Recognizing Gifts
What is important in a life? How do we know?
Here are some ramblings, written to inspire others to remember to slow down, to access the ability to say yes and to appreciate the gifts on the path. Written too as my way to reflect.
A decision has changed my life. The consequences are such and will never really know what might have been. Where we would I be, how would I feel, how would I be, if I had made the opposite decision?
I do not want to even admit fully the opportunity that was missed. Caring for myself is not beating myself up. It is trusting I did what was best with what I knew at the time.
What is important in a life? How do we know?
Yesterday, while walking in NYC to attend the Transformation Kitchen event, despite the many people and noises and concrete jungle, it felt alive, exciting, filled with so much all at once.
A wedding couple oddly placed, being photographed on a busy street corner as all sorts of people pass by. She with dark brown skin, dressed in a flowing bridal gown that spread along the sidewalk and groom in gray tuxedo. We smiled at each other.
We passed through and marched with the No Kings March for a few blocks. The streets packed and marchers holding all types of signs, chanting declaring, speaking out for justice. Together means everyone, one of the kinder flags read.
As we walked from Grand Central to our event, Pat said to me, you could have been part owner of an apartment in New York. That hit me. I heard it as if for the first time.
The decision. I was given a New York city apartment by my aunt Bep. I did know then just what an incredible gift that was and to consider over time what it might mean for us.
Bep passed in 2016 after some complications due to a surgery.
My brother wanted to sell it. To him, it would be the path to pay off debt.
I agreed to sell. It seemed illogical at the time to keep it. We lived in Connecticut, loved nature and the woods, that we would ever really want to be in New York enough to make it worthwhile.
We did not see the bigger picture and now, even Andy is regretting this. So much going on at that time. We lost our mom in 2017 at 91.
My mom told us that Bep was sad and could do more with her gifts, as if something was wrong.
It painted an odd picture.
Bep’s life to me was exotic in ways and as a hermit. She stayed in her apartment for hours upon hours creating her art on small canvases. She also knew the city very well, having lived there all of her life. She rode the streets on an adult tricycle.
I now have her artwork. It is magnificent, truly brilliant and so deep. She was never interested in showing it much, maybe out of her own fear to express herself and who she was. Creative people sometimes are shy to share, being “different”. Bep had lots of friends and people loved her, saw her uniqueness. I found out more about these friends and her life only after she passed.
She was our favorite and most beloved Aunt. As young children her accents and stories brought us to magical lands and imaginary colorful adventures. Then as we grew, she said it was not as much fun to tell us stories. It felt strange that she was less connected, and now, looking back at that, too, duh, in our teenage selves, we may not have been such pleasant folks to be around.
Her love never wavered. I could call Bep anytime and she’d be there. Bep and I had wonderful talks. She listened fully and gave insightful and wise guidance.
And now, I am reliving in my thoughts the years since that time of transition.
I am imagining my life if I had said yes to that gift. I could have … a home in Greenwich Village. Very small yet has everything one needed. With access to the greatest city on earth.
Who would I be? Joining an improvisation group, drumming at Boy’s Harbor, working and living and experiencing all the moments that would occur in this eclectic land. Accessing cultures and people and organizations and arts and sciences and music and … and ….. and …. Wow. Wow.
How do I become that person who could have been? To have such a life? What to do with that? But to let it go. We did the best we could with what we knew then.
We never will have that beautiful artist’s studio apartment back. It is gone, changed hands and no longer belongs to us or contains Bep’s art supplies and her collections of things she wanted there. Bep’s art supplies and her collections of things she wanted there. Her Marimekko, her genius.
It asks me to trust. The patterns I have developed, we all have them, can shift. What my eyes see each day is not New York City. But the interest in having that type of life is real too.
What does a person do when a decision that feels like such an enormous turning point, was made in haste? I see more clearly now.
Would living in New York have enhanced the ways I can give and be? Perhaps in a huge way. I will never know.
Today, a new day. Be here now. And the ultimate way to live, to have purpose. To serve. Be boldly you.
And so, I move on. Grateful, oh so much to be grateful for.
As co-founder of Walking Mentorship Joao Perre Viana’s title of his book states: Don’t Count the Kimometers, Make The Kilometers Count.
As for Bep’s artwork, I will contact some local galleries, it is worth being shared, for sure.
My Aunt Bep
artist, actress, poet and lifelong New York City and Greenwich Village resident
An awesomely talented, courageous, self-determined woman whose comedic skills brought instant delight.
Her originality, creativity and imagination will be remembered endearingly.
Betty Harmon lived in New York. She was fabric manager for Marimekko. Such a colorful and creative way of being, she brought laughs, vibrancy, wit, wisdom, humor and zany fun to all she did. Words may not adequately describe her incredible presence.
Bep did not just do art, she embodied it.
