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May 15, 2022Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley

Like Suleika's mom, mine taught me the art and joy of people watching and imagining their lives. I think in retrospect, Mom was teaching me that everyone has a story and that if we embrace that, our hearts can soften...and so mine does. Lindsay, loved your prompt and here is my response: Some years ago, when I was teaching 4-year olds in public Pre-K, I had a new student and through "the grapevine" (every school has one) I found out that the father had recently been released from jail, and the mother, recently put in. My knee jerk internal reaction was to dread our first encounter...but then I remembered "Everyone has a story-embrace and let your heart soften". The next morning (the child's first day of school) there he stood, holding his dad's hand. Dad was highly tattooed, a look of defiance but behind those eyes there was the pain and worry of every parent, releasing their child to a total stranger. I walked up to them with broad smile that came from a place so deep and wonderful inside me, put my hand out to the dad who gingerly put his out in return. I held his and told him that I would love and care for his child and along with that, would help him develop the beautiful gifts he had uniquely to offer this world. I then said to the dad, "I look forward to also seeing you every morning and afternoon. Isn't it wonderful that our paths have crossed". The dad looked slightly perplexed but was there every afternoon and morning. One morning, he (the dad) greeted me with a smile, that I imagine he had had buried long ago...we embraced warmly in a spontaneous hug and he thanked me for making him and his son feel so welcome. Isn't that what we all want? To feel welcomed from the heart? From that day forward, we hugged each morning...different staff members asked me if I wasn't afraid of him, beings that he had been to jail. I felt no fear and told them so...and shared the lessons my mom had shared with me so many years before. Everyone has a story.

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These early Sunday mornings have become a time to wade into other peoples lives, to take in the happenings being shared. A weekly occurrence, if you will, ever since I discovered Suleika‘s work, the work born of her life’s experience. these Sunday mornings have also become an opportunity and a prompt to reflect on my life; on the things that are brought to the fore of what I’ve read. 

Friday the 13th 2022, with mercury in retrograde, I had an opportunity to do some thing I had always wanted to do: “make a party“ that was at once classy, fun, and spared no expense. The party, In the form of a dinner, was for One of my closest and dearest friends, a person who I met when I first moved to Massachusetts 12 years ago. To celebrate his retirement and move to Florida at the end of the month. I picked a lovely restaurant that happened to be across from the ocean, invited the people that would mean the most to him, created a menu with the restaurant owner, and waited for the party to happen. 

It was amazing to see what could happen when one provides the setting for people to break bread, have drinks, and celebrate another human being. It was such a lovely setting, the flowers I brought blending so well with the lovely and delicate flower settings that the restaurant provided. The weather was clear and warm, sunny, and the ocean providing a lovely background. In one word, gracious. What fun to be a hostess at a party that I could afford to “do it right, classy” as my friend Robert had taught me.  Put another way, he would tell me, “don’t do it if you can’t afford to have it be classy.” Whatever that means.

As I reread my post, I’m thinking, “sounds frivolous” against the background of what manypeople are experiencing, Including myself. However, it is in fact in the same vein as The topic of Suleika‘s post today. Today is my 72nd birthday, and the experience of giving the party was one that I had always wanted to give myself. I hosted 18 people at a restaurant dinner celebrating the life of another.  without ulterior motive. Happy birthday to me!



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May 15, 2022Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley

Suleika's recounting of her mother & their stories created brings me back so quickly to the walks after dinner through my childhood neighborhood after dark, when we could see the households interiors brightly lit. Oh the stories we made up about the rooms we saw! And then I'm reminded of whenever my family would go out to dinner (which wasn't often), as we waited for food my sister & I eavesdropping on the surrounding tables and making up their whole life stoires. I do this on my own now and it's a spark of a story to write.

