Spinster Tails

As the holidays rush to an end, we face the brightness of 2017, a new year.  Many of us have resolved to be healthier and more productive.  We are eager to slip into the “New You”—fit, wealthy, romantically attached, popular, and still zen.  And we all want that "unique" glow of being as expected, like others, but individual enough to attract attention.

This is too complicated.  What if I don’t want to be the 2017 model?  She looks great, but she's not me.  What if I don’t want the software update?! 

When people tell me how I should be, how happiness looks, and what I must sacrifice for it, I feel silenced.  No one asked my opinion of joy.  Rather, they catapulted me into their frenzy for perfection.  New Year’s Day becomes the Black Friday of self-revision.  We line up for whatever is being sold and trample each other to grab it without asking, “Do I even want this thing?”

This frenzy to be other than oneself reminds me of Disney’s The Little Mermaid.  Lessons: never relinquish your voice, keep your fish friends close, and never trust an octopus drag queen.  Ariel, the mermaid princess with the perfect pitch, sees and rescues dark-haired, tan Eric, a human prince and a solid guy.  Her only problem?  She's a fish, and he's a dish. 

Ariel is unmoved by this apparent difficulty.  She is willing to abandon everything--her people, identity, friends, family, trinkets cave, and the lower half of her body--to be with Eric.    In relinquishing all this, she sacrifices her self and cannot connect meaningfully with the man she loves.  She may give Ursula her voice in exchange for legs, but she reaches the shore as a shell of her self.  Eric admires this silent beauty and maybe loves her, but he longs for the singing Ariel, the one who rescued him from the sea.  Luckily for them, Ariel retrieves her voice and reunites with Eric.  Because it's Disney, it all works out, but in our lives, sacrificing one's identity rarely leads to a healthy relationship.  Maybe Eric would have followed Ariel's voice and reunited with her.  They could have had beach dates, met each others' friends and family, and avoided the whole Ursula drama entirely.  Maybe King Triton would have come around and granted Ariel legs anyway.   

In this blog, I highlight people who sing with their own voices.  They are introspective, courageous, and independent.  Like Ariel, they see what they want and know who they are, but unlike Ariel, they don’t sacrifice that identity to fit another’s plan for perfection. 

Beneath the ads and commercials screaming about the “newer and better you” this year, I hear the hum of people saying, “Welcome, 2017.  This year, I am enough.”  We already have what we need to be joyful.  We shine, and we won't trade ourselves for others' demand's.  If your gifts make you happy, practice them.  If it's lifting weights, growing kale, or reconstructing your kitchen, more power to you.  If it's the little things like baking great brownies, knowing when someone needs a kind word, or assisting the kick for the winning goal, do it.   Keep your fish tail and your voice; swim as you please.  You never know whose admiration you have earned by having the courage to be yourself.

Best wishes,
Super Spinster

Building Something New

Dedicated to Ben for Inspiring me to Share

Dear Friends,

I have good news.  For those who have followed my blog thus far, you know I’ve featured two remarkable women.  First was my sister who, at twenty-five, purchased a home on her own and was brave enough to take her older sister as a tenant.  Second was my friend Alison, a global connoisseur of human experience and proud Detroiter.  Comparing myself to these women seems absurd.  They’re the cool kids I always wanted to be.  But I’ve been told I should take credit where credit is due, so here it is.

Two of my greatest accomplishments of 2016 were passing the Michigan Bar Exam and, just this weekend, against all odds, putting together an end table by myself.

 

Yes! That’s right!  Two long-awaited dreams achieved!    

Had you told me last year that I, the book worm/English major, would before 2016 was out construct an end table on my own, I would have laughed at you.  I am not handy.  I read books about handy people.  I pay and praise them for their work.  But with the aid of elementary directions, I built this fine specimen of furniture.

Building that end table reminded me of the other things I built in 2016—a law school degree, a budding career as an attorney, new and stronger friendships, and a greater appreciation for the lunatics…, I mean, legal professionals.  With these materials, I constructed a new life.  There were the table legs that kept me upright—home-cooked meals, summer fields, my running shoes, and wine on decks with friends.  There was the table top I sawed and sanded and stained over hours of studying.  Then I had the screws that kept everything together—my family, my church, my collie, my friends.  Time tightened these joints and gave me confidence.  A few screws flew loose, but I never promised perfection.  At last, there was the drawer I slid into place holding all my hopes for the finished product.

While I put this life together, I wondered whether the result would collapse or stand.  When the pieces crumbled mid-construction, I wondered, "Who could pick up this mess?" Me, as it turned out.  My network of supporters, the people handing me the tools, believed in me, and when we were unsure we had a few drinks and tried again the next day.  After much patience and effort, what I’d hoped to build was before me, and the rest was memory.

When we examine our dreams, we see the ways they can fall apart before we see what can make them stand.  Our serve us part of the way, and God and our families, friends, and neighbors supply the rest.  There is hope for the finish and joy in the construction.  Whether we build a career, a home, a global network, or an end table, we are the agents of our success.  Let nothing stop us.  All that we need to reach the end is waiting for us. We just have to sit down and start!

Best wishes,

Super Spinster