The Single Life and Bali Here I Come

Hi, Boomers,

I was musing today about being single. After years of fighting the odds to mate with man, I have succumbed to the freedom, the joy, the bliss of being single. Don't get me wrong, I haven't given up sex. Being single and sex are not antithetical to one another. I love sex now as much as I loved it at 19 when some hunk took my virginity at UCLA on New Year's Eve. Funny, we never forget who took our virginity. Oh, well, sorry, "took" is not appropriate since I was the other half of the consenting situation. I can still remember that small, dark motel room in Manhattan Beach, past midnight, January 1st, with a little light coming through the faded white, shabby venetian blinds. His name was John and I was madly in lust. But I digress.

So being single is being able to come and go as I please without checking in with anyone. It's being able to be in Las Vegas with my family and not worrying about whether I have called my significant other today to let him know that I miss him and I promise to be home on Saturday afternoon. It's fully planning my day without questions, planning my trips without censure, planning my meals without a thought for anyone else. I can go to bed when I want and get up when I want and take my computer to bed and read at 3 am if I want and listen to the silence. I can get up to feed Baby Jude Love at 4 am and gaze into his little face with love.

I'm going to Bali in August with two single female friends. I am visiting my tango friend, Brenda, who, with her husband, built Desa Sanctuary in Ubud. Check out the website. It's so very beautiful and special.

The way this trip camd about was that Brenda emailed me on Linkedin to connect with me and to say she was reading my blog. Bali had been in my head for a long time and I felt I needed to get there before the Eat, Pray, Love movie came out this summer and the followers of Ms. Gilbert began to pay homage in Ubud to her personal journey. A few days before, my friend, Carol, a yoga student of mine at UCLA, was talking about going to Bali with her friend and I immediately invited myself. I showed Carol and Adrienne Desa Sanctuary and everyone was hooked. It took us 3 days to make the plane reservations and reserve a sanctuary for a week. Women are so smart and efficient with organizational execution because we know what we want and communicate efficiently. Bali, here we come.

Last year I went to southern Spain and Morocco with GAP Adventure Tours and I was the oldest of the seven women. It was a fabulous journey and one that I will remember always. The year before I went to Costa Rica for a yoga retreat and then an eco tour with my guide friend. Another great adventure. Being single allows me to plan my travels intuitively and take fully advantage of my curiosity. I used to think that I could never, ever travel without a man beside me. Life sure plays funny tricks on us.

So while I think that I may be falling in love as indicated in my last post, I am not rushing to fall in love. This is probably the first time I have been reserved in a relationship process. I have some things at stake this time around. I'm older and maybe a little wiser and maybe, just maybe, happier with who I am, my family relationships and my dearest friends.

Life is beginning to work out very well for a change.

Namaste

Joan

How Old Are You, Gran?

Hi, Boomers,

This morning at breakfast my 5 year old grandson asked me how old I was. I thought that was a pretty curious question coming from Jordan; however, this young boy has an unusually potent intellect. So his father, my son, asked him to do a little math.

"Before you answer this questions, Jordan, let's first find out how old I am," my son asked his son.

"How old are you, Daddy?" Jordan asked.

"I'm going to be 38 on Wednesday," Jonathan said. "So if I am 38, how old is Gran?"

Jordan gave it not more than a few seconds of thought.

"You're 60, Gran."

"Good guess," he father replied.

I told Jordan I was more than 60, so he began to guess moving up the 60's ladder. He hit 65 and I said, "One more, genius."

"Sixty-six," he giggled. Then he asked, "Do people who are 80 years old still have birthday parties?"

"Of course we do," I responded.

No matter the age we celebrate the years of living. It's an important ritual because it marks a another year in the journey of our lives. And we celebrate our children's birthdays and our grandchildren's birthdays to stay connected to family no matter what is going on in our personal lives.

Jonathan will turn 38 on Wednesday and it is another milestone for me. He still possesses that innate and quick intelligence that makes him so engaging. By a long shot, he is not perfect, never was and never will be. He has flaws like the rest of us, but his heart is good and his loyalty to family and friends is huge. He still parents me like crazy and monitors my thoughts and feelings when I am in his presence, teases me endlessly, and he still drives me nuts. But I love him unconditionally and cherish the fact that he is and forever will be my oldest child.

Which brings me back to Jordan Mac, my first grandson. I never imagined being a grandmother. It was the most distant of thoughts until 5 years ago. I didn't know how I could love more children, and I find myself loving my grandsons as much as I loved my two sons. Love is simply magic. Holding my newest grandson, Jude Love, is the most delicious experience, even at 5 in the morning as I am walking the floor with him and trying to make his gas pains go away. We fell asleep on the bed together about 6 am, Jude on my stomach, my head flopping on a pillow and I knew I was in a magic kingdom where pure love exits.