The story I've recently decided to explore is what my 82 year old mother's plans were when she arrived back home from her 6 month stay in Mexico (to paint, uninterupted by life, not knowing the language or driving a car). She had a massive stroke after going through customs in Dallas and boarding the plane with the elderly first, heading home to Rhode Island...the woman next to her alerted the attendants and she was taken to a hospital where we all (siblings from 3 states) flew in to spend the last few days with her as she lay in a coma. I have her unstretched canvas' that were her last works and all the ceramic mobiles that she intended for my kids. These past 25 years it's never occurred to me to imagine 'what if' she made it to Boston to have dinner with my sister and then down to RI to her home near me? What were her plans? My friend who was her chiropractor always said "She's the only 80 year old patient I have who has so many future plans!" So now I've started to write stories about what those plans may have been. It's a fun way to keep her exploring the world. So it's not exactly the 'secret life of strangers', it's my mom's life after 82.

I do love these Sunday prompts and all the comments, they really focus me back into self as the 100 day project does also. thank you so much!

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founding
May 15, 2022Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley

Sunday ritual: Lee and I are cozied up in our favourite stuffed chairs, toes touching across the giant footstool, sipping our first freshly ground morning coffee while I read out loud today’s intro and prompt. Now our conversation begins. It is amazing to me that after 53 years of marriage we are still sharing stories from our personal past that we have not heard before. TIJ prompts always lead us to new places. Thresholds to deeper understandings. Yes, and we are 🎶...Still Crazy after all these years...🎶 ❤️🎶

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I had a portal experience, it was very vivid and it was both a door and a threshold . I was in my 40s, and had just ended another high drama relationship with a man. The breakup was a harsh one, and it was the last emotional place I wanted to be at 40.

I had always wanted kids, but at 40 I was just single. The age of 40 can hit you hard, it’s a reflective age, (and now in hindsight my 40s were my favorite decade).

There was a metaphysical portal, it was very vivid and it was very clear. It was both a door and a threshold. It was beautiful.

I walked through it and vowed not to ever get myself in a high drama relationship again, (my gosh, who has the energy!), and I began to notice wonderful and fun women who didn’t have kids, who became my new role models.

It was so much brighter and lighter on the new side of the portal.

I really believe that portals are real.

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May 15, 2022Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley

The most daunting threshold I’ve ever crossed was walking through the front door of my new foster parents’ house when I was 16 after asking the state to make me a ward of the court so that I could live my life free of abuse and neglect. I could have been bitter by then but I was not. I was curious about everything and everyone. Still. Who knows where that brazen will to live and love and remain open to life comes from. All these years later I am still amazed by my own courage. And the courage of anyone anywhere who chooses to love and remain open to other human beings after experiencing excruciating betrayal.

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May 15, 2022Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley

Dear Susu, I grew up in Bombay and lived in a flat/apartment. Given the apartment density, it was easy to catch a few glances of people in their homes. I always wondered what peoples lives were like, especially women. Typical questions that came with the territory, age, marital status, was the family she married into, good and did they treat her nice as she stands in the kitchen and makes tea? You see, I wanted to escape it all. As a teenage girl in the 90s I wanted to reimagine my future and leave India as quickly as possible on my own because what I saw were two options for women - marriage/wife/babies/in laws or spinster and being perceived as a difficult woman who chose education/travel/friends. Each time I sat by the beach and saw a woman pass by, I wondered the same question. I had seen so many girls change as their marriages were being set by their parents and was really afraid that I did not want to lose myself. It’s different now and I did manage to leave by myself when I was 18 and start a life in Boston. I now live in SF and when I go to the Ferry Building, I love people watching as I let my imagination run wild and make up beautiful stories in my head about the lovely people around me. Stay well. I am about to finish your book. It has meant the world to me as I can better understand the challenges of a friend whose breast cancer has been deemed incurable. Sending you love and positive vibes. Your pajama sister in solidarity.

