How I Love Him!

It has been awhile.

Over a month and I have not written a word much less a post for this blog.

Blame this on the man.

No, no. Not the one I am dating.

Yes, I am officially and exclusively (at least for now) dating someone – a guy who came into my life just after I gave up!

Is it not strange how the Universe works? The moment you surrender, the thing you were seeking the most appears.

The Universe also has this incredible sense of humour. Sometimes I wonder if God is a comedian!

The moment I wrote and declared that I was done with the man-thing and certainly frustrated with the fallacy of the dating scene, not only did the Universe produce someone for me but he came with the same surname as my ex partner!

Yes, it is true – the same surname and born the same month. The silver lining though is that he is a Sagittarian – one of the most compatible signs for an Aquarian (me).

Anyhow, that is not the man who has caused me to not write for a month. Barack Obama is the cause of that.

At first I was all into the woman-thing, in more ways than one, supporting Hillary Clinton. However, my virtual vote swung the more I listened to Obama. The deal was sealed when my current date sent me the full “Yes, We Can,” speech.

Now Robert, yes that is his name, and I are glued to the television every debate and primary night doing our own analysis. Honestly, if there was a way for us to legally vote – we would go down to our neighbours in the South and cast ours.

My reason for being so excited by the idea of Obama really has nothing to do with his African heritage, although the historical significance of it is not lost on me.

I am supporting Obama for the sense of hope; those words and big ideas that make even me at a distance feel the energy of “Yes, We Can.”

Looking back on the trajectory of my life – it is exactly Hope that has taken me this far and that wakes me up every morning. There were days when giving up felt the easiest thing to do but through the Hope of others – what they saw in me – I made it through.

Many are skeptical about this word but the power of Hope is undeniable.

Recently Oprah Winfrey named to her Book Club a title that I bought on sale months ago for Cdn$6.99. “A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life’s Purpose,” by Ekhart Tolle. The book attracted me not because of the obviously devalued tag but I was very familiar with the author’s work, namely his book “The Power of Now.”

The book is not an easy read. The concepts embodied in it most certainly will be scoffed at by many. Actually, nothing that is written in the book is new, however, like Obama’s words of hope and inspiration, this book is an invitation to become the best human beings we can be.

Just over a week ago, I celebrated my 43rd birthday, in the company of close friends. As they ate and drank, I said a silent prayer of thanks for those in the room and those not present who, through their words, their deep sense of hope and their willingness went an extra hundred miles with me. It was on the back of their Hope that I won the struggle to re-create myself.

I also said thanks for Robert who appeared when least expected and who challenges me and who is willing to be challenged to become - as Bishop Spong best describes it – "fully human."

However the Obama’s race for the presidency turns out or however long or short my relationship (it feels wonderfully strange to be using that word in this context) lasts is unimportant.

Every day as I watch him on television, I say thank you God for people like Barrack Obama and my friends who, through their willingness to stand and be counted, are helping to awaken the young, the old and the in-between disenfranchised, marginalized, hurting and disillusioned people – like I once was – to Hope and dream again.

Yes, We Can indeed!

Blessings,

Claudette

Photograph courtesy of Anni’s camera :) Finally, readers get to put a face to the name of my woman-friend who has been beside me through good times and growing times.

DOF 3: Maintaining Your Friendships

Where to start? There is so much to tell!

Driving my tired self over an hour late to work this morning – the day after the first Divas’ Christmas party – I had the story line down pat or so I thought. The voices inside my head were in a chattering mood!

They must know about the party!

You have to tell them the menu and that you cooked almost everything by yourself! What about the fact that you shopped, prepped the dishes, cleaned and decorated (even more) the apartment and laid out a spread over three days?

What about the DOF [Dating Over Forty] series?

Are you not going to tell them that it seems for sure the beautiful, intelligent, sassy woman you saw a couple times and finally got “the information” on also does ‘disappearing acts’?

And what about 'the shrink' who you keep declaring to ‘the boys that “we are just friends,” a statement they simply smirk at every time they see you two together?

Although not as ‘exciting’ as the other stories, you must share about “Divas for Kiva.”

It was -20 degrees and over 10 centimeters of snow was on the ground already with more coming down, making my ‘already very late’ drive to work that more dangerous. However, all that was on my ‘mind-screen’ was, as they call it in the media and advertising world, the ‘copy’ and headline of this post.

DOF 3: Maintaining Your Friendships

The title seems boring but it is one of the most important piece of advice that I wish someone had told me when I started dating “back in the day.” It is also the best piece of advice that I could ever share on this blog.

The Party

The Divas’ Party was a success! A flaming success I should say based on the comments and feedback about the food, my apartment, how well behaved Angello was since his sexual encounter, the games, the music and the cause.