I made a commitment to be with my family for this spring break week, to be living in their homes, watching their children, my grandchildren, because family is the single most important value in my life. Sure, I could have been in Buenos Aires dancing tango as I have done in the past; or I could have gone back to Costa Rica to my yoga retreat center; or I could have worked some more to keep my students happy. Yet, none of the travel or work means anything to me at this moment. Jude Love in my life right now and I want to hold him and watch him smile endlessly and grab on to his first few months with every bit of energy I have.

Namaste

Joan

CAN WE REALLY FALL IN LOVE AGAIN?

Hi, Boomers,

At the moment, I am surrounded by my 4 grandsons and thinking about falling in love again.

How does all this love energy work together? I have no idea, and I am trying to figure it out.

I've been keeping a secret to almost everyone in my life. I met a man last Saturday night who is enlightened, more evolved than most men, dances tango as elegantly and as passionately anyone I have ever danced with, plays tangos on his guitar beautifully, is looking for a mate, makes love like an angel, and maybe is falling for me. Besides that, we have a strong connection with our professional work. More importantly, we want to make a relationship.

What man puts it out there like that to a woman? What woman could walk away from this man without serious consideration.

Oh, and I forgot to say that he lives in Montreal six months out of the year; winter is spent in Los Angeles where he hangs out with his two adult children and grandchildren.

Long distance relationships. They are a plague. They mostly don't work. How do we do this and keep the emotional connection? I tried it before. It lasted 7 months, which is pretty good, I think. But now I'm older and wiser and have settled into singleness with joy - finally.

I didn't get enough face time with this man. He's complicated in a good way. I'm settled in a good way. But we are both looking for companionship. And I think we could be right for each other.

I'm wrestling with how to do this and we have just left each other. Do I really want to fall in love again? Big question after all this work on myself. I think I do but I don't know if I can.

I thought I would never fall in love again after my last relationship. After almost 4 and a half years of his running away and coming back, I ended it. He broke my heart and my heart is still broken. I think I'm on the mend and then I'm not. My therapist would say: "Sit with it, be with it, let the emotions embrace you."

I am and I'm trying. In the meantime, I have enough testosterone around me to last a lifetime. Tonight I'm going out to dinner with my 2 sons and their wives to celebrate family.

I'm full of joy.

Namaste

Joan

Hitting the Road

Hi, Boomers,

I'm in a kind of margarita kind of mood. Literally, I just had a margarita after teaching my tango lesson to my best, best friend and not my lover John. I refer to John in my book, SIXTY-SEX & TANGO, as my best friend and not my lover. He is 67 and I am 66 years old and we behave like teenagers. Every Friday after I give him a tango lesson, he and I drive to a Mexican restaurant where I have a margarita and get slightly high and he has his pretentious British aperitif. We talk and talk and talk for an hour and depart knowing that we will see each other the following night for sushi and dance tango at our Saturday night milonga (the place where tango dancers meet up to dance tango). How I adore this ritual! It is so close to feeling 20ish again that it makes me giddy with joy.

But, alas, tomorrow morning at 4 am I'm leaving for Vegas, Baby, Vegas. I'll spend a week with my family - 2 sons, 2 daughters in law, 4 grandsons. I'm overdo; I'm in a rabbit's stew. It's been 2 months and I'm in withdrawals. My grandsons are 5, 3, 2, and 4 month old - all boys. And we are expecting another baby in Sept. We are not going to know the gender. It's too much pressure for us all because we want a girl in our family. It's scary not to know the sex of a baby now-a-days, but in the olden times, my time, we didn't know either so what's the difference. We want healthy, healthy babies.

I love driving in the early morning. I drive with the truckers. I feel save with them. And I feel young again. I'm on my own, traveling like Jack Kerouac in On The Road and loving the freedom, the music, the flowing thoughts. I don't ever want to give that feeling up. It takes me three and a half hours door to door and that's with a Starbucks stop before driving into my oldest son's home. I enter with all the kids up - Jude Love - the baby - as I imagine him in prop chair - the other two, Jordan and Luc, playing and running around the house in their pj's.

That's life. That's the best one could ask for.

Meanwhile, I think I am getting into a relationship. Life throws us curve balls, even at my age, even at 66.

Namaste

Joan

SIXTY-SEX & TANGO

I feel guilty and completely intimidated at this moment. I am back blogging. I have been putting this blogging thing off for a year.