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May 15, 2022·edited May 15, 2022Liked by Suleika Jaouad

I too am seeing he world through new eyes. I am losing my hair after chemotherapy-priming for my own stem cell transplant. I joked to my husband and some friends that the Cleveland Clinic Wellness Retreat obviously had a spa with free Brazilians as part of the package deal. In the shower, clumps wash out from my head, stick to my skin and slip into my mouth.

I’ve already shorn my hair in preparation for this day, and fully expected its falling out. I felt no grief then; neither do I feel any now as my buzz cut makes way for Cytoxan-induced alopecia. What I feel is only compassion for all the people like me who are mourning losses right now. Their hair. Their identity. Their sense of security in tomorrow. And instead of the usual judgement, I feel self-compassion as well.

Suleika and the Isolation Journals inspired me to start my own blog; it’s been a blessing to return to writing. I hope it’s not inappropriate to share here: https://norriserin.wixsite.com/callofthevoidblog

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May 15, 2022·edited May 15, 2022Liked by Suleika Jaouad

The third time I was "saved by Jesus" was definitely a threshold, because - just like the other two times - it didn't stick. No matter how hard I tried, I had a Teflon response to Evangelical communities. Forty years later I can laugh, knowing that the science-bent to my brain demands logic, and most faith paths (especially the Evangelical path) are not logical at all.

How delightful it was to later learn that the story of Noah and the Ark was lifted from the much more ancient Epic of Gilgamesh; that Revelations may very well be a mushroom-inspired dream sequence; that the Council of Ephesus (which shaped the modern Bible), was a political slug-fest with conniving that would have made Mitch McConnell blush.

Now I can see the world through amused, more compassionate eyes. Humanity is a brawling, thug of a thing with all sorts of flowers, stars and rainbows bursting forth to astonish us and give us hope. Suleika is doing penance for pissiness on a pant-less Friday -- and this turns into an exercise in reflection. I don't cook with Teflon, but I'm glad it exists. It helped me learn something about myself.

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May 15, 2022·edited May 15, 2022Liked by Suleika Jaouad

I crossed the threshold of graduating from my master’s program in 2013. It suuuuuuucked. I had a nervous breakdown (my words, not my therapist’s) because my imposter syndrome was all-encompassing. I felt stupid, inarticulate, and frustratingly unprepared by my education to embark on my new career. After three years of constant studying, competitive internships, and stress I felt that I didn't even want to do the job.

But the next step was a year-long fellowship before I could receive my license to practice. I was at least going to finish the process before deciding to give up. I took a job in a rural town -the anonymity was comforting- in which I made a million mistakes in diagnosing and treating children with communication disorders. I was lost and cried daily. My assigned mentor and clinical supervisor often responded to my requests for guidance with sighs, head nods and the words, “It’s so hard. It’s just so hard,” but not much else.

I feel bad for the children I worked with that year. They deserved better. But, I persevered and eventually figured out how to be competent in my career. Actually, I’d say I even got pretty good. I took a job closer to home and have had so much fun over the years working with students with disabilities.

That threshold was a tough one to pass through. What helped was the realization that I needed to focus on the integrity of my actions instead of my inner critic. Rather than agonize over my perceived incompetencies and worrying about what people thought of me, I learned to suck it up, get comfortable with being vulnerable (isn’t Brene Brown great?), and do what I thought was best for the kids.

I’m “retired” from my speech-pathology job now because of health issues. But I feel I’m a little more empathetic and grounded from the work I use to do.

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May 15, 2022Liked by Suleika Jaouad

My Friday the 13th with Mercury in Retrograde was the culmination of two very difficult weeks and it involved writing a letter to my best friend of over 15 years, downgrading our friendship to just a friendship, and not a special one anymore. I had thought of and written those words in my head so many times, but time has come to let go. He apologized for not being the friend I needed right now, and I feel relieved to have let go of him as someone in my close circle who kept on not showing up or disappointing me. I hope we can find a way to a better friendship going forward, one that is more balanced. It was hard to let go, but I feel the relief from it too. The song from Ben Harper (Walk Away) closed my letter “but sometimes, sometimes you just have to walk away”. People rarely talk about how hard it is to let go of a friend and the profound heartbreak it causes.

