Here we are on the gorgeous island of Skopelos. Two sisters and two friends finding our own individual path, alone and together.
Early morning. July 5th.
It is beautiful here on the large terrace, facing the Aegean. To my right, a gentle hill is dotted with white houses, topped with terra cotta. The other women are sleeping. Three of us have suffered from the death of a beloved. K whose son died 6 months ago says that this is a place of healing.
I am playing music by an English friend, a musician and composer who has created this piece for relaxation.
There is such peace here and yet, at times, I grow anxious, usually when I think I'm being anti-social or contrary but I'm seeing that most of it is in my own head.
I've just finished a novel called "The Wedding People" that seemed appropriate as I am here for a wedding. The main character is an English Lit professor whose dissertation was on Virginia Woolf. The love of her life leaves her for a younger colleague. Two years later, she decides to kill herself at an expensive resort where unexpectedly and fortunately for her, a wedding is taking place. The inner monologue and outer dialogue is exceptionally good.
At the end, she comes to the conclusion: "She will have to practice saying her full name - all of them will... becoming who you want to be is just like anything else, it takes practice. It requires the belief that one day, you'll wake up and be a natural at it." I ask myself the question: who do I want to become? Someone who doesn't drift, who makes decisions and follow my passions, to become more alive. This will take practice and I cannot do it alone. I need others.
It's curious being with a group of women. We sit and talk, tell our stories, in a group or in pairs. We go to town and eat. We shop. In the afternoon, we go to the sea and walk in the water. The bottom is rocky and the water cold. I hate it and so decide to become an observer. No one cares.
July 8th.
I receive a text from Virginie reminding me that this is our writing morning. We promised each other that we would continue our writing practice even when apart. My sister and I have escaped the wedding guests arriving and are relaxing on another nearby island, Alonissos.
I sit on the small balcony and am swept away again by the sight of the Aegean. I am so fortunate to be here. I have so many lessons to learn, so many judgments to suspend. I am learning to listen harder and be more accepting of others' ways. I don't have to agree. For instance, when I mentioned my cat's name is Fauci. K turned up her nose and said 'not after the doctor' and I said yes. When K opened her mouth to say more (K and H think him evil), I said 'we are not going to discuss this' because I know any amount of discussion will make no difference. When I let go, I am more at peace.
I have had a delicious morning. An omelette in a cafe on the harbour and the discovery of an artsy boutique filled with jewellery and dresses by young Greek designers. I am inspired, also by Helen's son who arrived with his family before Gael and I left. He is the groom, father of two sons and two daughters. His wife is a marvel too. Their happiness fills me. I have another reason to be happy. My eldest son, his beloved Jane, and son Sebastian were just invited to the wedding and are arriving next week!
This reminds me of Naomi Shihab Nye’s poem "So Much Happiness":
It is difficult to know what to do with so much happiness.
With sadness there is something to rub against,
a wound to tend with lotion and cloth.
When the world falls in around you, you have pieces to pick up,
something to hold in your hands, like ticket stubs or change.
But happiness floats.
It doesn’t need you to hold it down.
It doesn’t need anything.
Happiness lands on the roof of the next house, singing,
and disappears when it wants to.
You are happy either way.
I am a holiday-maker, a British term that I love. It is hot hot hot and I am sun-drenched. Gael and I rented a little car as our inexpensive room is too isolated and getting to a beach is dependent on two unreliable buses. My sister is an expert driver, and we drive along roads that are too narrow and find our way to two beaches. The first has an excellent restaurant, modest with great food and the second is gloriously sandy and the water warm. I swim twice! We pay for the luxury of two lounge chairs with umbrellas. House problems are forgotten. I observe families at play, boats sailing at a distance. I look down at my softening flesh and am learning to accept that the firmness of youth has passed. I remain in a body that can still dance. I want to find the beauty in aging as Anne Truitt did.
July 10
We have moved on to the island of Skiathos. Last night we dined at a restaurant where we ate years ago with Rob and Larry. Sweet memories.
