Tag: life

The God of Doors

One of my late father-in-law’s favorite sayings was: There’s always the unexpected. No matter how carefully our plans are laid out, or how much we might want a particular thing to happen, or not, the possibility that something unforeseen will derail our wishes is ever-present. Most people, including me, find this fact unsettling. Knowing what’s likely to happen in a given situation is comforting, while change, even when expected, often provokes fear and uncertainty.
 
But change can also bring fortune to those who choose to embrace it. Losing a predictable but dead-end job creates an opportunity to land a better role at a different company, or perhaps to change careers or start a business. Ending an unhappy relationship with a spouse or partner makes it possible to start over again with someone new. 
 
Anyone familiar with tarot cards knows that the Death card, which depicts the Grim Reaper riding a horse over the deceased body of a king, rarely implies physical death. When this card shows up in a reading, it usually signifies a significant and often abrupt ending of some kind. This change will likely be difficult, but will hopefully foster the self-awareness needed to pull oneself together and start again, armed with wisdom gained from experience. The king on the card implies that no one is exempt from Death’s whims: It’s far better to roll with the punches and learn how to regroup than to wallow in self-pity.
 
The ancient Roman god, Janus, has two faces. One looks forward into the future, the other, backward toward the past. He is the god of beginnings and endings, the god of change. Janus rules thresholds, gates, and doorways. He is present when someone is born, when someone dies, and during transitional events, such as weddings and graduations. The month of January is named for him.
 
Janus was the only Roman god without a Greek counterpart. And to the Romans, he was the most powerful god of all. He was fate’s doorkeeper, and they did everything in their power to gain his favor. On New Year’s Day, the Romans were careful not to say anything derogatory about another person. They offered sweets and gifts of coins to strangers, abstained from foul language, and performed good deeds in hope of creating conditions that would encourage luck and prosperity in the coming year.
 
Change has been rampant and unforgiving over the last several years. The COVID-19 pandemic was the most significant interrupter in modern times, upending jobs and marriages, travel plans, and the trajectory of nearly everyone’s lives. Currently, we in the United States are living with an unprecedented amount of uncertainty, never knowing what the fascist regime that controls our government will do from one day to the next, or how its whims will affect our lives.

In September 2020, my mother died after losing a short but brutal battle with lung cancer. In 2021, my adult daughter moved out of the house into a home of her own. Over a four-month period in 2022, I lost three of my close friends to cancer as well. My father-in-law died suddenly of heart failure in 2023.
 
These events have been heartbreaking and difficult, but most of them have led to positive new beginnings. After losing so many people to cancer, I have made it a priority to take better care of myself physically and mentally. I make time to do things I enjoy. I have been trying to socialize and travel more often, and have given up caring about anyone else’s opinions about what I do or don’t do. My relationship with my daughter has evolved and grown stronger, and after years of mourning my mother, my stepfather is now in a relationship with a wonderful woman who is a perfect fit for him.
 
We’re entering Janus’ season. In just a few short weeks, 2025 will be over. There’s no way of knowing what will happen in the year to come, but here’s to hoping the God of Doors will look upon all of us with kindness.

ENP

Summertime Magic

I still remember the satisfying feeling brought on by cleaning all the papers out of my desk and tossing them directly into the trash on the last day of school — no need to so much as glance at any of them. The day’s rising heat brought with it the promise of beach days, long, lazy afternoons punctuated by grape Popsicles, and running leaps through the backyard sprinkler. 

Summer meant visits from the neighborhood ice cream truck, rainbow-colored snow cones, and clusters of sweaty kids clutching damp dollar bills. My sister and I raced around the neighborhood on our bikes (no helmets! no shoes!), completely disregarded all advice regarding sunscreen, and stayed up well past our bedtime every night waiting for the sun to finally go down. Everything we did seemed to have an aura of magic to it.

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about that magic and how I might try to recapture some of it.

When I was growing up, my friends and I were fully present during our summer vacations, no matter what we were doing. We weren’t thinking about all the chores we were supposed to do or that school was starting soon. Whether we were playing kickball with the neighborhood kids, making Italian ice runs to the corner store, or just hanging out on the porch trying to keep cool, that time was ours. We weren’t going to let anyone or anything take it away from us.

It’s rare these days to have any amount of time that’s truly our own. We’re accessible 24/7 on our phones. Our attention is constantly being drawn in ten directions at once by television monitors, emails, the daily news cycle. We’re always worried about the state of our country, the possibility of war, corrupt, evil politicians, the bills we have to pay, the kind of world we’ll leave behind for our kids.

All of those things are pressing, but they’re not going away, at least not anytime soon.

Summer is fleeting. It’s time we took all took a step back and carved out some time to enjoy the smell of freshly cut grass, the way the air smells when a sudden rainstorm hits the hot pavement. We can count the fireflies as they hover and flash on summer nights, and wake up early to hear the songs of morning birds.