Not everyone that I invited came. And that is to be expected at any event. Except for one of my boys who had to stay home to nurse his sick pup and a woman who changed my life’s path a few years ago, the absences, however, spoke volumes.

The food and the drinks were all Caribbean – well aside from the cheese board. Almost every Jamaican favourite you either know or every heard of was served.

I shopped and slaved over the stove for three days to ensure that my guests had the best my country of birth has to offer:
1. Ackee & Saltfish Tarts
2. Jamaica Beef Patties
3. Peppered Shrimp (better that how they make it in St. Elizabeth!)
4. Jamaican-style Vegetable Salad (with our version of vinaigrette)
5. Oxtail and Butter Beans
6. Curried Goat (and it was a ram because I could smell it!)
7. Ham (dressed with pineapples and cherries)
8. Rice & Peas
9. Escoveitched Fish
10. Fried Plaintains
11. Jamaica Christmas Cake with rum sauce

As for the drinks, hardly a drinker I did the Caribbean proud and made Pina Colada, Brown Cow (with Tia Maria of course), Rum Punch (with Jamaican Overproof White Rum!) and Sorrel.

If I may say so myself, the apartment was beautiful and as my woman-friend Anni gushed “it has a wonderful, warm feeling and energy...you have created a superb environment, Claudette.” And she was not drunk yet!

My fire place is actually fire engine red and it formed the backdrop of a very cozy and intimate setting – perfect for the most wonderful group of people I have ever had the privilege to journey alongside.

A Hint to Point #7

Which brings me to Point #7 of the DOF series – and in true Jamaican style – my advice is “nuh dash wey yuh friends fi nobody!” I will translate in a moment.

Years ago – it feels more like eons ago – as a student in the former Soviet Union I found that among my fellow country people there were few of us who really spoke the Russian very well. Lance and I were counted in that group. The reason this was so is that we never clung to the very small Jamaican community but stretched ourselves and made very good friends with our hosts.

Another thought that comes to mind is a recollection of something that the woman in the Canadian High Commission who handled our immigration papers said. It was a reminder of my ‘Russian years'. “Do not isolate yourself, it will take longer for you to truly settle if you do,” she advised.

I personally took that to heart and from day one started making friends – using that word loosely.


How to Make and Keep True Friends

After finding a place to live, unpacking, re-packing to move house again and unpacking there, it was I who found us – no let me correct that – it was I who found a church home for myself. It was one that my ex partner and daughter would occasionally visit, usually at my begging and pleading.

I volunteered with several organizations, joined community groups, was selected chair for a social justice committee at the college where I was pursuing my second Master degree, I went to seminars, political-type meetings etc. All of this between trying to make an decent living.

There is a popular or once popular phrase here – “I am Canadian,” and I walked (and continue to walk) that talk – daily and in my own style by meeting people, bringing them home, feeding them, ‘struggling or fighting’ with them or on their behalf, comforting or simply listening to them.

The Break-Up and the Break-Down

It was not until ‘the break up’ last year that I realized the impact of my actions.

With my feet over my head and my mind literally and metaphorically falling to pieces – some of these same people encircled and held me and rocked me as I wept.

Five, one with whom I can no longer physically journey, literally stopped me from killing myself. Anni I thank you – pissed as I was then, I now publicly thank you for calling the cops on me.

Then there was my dear senior citizen, Miss I, who scooped me out of a closet (literally) and took me to the doctor.

Marlene is another woman-friend I made here - one who I met a few months before my feet were swinging above my head in Toronto at a conference.

This is a funny story – she is Jamaican-Canadian and had seen my picture and a write up about me in a conference magazine and sought me out. We spent only a few hours together – maybe a day a most – but when she heard about my dilemma last year, at her expense, she jumped on a plane from Toronto to Edmonton and spent three (boring for her) weeks – cooking and coaxing me to eat.

There were the ones who are thousands of miles away but continued to be a part of my life. Zacca, Patti and Dr. Green – three phenomenal women who from a distance helped to nurture me back to wholeness.

One took care of my mother as I was lost in the wilderness, the other two stayed on the phone with me, for hours on end, when I thought I could not live one more day.

Another Jamaican-Canadian, Miss W in Toronto, is the woman-friend that I wanted to smack for reminding me about my bit of profundity about being in relationship with a woman. She was a rock of wisdom on which I would sit frequently.

Abigail – who most readers to now knew as “A” – is both my daughter and my friend. We have had our ups and downs. She has had her challenges with – as she was told by society – my lifestyle.

A more strong or courageous young woman I have never met. She has a mind of her own –and the panache to say, "Mummy, let’s move on,” without words. Yes – she does call me Mummy, even at 20!

