of singing of crossings is quite beautiful. Thank you for that gift.
Wow! This truth! I think this is what makes me long to know myself, yet makes me resist reactively. For I know in my gut that the more I know of myself, I will see the depth of the unknown that lies beneath, and I don't feel ready for that chaos.
I've often quoted Jesus' comment: "you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free" (Jn 8:32). People tend to like it until I add that Jesus didn't promise you'd like that truth very much! Truth can be painful, but it really does do you good if you can accept it. My advice: don't be afraid of it!
David, thank you for your nudge to move forward with courage. As I was writing yesterday, I knew there was more I wanted to say, but I thought I did not have the right words or the time to get to the right words at that moment, so I stopped. Now you have given me the encouragement I needed.
Yes, truth can be painful and I suppose midlife crisis is looking at the truths of the past and the present that are painful yet necessary to look at. Defined that way, I would say my midlife journey of facing these painful truths has been ongoing for the last decade, starting in Nov 2016, followed by my father's death in 2019, then the pandemic, and most recently the threat to our democracy and how the word 'immigrants' is used as a scapegoat for those who believe they deserve power in this country. For 30 years, I focused on taking care of others' pains in my profession, as a way of avoiding facing the painful truths of my life, until the Universe/God/Mystery told me that I can no longer avoid it. The pain became too much to bear. After much wrestling with my inner critic , getting help through therapy, taking small steps to trying different ways of managing 'stress', I finally had the courage to leave my profession and be ok with not being a productive member of the healthcare machine. It is true that it is only by looking at the wounds, we figure out what is needed for healing. I somehow had neglected to apply this to myself for too long. I am learning to lean into just being, and only do what is mine to do. Last year, Home was a word that visited me often. Toward the end of the year, I realized I was on a new path of going home to my true self, a being that grew up with Confucian values, went to Buddhist temples to pray as a child, and then decided to follow Christ at the age of 18. I now embrace the unique blend I bring to the world, while knowing that we are all the same at the heart.
So thank you for reminding me to be brave and share even if I don't have the 'right' words.
I'm so glad I could be of some little help. And thank you in this reply for reminding me of meeting Pádraig at Coventry Cathedral (UK) many years ago when he came to lead a session under the title "One Sentence Stories". The challenge was this: if you were write the story of your life, what would the first sentence be? To the puzzlement of some, I came up with, "Home is a word with many meanings", an intensely personal response that has lived with me ever since. Thank you Pádraig!
You've also reminded me of a song called "How can I recognise my home" by the Estonian composer Veljo Tormis, whose very individual (and very Estonian) music I love. To quote from the English translation in my CD:
"we would like to set out on the road
"set our on the road and begin to go
"to go towards home
"to find our own house
"how can I recognise my home
"how can I find my house
"among ten others in the village
"behind seven strange farms"
A few lines later comes the answer:
"a golden smoke rises from the chimney
"a silvery smoke rises from our farm
"an alder smoke rises from the sauna
"that's how I recognise my home
"that's how I find my house
"among ten others in the village
"behind seven strange farms"
May the alder smoke guide you safely home!
David, yes spending time with Padraig is life changing, challenging and enticing to a very special way of being in the world. If you’re in England would you think of seeing him at Greenbelt in August? I’m in the US so that’s too far for me.
Funny, that's the second time someone has mentioned Greenbelt to me today. It was lovely of you to suggest it, but I've never thought it was quite my thing, and anyway I'm off on a short cruise on my own at the same time, hoping to get from Honfleur to Monet's house and gardens - it's not exactly original, but I love his paintings, and Ali would have loved it had she had the chance.
Changing the subject somewhat, Pádraig taught me the value of stories on another visit to Coventry Cathedral - not only telling them but, much more important, listening to and absorbing someone else's. It's easy to live in silos; "loving hate and only loving others of their kind", as David Ackles put it. Stories can take you out of your silo and deep into another person's world, helping you to see things from their perspective. It's a huge risk, but that way lies hope.
HeyJin and David, thank you for your honest and insightful sharing. Padraig’s invitations to deep searching are like the alder smoke leading home through strange farms/forests.
David and HeyJin, thank you for such rich insightful sharing. What a blessing Padraig has been in my life…..his prompts and honesty like the alder smoke leading a way home through strange forests.
Thanks Patty. I met Padraig at one of his sessions at Coventry Cathedral, England, several years ago. I've never forgotten it; it remains a highlight of my life. He has the gift of being able to challenge people without insulting them; amazing!
Our twenties! I recognize some bits of myself in this description, Chantal. I felt so grown and confident in my, ahem, spurious choices.
