Take Your Heart in Your Hands

In the nonstopness I become lost, an automaton in sync with my ticking schedule of engagements. I detect a prideful pleasure as I arrive on the dot more often than not. I think it falls in the category of obsession with the game of Dots on my cell phone. Something to rein in the revved up mind while sitting, waiting, in-between.

Waking up exhausted on Friday after weeks of juggling duties and demands as if I were still young, I was at first taken aback to learn I'd been exposed (in close quarters over several hours - not what you think ) to COVID, but then, grateful for the unexpected stop.

This weekend of isolation has given me room to reflect on how I got where I am, and what these complex times are calling for. Here is a brief view into a heady time in my life, when I put my hand on the pulse of a community, city, and planet, and worked with others to find creative solutions...

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WHEN I WAS STILL YOUNG

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I'm not a political person per se, whatever that is, but I do care about doing right by the universe - putting my money where my mouth is, living lightly on the earth, practicing "right livelihood" which means doing work that matches my values. Sometimes people join my efforts, adding layers, richness to the original intent. For example, when I arrived in New Orleans in 1985, on an extended escape from California, I knew - finally - I was somewhere I could make a difference. I found home there, not evacuating the sinking city for good till 2018.

About 9 years in (around the time people stopped exclaiming "You ain't from here dawlin'"), after embracing then abandoning late night bars and music, getting married to the bartender I met at work (Tipitina's), husband joining AA, child born, graduate school completed, and unfulfilled at my health department job, I started an environmental nonprofit.

With a small grant, an artist friend and I rented the abandoned Goldseal Dairy in our Mid-City neighborhood. The cavernous concrete structure with big openings on the ends - air blown through with industrial fans - also featured an enormous weed-filled yard carved from the purloined backyards of surrounding homes (the dairy owners being avaricious landlords).

The fine summer Saturday we opened, after months of preparation and promotion - our motley board of directors and high school environmental club volunteers ready to accept used cans of latex paint - we were overrun with neighborhood children delighted to have access to the previously padlocked behemoth.

Paint poured in along with children, and our recycling program was underway. The first unexpected and unsanctioned re-use activity was already occurring - the Ben Franklin Green Club discovered stacks of terracotta flowerpots in the yard - and, with my friend the artist, engaged the children in painting pots.

My young son was not there that day, but he spent many hours at the project as it evolved during my four years as director. He and my friends' children would make art and play games in what became a sprawling garden.

The nonprofit grew and expanded from paint recycling, to summer art camps, to community gardening, to a stand at the Saturday farmer's market, to gardens for schools, to collection of building materials, to creative re-use competitions. It kept going and growing, outlasting my leadership as well as my marriage, which gradually dissolved as I followed my path and my husband, his.

To this day - though in a different location - the project thrives, providing paint, building materials, and environmental education to the people of New Orleans. I have begun other projects since, but none so dear to my heart.

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THE PRESENT MOMENT

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Fast forward through a second marriage, a hurricane, a restaurant, another divorce, and I find myself settled in San Antonio near my boy who is now 34.

My life has been eventful, rich, awkward, painful, full of love and passion. And yet, the multitude of moments - now memories - have rushed on by like the windows of a moving train.

This weekend in quarantine I have slowed down, tending to household tasks, recycling obsolete documents, keeping my old dog company. Reading. Writing. Meditating.

Taking my heart in my hands.

First and third images courtesy of Pinterest

Second image (photo of heart mural on wall) is by the author.