My Boys

And last but not least – and I am sure there are people I have failed to mention but certainly have not forgotten their kindness – my boys.

How do I explain this group of men? How do I describe the love, nurture and care that I have received from a group of men (including Lance) that the wider society – both near and far – would scorn? Where do I start to express my deep love and gratitude to this group of culturally diverse men who have adopted me not only as their fag hag but as sister?

It struck me some time ago that it was the men of the LGBTQ community that I have identified with since being in Edmonton who rallied around me. The lesbians paid their ‘visits’ but left with hardly a glance backwards but the men, ‘my boys’, pitched tents in my life and quietly encouraged and cheered me back to wholeness.

Better than Money

What does any of this have to do with Diva Christmas parties, food and dating? Everything!

Last night, we paused for a few minutes at my request. I had something to say and things to give.

What I had to say was “thank you” to my friends for being my friends and for coming into my life and being brave to 'become even more human’ alongside me. I wanted to thank ‘the shrink’ for staying in my life – even though “we are just friends” ( I can hear the boys laughing as they read this).

During my numerous shopping expeditions for this party, I bought gift bags and filled them with ‘little stuff’ – nothing expensive. The party, the fact that it was the first, these party gifts and the hours it took me to cook were all part of my way of saying how thankful I am that these people – both present and excused – are a part of my life and journey.

Without them, I would either be dead or in a psych ward somewhere, and this is not b....ing, just a statement of fact, where my ex’s “exclusive” friend and probably lover told me in December 2006 that I should be.

It was literally because of my woman-friend, D Mc, the one who changed my life the minute I laid eyes on her and the person who is responsible for me serving at a prison today, that I ‘flew’ the coop of the psych ward.

She, and all of my friends, rescued me from a fate untold.

I see the "hands of God" in all of this as all these friends are wounded healers! Each one, including my daughter, has been, for one reason or another, criticized, judged and ruled ‘unworthy’ by others.

The Translation

That phrase, “nuh dash wey yuh friends fi nobody,” means do not throw (or abandon) your true friends – the ones who have stood the test of time and/or trial – for anyone, especially not for a lover (however you understand that word).

Many will come into your dating experience who will have much to say about your friends…run from them!

I did.

Over the last few months of dating, I have been told how unhealthy or unwise it is to:
 have the types of friendships that I have
 to cherish and go 100 extra miles with and for my friends
 to be with gay men so much

That list could go on.

There is another wonderful Jamaican saying – “Good friends, better than pocket money,” – over the last year I have proven that.

Had it not been for these people who I have named and the unnamed ones – no amount of money would or could have brought me to the place where I can testify, yes testify, that “by the Grace of God who appeared as these angels – I am well!” Thank you God! Thank you my friends!

A special thanks to Mark and Mark (yes, they are a couple and their names are/is Mark) for their Cdn$60.00 donation that will go to sponsor two persons at Kiva!


Blessings and in deep gratitude,

Claudette

P.S. Photographs, as usual, are Renato's. You can see more on my Facebook.

Woman-Friends

It should have been simple…my weekend that is.

My woman-friend from Calgary, A, was coming to town for a meeting and we were talking about meeting for supper Friday evening. Then, being the ‘entertainer’ that I am, before I knew it we were planning a ‘girls only night’ for five of us at my place.

'A' had two women she wanted to invite – one I had not met but she promised we would immediately bond. The second, D, was introduced to me a few weeks ago and we had hit it off, so I was looking forward to seeing her again. For myself, I invited my woman-friend Anni to join us.

The evening was ‘billed’, by me of course being the commandeer I am, as a night for women over forty who are re-entering the dating scene or actively reviving their existing relationships. We were to gather at 6:00 p.m., each person bringing something to cook or something they had cooked at home.

That was my compromise for a potluck – a Canadian tradition that I totally abhor! Wine and other alcoholic beverage were to be very available as we intended to totally unwind and get down to the nitty gritty of dating and sex for women over forty.

Serendipitously, Anni had only the previous evening watched a PBS programme on the exact topic we were planning to dissect. As she and I shopped early Friday afternoon for our contributions to this gathering, she shared the tidbits offered by Dr. Christian Northrup. What was most striking for Anni was the advice that women should try to frequently gather, exactly as we were about to do, as this is good for our well-being and spirit. “That’s what I am doing tomorrow!” Anni told me she excitedly screamed at her television.

Just after 6:00 p.m. Friday my women started to arrive. As it turned out, it would be only four of us as one person could not make it.

As it turned out – the party went on until Sunday.