Fascinating time to look back on...now that I can look back on it with compassion and love...and not cringe (too much). I thought I was so grown up...exiting my teens and education...moving into work and travel. How little I knew...and I know even less now...I think there's a quote about that somewhere.
That eternal paradox! The more we learn, the less we know.
My Grandmother had a beautiful voice and was a meticulous musician; she knew I also loved singing and cautioned me that vocal maturity begins at 30, so I always wanted to be 30. Now twice that (and a few measures more), I’m still happily singing and glad music has accompanied my life rather than being my life’s work.🎶
My prompt for you this week: What happened to you midway through life’s journey? How did you make a map for yourself? Who have your companions been?
Midway through life’s journey, I found myself divorced and nursing the wounds that come from betrayal from a loved one. My friends were there with me, in some cases literally saving my life, helping me come back from all the upheaval. I found myself on a road I felt ill equipped to travel.
I got up day by day, went to work, came home, took walks, took care of the people and other creatures living with me. I had a wonderful therapist who continued to piece me back to me. You make a life from the pieces you have. I know I am lucky to have some really good friends (and one brother/friend) that are so integral to my core sense of self. People that are there for the good stuff but most importantly, for the stuff that hurts.
In 2004 I went out of state to a birthday party of an old friend I hadn’t seen in 15 years. We’d been attracted to one another long ago but circumstances were such that we had drifted apart. Eventually we became a couple and at 49, I quit my job and moved to Washington state to share a life. He died 5 years ago and it is a wholly different kind of cutting adrift.
Those same friends are still my companions in life as I am in theirs. Life doesn’t get easy but they are the people who “know” me and I “know” them. It’s like we each have our map, our guide to our life, where we have been and where we are going but our maps connect to each other. We walk slightly different ways but always ready to stop and listen and help each other figure out where to go.
"You make a life from the pieces you have". That's a real encouragement to this man who was widowed after 50+ years of marriage; thank you so much. It chimes with what Ali said to me just before she died: "go and live". Hard as it is, darling, I'm trying ...
Powerful, touching, poignant! Thank you, Elaine!
This post was truly serendipitous, Pádraig. I am 44 and have worked as an adjunct for over a decade. This past week, I was offered a full-time position. It being the summer, that change in my life’s journey hasn’t fully set in yet. But that it happened now—all three of my kids will finally be in school five days a week this fall and me on the brink of moving away from academia—is beautifully orchestrated timing. The math of midways is fascinating: at 22, I finished my undergraduate degree but wasn’t sure where I wanted to continue my schooling. And if this moment is midway, then where will I be at 88? My hope is that I will have more years beyond that. But in the in-between time, what can I make of my journey? what can I make of myself? what can I do for others? There are so many new paths, weighing challenges, and exuberant experiences to come. Thank you, Pádraig, for this post. As usual, it comes at just the right moment. My companion along this journey has been my wife. Together since I was 17 (her 15), she has been steadfast in enduring a life of contingency, exhaustion, and at time bitter frustration. She never doubted me, though I knew this journey was taking a toll. We talked at length about what was best for us and our family, and our moment. Without her care and deep love, I might not have weathered this as well as I did.
Dear Jonathan,
What a heartfelt reflection! The timing of your new position -- arriving just as your children step into full school days -- feels like one of those life moments that clicks into place almost on its own. I love how you're already thinking about what this midpoint might mean, not just for your career but for who you're becoming (and that is the more important thing).
Your tribute to your wife is beautiful. The way she has walked beside you, believing in you through all the uncertainty, feels like the true companion story at the center of your journey. Thank you for offering this! XO
Congratulations on your job, Jonathan! No more will you have a sea of papers and AI slop to contend with.
Thank you, Carlie. Haha god I wish that was part of the fine print! I’m at a community college with a 5/5 load, so I’m looking forward to the challenge—for sure.
🤦♀️oh boy. Okay, well, at least there will be benefits. I actually loved working at a community college. I miss aspects of it.
We can still co-miserate with the grading and AI garbage.
Defintely can commiserate on that fact. 😆
A long-term loving relationship weathered by life is one thing money can’t buy.
Congratulations Jonathan. I love these musings and the flowers you offer for your wife!
Jonathan, these are deep reflections. How touching that you name your partner as a priceless support getting through tough times. Intentional, truly loving parenting is a mighty challenge. May your joy in your new position give you the stamina you'll need to slog through the sea of papers and AI slop. I remember Padraig saying one time that he thought he'd give students an assignment to do in phases: once using AI and then, on their own. That way they could actually see the difference and maybe learn something from it.
Thank you for your kind words, Patty. The seas are certainly rising. I’m experimenting with how to best use/not use AI. I go back and forth. My northstar is: will it preserve or strengthen human capabilities? Or will it undermine or diminish them? I do believe it can be used ethically and intentionally, but it takes hard work and a willingness to embrace friction, uncertainty, and struggle. And those are exactly trading in the market these days.