We can dig holes in the sand and eat ice cream cones, read novels, stare at the sky, turn the music up loud in the car. We can do whatever we want if we let ourselves, even if it’s just for an hour or a lunch break or between phone calls. It doesn’t even need to cost anything.

The magic is still out there. Go and find it.

ENP

Redefining Success: Beyond Income and Wealth

In the contemporary United States, a person’s success is most often measured by their income.

While the size of someone’s paycheck often correlates with other types of achievement, such as educational attainment, it says nothing about a person’s character or whether the things they do on a regular basis have the potential to improve lives or make the world a safer, healthier, more beautiful, or more just place.

Income on its own says nothing about a person’s happiness. It cannot tell us whether someone looks forward to getting up in the morning or whether they face each day with a measure of dread. The size of one’s bank account does not indicate whether its owner is living in a way that supports his or her values, interests, talents, and wellbeing, whether they are able to do the things they enjoy, or how their lifestyle affects their interpersonal relationships, the environment, or their community as a whole.

Money is necessary to pay for our housing and necessities, to take care of our loved ones, and to do many of the things we enjoy. But after these requirements are comfortably met, is accumulating more wealth worthwhile if it means sacrifcing happiness and meaning in our lives?

Most of the successful people I know are not rich. They don’t own BMWs, yachts, or vacation homes, but neither are they starving. They are nurses, musicians, teachers, firefighters, artists, farmers, photographers, tour guides, chefs, artisans, plumbers, winemakers, carpenters, and writers who wake up every morning enthusiastic to start their days because they get to do something they enjoy, because their work carries meaning and value that surpasses its assessed economic worth. 

Truly successful people nurture their relationships. They have the time and energy to pursue their hobbies and interests, to learn new skills, to visit new places and discover things about the world and themselves. They make time to watch sunsets. They appreciate the beauty in simplicity. Successful people are happy much of the time because they are rewarded by things that are not, and never will be, for sale.

Real success lies somewhere between presence and productivity, security and curiosity. It deflects judgement. To be successful is to continually improve upon one’s knowledge and understanding of the world. Successful people aren’t afraid of hard work. They take pride in the things they do and make, and ask for advice when they need it. They care about the legacies they leave behind.

No one is getting out of here alive. Whether or not their efforts lead to financial gain, those who use their time on this planet wisely, who understand that wealth and achievement are not necessarily one in the same, will always be the most successful.

ENP

Crossroads

The beginning of 2025 finds my life at a crossroads. I’m very close to finishing my third novel, a project on which I’ve been working for years and desperately want to complete. At the same time, I seem unable to focus on it. My husband was laid off from his job at the end of September, leaving us adrift in a gulf of uncertainty.

Do I sequester myself in some quiet place where I won’t be distracted for a couple of weeks to finish my book? Should I put the book aside for the time being and look for steady nine-to-five work? Or should I try to find more freelance jobs so I can have a flexible schedule and make more money at the same time, allowing me to still work on the novel? If I do this, will I be too tired to work on the book anyway?

Perhaps I should try to bushwhack my own path, combining these options in such a way that I’ll be able to accomplish most of what I want?

I’ve been stuck, waiting for a sign, for some sort of messenger to point the way, getting nothing done in the meantime.

In Western folklore, crossroads often symbolize liminal spaces, places between worlds, middle passages that are neither in one realm nor another. In medieval Europe, the bodies of executed criminals and people who had committed suicide were often buried at crossroads as they were considered a sort of no man’s land, places set apart from the world from which the souls of the dead would be unable to escape.

Lacking a map or any sense of direction, I’ve discovered that exiting a crossroads, where no path is clearly defined, can be almost as difficult for the living.

In many cultures, crossroads are places where demons and spirits appear unexpectedly. In the early 20th century American South, many African Americans believed visiting a crossroads at certain times of day meant encountering the Devil. It brings to mind the frequently covered song, Cross Road Blues, by blues guitar pioneer Robert Johnson, originally released in 1937. According to legend, Johnson, who died mysteriously at age 27, acquired his impressive musical skills after selling his soul to the Devil at a crossroads.

Robert Frost’s famous poem The Road Not Taken, published in 1916, also comes to mind, as crossroads often symbolize indecision, uncertainty, or even regret in literature.

But crossroads can also be places of opportunity. By their nature, they are places where chance meetings are likely to occur, perhaps allowing favorable circumstances to unexpectedly manifest themselves.

Modern psychology says when we find ourselves at a crossroads, unable to decide which direction to take, it often means we are preparing to let go of something to which we are emotionally attached. I often feel this way lately. Whichever direction I choose to go, I’ll be leaving something behind. And because whatever I stand to potentially gain remains undefined, the risk involved in taking any one road seems great.

Robert Frost felt called to take the road “less traveled by,” knowing he’d probably never learn what he might have discovered had he chosen the other path. One of these days, the voice of wisdom will prevail and I’ll know what I should do, too. In the meantime, I’ll be keeping an eye out for the Devil.

ENP