Except for one, D, who I was meeting for the second time but who had had made such a lasting impression on me with her forthrightness and wonderful sense of humor and wit, I considered these woman-friends. As a matter of fact, having shared the way we did this weekend, D, would now join the ranks of my woman-friends and how could she not? After all, not only did she go away knowing much of my life story and the details of my journey over the last 16 going on 17 years but she understood and totally identified – albeit from a purely heterosexual perspective - the pain and agony that I have endured and the exhilaration for life that I am now enjoying and experiencing.

I have often used the phrase “Wounded Healers,” but not as often said where that came from. It is actually the title of a book by Henri Nouwen, the same person who describes friendship in this way:

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.

The ‘banquet’ table was laden with wonderful delights – tuna and artichoke and asiago dips, chicken soup, roasted tomatoes, prawns, hot and spicy chicken, potato salad and ham – and the wine was flowing. We laughed, we screamed and shrieked and we cried as stories of bad dates, bad sex and messy divorces and separations were shared. No topic was taboo, no holes were barred – we talked about everything and everyone who either joyfully or painfully shaped us into the women we now are and we toasted ourselves.

Well after midnight we parted company, except for A, who it turned out was actually going to spend the entire weekend with me and not one night. As she and I cleaned up the kitchen before going to bed, I felt a deep sense gratitude wash over me – for these women in my life. I recalled a tarot reader back on a beach in Jamaica telling me that I have a long line of women standing behind me, ready and able to support me whenever I needed them. Friday night proved him right yet again.

However, the celebration of friendship did not end there.

On Saturday, I was scheduled to meet my ‘new acquaintance’ to go equipment shopping for our upcoming backpacking trip. Regular readers will recall my ordeal last year on a hiking trip when I truly thought I would have either died on a cliff in Nordegg, Alberta or would lose one of my toes because of improper footwear. I was not going to make the same mistake this year so off we went to get me “geared” for not one but several hiking and backpacking trips for the summer.

Side note here: I have received so many calls and emails about this my ‘new acquaintance’ – most wanting to know more and at least one upset that she had to hear about this on Comforting Words. Her exact words were – “I thought we had a Oprah and Gayle friendship! Why do I have to read about your ‘acquaintance’ on your blog???” I thank you all for your interest, concern and more important your love and support – but please do not go out to buy wedding gifts! Enough said for now.

Back to the main story, knowing that the plan was to go get me this gear and return to my apartment for pizza and a movie – two of my women-friends decided that they would ‘crash’ so that they could size up this individual. This was hilarious! I felt – in a good way – protected and cared for but was not sure how 'the scrutinized' would take this and my woman-friends did not care!

They returned to the apartment before we did and as we waited for the pizza to be delivered they not so coyly pried and prodded. I laughed as I watched them in action – so too my, let me say “date” because it’s hardly accurate to call someone who you have been seeing at least twice per week for almost six weeks now an acquaintance. (I know I am going to get hell from my Oprah and Gayle wanna-be woman-friend for this disclosure – Lord help me).

The point here though is not about my dating but rather about the bond between women – a bond that comes when we are open to the genuine care and support that we as sisters have to offer each other. I will always remember and was reminded again this weekend of the ‘warning’ never to throw away your girlfriends for a lover (man or woman) as they are the ones who will be there for you when the going get tough.

My date survived the drilling of these two woman-friends of mine and will still need to be ‘processed’ by Anni, AA and my senior citizen (who has had an initial contact but not had the opportunity for the full interview).

Sunday was a bittersweet end to this wonderful weekend of female bonding. I went to church with A after she promised me that the preacher would deliver a good sermon (My main focus at any church service is the sermon). She did not lie.

Among the many things the guest preacher spoke of I was stuck by the example of the Amish community in the United States who intentionally lived out their faith and demonstrated forgiveness and peacemaking after their daughters were murdered.

In an indirect way, that is what my woman-friends did for me this weekend – they actively and intentionally shared their gift of love with me and together we made peace, we forgave and we embraced hope as we laughed, cried and talked about stepping back fully into life and intimate love.

The bitter came as I sat with my senior citizen, who came over Sunday afternoon to tea. She shared with me the recent diagnosis of her medical team – one that can go either way during surgery this summer.

As I recall how this woman lovingly held my hand when I was at my most vulnerable last November, I fought back my selfish tears. “I will be out of a job at least for the next two to three weeks, so I will come to your appointments, whatever you need, with you as you should not go through this alone,” was the first thing out of my mouth.

How do you repay someone, women, who have loved and unselfishly and agenda-less held you as you heal? I do not know but I thank God that I am now again in the place where I can give it my best shot.

I ask for your prayers for my senior citizen. I also ask you to call your woman-friends today and get together – maybe not for an entire weekend as we ended up doing or having them drill your date – but just because.

Blessings,

Claudette