Midway through life I was absorbed in fatherhood, in being a husband, cultivating friendships, and in my work. It was also the time I started to write poetry more readily. Writing poems helped me to pause in life, enabling me to express some of my deep thoughts and feelings. It somehow opened up, and pointed me to, new worlds. Poetry has become my companion; it suits my disposition.
Dear Michael,
I love how you describe poetry entering your life right in the middle of everything -- not as an escape, but as a way to breathe, to notice, to express what was already living inside you. There's something beautiful about poetry becoming a companion that suits your disposition, especially in a time when so much of your energy was devoted to others. It sounds like writing gave you a small but meaningful space of your own. Thank you for sharing this! XO
Your encouraging words are always appreciated! Thank you, Danielle!
How wise to have connected to poetry in being father, husband, friend, worker. I have come late to this party and am enjoying it immensely.
Thank you, Patty, for your thoughtful and kind comment.
I am 46.. probably close to halfway through this life if all goes very well. I have lived with so much fear of living and have used the skills I grew in childhood to mask that fear. I lead with exuberance, brightness, warmth, and competence, all while holding on very tightly to myself and my breath, very afraid of what might happen if I were to take the world in to myself or move my body towards what I truly desire.
But I feel another way of moving and living is actually possible. The earth is mine to draw from and I have started to bring her in. I have strange and vulnerable art to make in this life and for decades the visions that accompany this creative pull have been blocked by fear and grief—always there was something I needed that I never received and so what I saw in my mind and felt a calling to do in my heart felt completely impossible. But now I’m letting myself explore, like a child, the strange and beautiful things I want to say, the strange and beautiful ways my body moves, the terrifying power of the erotic—I must trust my heart as she guides me out of these wastelands.
What I’m finding here, in this time of life, is astounding: Sovereignty. This feels like my oldest self and youngest self meeting, and touching, and collaborating in the now. They’ve got me.
Jo, I love your phrase 'I have strange and vulnerable art to make in this life' - inspired by Padraig's kind of vulnerability - go for it! "They've got you".
I love this encouragement, Patty!
Jo, I love your use of the word Sovereignty here! That's such a useful way of thinking about this drawing together of self.
YES, I had this same thought.
Thank you for saying so—if it useful for you I wonder if it also happening for you!?
Jo, "the terrifying power of the erotic," yes, exactly, Audre Lorde is smiling somewhere. I cannot wait for what you birth.
I know we’re supposed to live our lives for the satisfaction of our own hearts but i could also imagine living my life in order to make Audre Lorde smile somewhere 🔥🐆
I live 48 minutes from Elkhart, so my midway point to that journey is 24 minutes. I turn 70 on Bastille Day so my midway point to this point in life is 35, but what is the midpoint to life’s journey if I haven’t yet arrived at the endpoint? And I get the sense I never will.
*
My guide-companion on my journey is my teleological soul. Another faithful companion, our flat-coated retriever, will surely enjoy my birthday party more than I, because all celebrations with cake and candle are especially for him. He will leap on people’s laps, knowing there will be cake and a gift for him. We never want to sing the Birthday Song in front of Max except on someone's birthday, because we don't want to desensitize him. Even humming the song excites him to frenzy. July 14 will be our next witness to the miracle of levitation.
*
Three Score and Ten
*
the moments march
processing through time
drawn forward
toward inevitability
not by fate or accident
but by meaning’s order
*
this birthday shares its song
its notes resonating
along the cord
that binds sun and stars and soul
each note a self-contained chord
each chord composing an unfinished symphony
improvised across a lifetime
changing
not as revolution’s
abrupt volcanic eruption
but as seismic shift
through the slow evolution
of charted constellations
in unmapped consciousness
Michael, it made me smile reading about the effects that the birthday song has on your pooch Max!
Monica, Max makes us smile too. He is so special to our family, just as so many four-legged members are to their own families. We are on the verge of bringing a stray cat into the house. That should make an exciting dynamic. Especially on birthdays!
You made me laugh - even humming the song!!!
Patty - It’s funny how Max’s IQ doubles in situations that benefit him. He picks up on the slightest hints of food, affection, walks, and car rides. He knows all the preconditions and mini steps leading to those scenarios.
Perhaps a little reminder to us to pay attention to the good things in life. Theologian Matt Fox had a much beloved dog he called his spiritual advisor, who anchored him in the Now. Give Max a scratch for me.
Ok. And I’ll be sure to tell him it’s from you. I’m hoping kitty cat doesn’t give him a less friendly scratch.
14 years ago I met my best friend of the last 14 years.