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May 15, 2022Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley

Coincidentally, there's a scene in my first chapter where the main character observes two strangers and makes up their back-stories! 😊 I'm always people-watching in real life too. As for a Friday the 13th/Mercury Retrograde experience, at 3am on Saturday, the fire alarms in the building went off. My partner, step-kids, and I evacuated (after pretty much stuffing the cat into his carrier). Turns out, our former apartment, on the other side of the building, was the cause of the (mild) fire. Once it was safe to go back inside, one of the neighbours joked, "See you all next fire alarm!" Everyone has been so isolated due to the pandemic, and in the future, I'd like to get to know the neighbours better. It's been a lot of people-watching and making up stories!

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May 15, 2022Liked by Suleika Jaouad

My adult daughter and I have had a fraught relationship, sometimes (I think) the result of being so much alike that we sometimes clash at our hard edges. It can be difficult to listen with an open mind, to soften up and mesh, even in areas where we know that we are in intellectual agreement.

And yet, here she came across the miles on Friday May 13th - braving Covid and other less than perfect conditions - for a shared long weekend planned purposefully to accomplish tasks necessary to prepare for a family member's wedding. And what a joyous surprise to find ourselves having fun together, working side-by-side in a shared mental and physical space. I have not laughed so much in years and the time has flown by. An unexpected and welcome outcome.

Meanwhile, I am imagining you, Suleika, trying to turn one of those PJ tops into serviceable bottoms. I am glad you are well enough to see the humor in this tale, to amuse us at your own expense, albeit somewhat ruefully. Wishing all the best for you in continued recovery.

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May 15, 2022Liked by Suleika Jaouad

Adopting as a single parent was very uncommon in 1978. Truly, I had no idea and having lost my mother at the age of 6-improvised. The transition was tremendous and unexpected.

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May 15, 2022Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley

There are many doorways in a life, but not all doorways are thresholds. A threshold holds the liminal space of the left behind and the about to be. With the most important thresholds there are people to usher us across. Shirley Harris turned the doors of Fox Elementary School into a threshold for me in 1989. When my now husband asked me to marry him, I came to Richmond and took a tour of Fox. It was a second marriage and I needed to find the right public school for my young sons. The principal took me Rm. 116, which was Shirley’s classroom. Shirley was sitting at a piano and her second graders sang with her. There was an easel with fresh paint and artwork everywhere. Child-created bulletin boards curated all they were learning. This was a community of readers, writers, and artists. Her chair was at a large square table with theirs. The children looked at her with rapt attention and love. I was mesmerized. I knew how lucky they were to have her as a teacher. A little over a year later, my son was lucky enough be in her class and I was lucky enough to have her as a friend. Two years later I’d joined the staff and we taught across the hall from one another. We joined efforts whenever we could. One year we had a frontier party. The children made hobby horses and came dressed as pioneers. I told folktales and then Mrs. Harris played the piano and sang folk songs from the frontier while 50 children sang and rode those hobby horses around the room. As her hands moved effortlessly across the keyboard-- she looked over at me and shouted above their singing, “Sometimes you just have to let go and see what happens!” There was incredible joy. It’s true! Sometimes you DO need to let go and see what happens. That is just one lesson I learned from Shirley. She ushered me across that threshold and taught me the most important lesson I would learn as a teacher. The door to the classroom is a sacred threshold-- going in and going out-- the classroom door can (and should) be both invitation and threshold to next.

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May 15, 2022Liked by Suleika Jaouad

I very much appreciate these threshold comments! I’ve had a few and realised I had to process them and usually used writing. These comments remind be that everyone has them and gets changed, whether they or I consider this! It is compassion to see my own complexity and that of all other creatures! Including dogs that bark at me and scare me!

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