We were desk partners in a Year 8 Latin class, and - ever the jocks - worked a few chapters ahead. So Mrs Connolly presented us with a Latin translation of the Emperor's New Clothes (such a thing exists) and told us to have at it for the rest of term.
We had at it, sparking a joint love affair with the Classics (we ended up learning Ancient Greek together the following year) and, well, just a joint love affair. As it happens, it was his birthday yesterday, and we had a delightful party at his family home. I owe Mrs Connolly (and that vainglorious emperor) a debt of gratitude!
Dan,
Long live wonderful teachers and congratulations on your love of language and of LIFE.
Midlife has always seemed
to be a password to crisis.
Poet Padraig reintroduces it
as an introduction,
his special gift, to introduce us
to a poet, a poem. a life changing disease,
a ferry,
a question,
a moving point as the end point keeps moving.
A question he shares with us,
to share with each other.
Elizabeth, what a brilliant, poetic reflection of Padraig's words today. How absolutely blessed to receive these precious insights and invitations. The are modeled with his own growing awareness and vulnerability, so they invite the same in us.
Mid-life today puts me at 39. Opened up a picture framing shop. Truly enjoyed creating nests and homes for other people’s visual treasures. After two years “discovered” I much preferred creating my own treasures. Began by using picture framing materials to make curious wall pieces. Also, at 39, didn’t even know that I didn’t know, or feel, what loving was all about. Somehow, turning to creating my own treasures put me on a lifelong journey of creative interests and learning about loving. Now, at 78, composing music, and marvelling, and challenged by the complexities of this dance between self-love and other love, O’ heart and mind be thee together, be still, be companions, be of one vision. 🏮
Beautiful and yes, this: " O’ heart and mind be thee together, be still, be companions, be of one vision."
Half way through life, now 76, I never knew how it would feel to have become — just as you express so beautifully, David—a kind of living prayer that my heart for what I am able to express through writing and music, and my mind full of consistently perplexed attempts at understanding others might come together to soften the inherent conflicts: to be as passionate, as sure and all-encompassing as the song of Padraig’s wren.
In my mid-40s, I found out that someone I had known briefly but impactfully in college in the 1990s had died. We had been born just a week apart and were both lonely outsiders at the time we met. His passing hit in a way I hadn’t expected, as I hadn’t seen him in literally decades. Looking back now, his death was the start of a voyage back to myself that I am still navigating. And he has been my companion through that – reminding me of the potential I possessed at the time we knew each other but which got mislaid and buried in the intervening years. I wrote a piece about it recently, which is probably a bit too long to post here but you can read it on my own substack page: https://substack.com/@annepender
Anne, no surprise that your connection to this beloved person reawakened as he was leaving this world. I've been awakened in the night when a friend faced a crisis - so I really believe there's a whole other level of connectedness for which we don't have words. Thanks for this intimate, honest sharing. I blame it on Padraig and the quality of self reflection he shares. Aren't we lucky.......
So fascinating to hear you have had a similar experience, Patty. And yes, we are lucky to be inspired by Padraig!
Anne, I’ll bookmark this one. I'm very curious to read your insights.
Midway through my life I found myself broke, homeless, jobless, too far gone from depression and alcohol to do anything but commit suicide. Friends intervened and I got the help I needed. It forced me to ask hard questions: What have I always wanted to do with my life and have been too afraid to try? Or didn’t know how to do? I knew instantly I wanted to get my PhD and be a professor and teach. Within three years I was in a doctoral program and on my way. God is good!
Sharon, you battled a whole army of obstacles......wow. Let's hope your journey can help others as you reach you goal to teach. It's not just the curriculum, it's the life lessons that go along with it that can make a difference for students. And blessings on those good good friends who intervened.
I moved from my hometown to NYC. It was my rebirth — the kind that would happen again and again.
My other self accompanied me. The one who was braver than me. She didn’t second guess. She walked me through curiosity, excitement, and uncertainty.
For the first time, I had no other commitments but to myself. No family script. Just me, and her, in a walk-up on Bloomfield Street.
Looking back now, I see I wasn’t leaving. Driving east with books and art supplies in the trunk, I was actually arriving.
She reminds me: you’ve done this before. You can do it again, in smaller ways, every day.
Throughout the span of my years, there was a door. And my other self held it open.
Jennifer, admiration from a fellow New Yorker, for the art supplies in the trunk. Your other self reminds me of Padraig's refrain: "Hello" to Jennifer's confident and curious Other Self.
Patty, your words landed deep. “Hello” to the Other Self — thank you for seeing her. Truth is, I’ve been wishing she’d merge with the more vulnerable part of me and take the lead again. Your comment felt like her tapping me on the shoulder. Hello back to you, with so much gratitude.