If anyone who knows me personally, they will think, "She's kidding, right?" "It's a joke." Joan is never intimidated, never afraid, never insecure. Well, guess what? I am all of those things.

I have a few good excuses for not blogging in a year. The overriding excuse is my book. Over the summer of 2009, I got an agent and my book was entitled, SO YOU'RE 60, GET OVER IT, CONFESSIONS OF A BEATNIK/BOOMER. My agent and her wonderful assistant, an author in his own right, changed the name to SIXTY-SEX & TANGO. They thought is was more sexy, catchy and would appeal to publishers.

Alas, after six months, all rejection notices were in. Despite some good reviews, the over-ridding response was, "Who's she? What has she done? What qualifies her to talk about living large in the decade of the 60's?"

I don't know. What have I done? Lived a full and rich life and had some very happy and sad and wonderful experiences and slept with some really terrific men.

So, what do I know? I know that I live by my teaching and practicing, my dedication to meditation and my joy at being a mother, a grandmother (now 4 grandsons and counting one more in Sept), a writer, and a darn good friend.

So the book publishing experience wasn't all negative. Yet, I did sit on the book for several months after my agreement with my agent. I thought of putting it on Kindle, then took it off, then decided to self-publish. I selected iUniverse and have been very happy with my experience with them. My book is now in the editing stages after 7 weeks of rewriting, re-organizing and clarifying the message of my memoir Some people have even found this blog in the meantime and I owe those people my attention and further writing on the subject of living crazy, wild and free at 66.

I am almost late for my yoga class at UCLA so I will write more later. Oh, yes, and it took me days to find out how to find my blog. Being technically challenged is a bitch.

Namaste

Joan

Reinventing Myself

Hi Boomers,

I haven't written in such a long time.  I feel guilty.  I've been struggling with my book about turning 60.  The good news is that I have an agent.   I decided not to self-publish.  I've taken a leap of faith and held out for a publisher who may see value in my musings.  The bad news is that my agent thinks I need to change my title to better reflect the contents of the book.  I'm open to new ideas.  I hope we, the royal we, come up with something we all like.  

I thought about it all weekend while I was on a tango weekend, a festival in Denver where some very good tango dancers show  up and we get high on tango for 3 days over Memorial Day.  It is always great fun even though some of the usual suspects didn't show.  Was it the economy, stupid, or was it that the festival is getting stale.  Stale and tango do not belong in the same sentence.

Meanwhile life takes twists and turns as in my sons are no longer speaking to each other.   Don't they realize that each have only one brother in life.  There are no more brothers to have in their lives.  It's such a cliche in life that brothers/sisters don't talk to each other.  It seems that siblings are harder on each other than just plain friends.  They see each other are perfect in some ways, flawed in others and the good/bad characteristics are magnified tenfold.  I hope in time that my sons, these once terrific friends, will mend the fences and forgive.  Meanwhile, I've experienced intense emotional pain that I have almost lifted during the last three weeks.  

My trip is coming up - to Southern Spain and Morocco.  I just realized that I will be getting home July 5 at 11 pm and I have to teaching the next morning at 7 am.  Boy, will I be tired.  I'm using Advantage miles and I can't change anything.  I'm going to die spending 17 hours in Heathrow.  Most of the time, I'll be sleeping, but the next morning will be brutal.  I knew this when I made the reservations, but I forgot - thought I was arriving on July 4th late.  I'm hoping that something will happen and a seat will open up earlier to Los Angeles.   

I feel naked because I don't have a book to write.  Maybe I'll blog more.  Maybe I'll meditate more.  Maybe I'll write more poetry.  Maybe I'll actually take a yoga class.  Maybe I'll rest.

Namaste

Joan

Slogging Through 60

Dear Boomers,

  I haven't blogged since April 26th.  I feel a bit remiss but not necessarily guilty...until now.

I've been in a general malaise outside of my yoga teaching.  Oh, I love my work and am grateful every day for my students, my private clients and my friends.  

I guess it has to do with adult children this week and the end of the old lover comeback.  Let me start with the old lover comeback:  there wasn't one; it was a non-started, a fake and phony attempt to reconnect with heart or devotion and with a dedication to carelessness;  Moving on (although I didn't move on all week), the other issues revolve around my sons and their inattention.  I guess it's great not to have sons that have a mother complex - the tiny voice inside of a man that says to a woman - No! No! don't come any closer to my heart because I really cannot love you with my total being.  That's the inner mother.  The outer mother is a symbol of the inner mother.  Too complicated, huh?

Anyway, whenever I try to connect to one or the other of my sons, I get, "Mom, didn't I tell you not to call my home phone," or "Mom, I'm on my way to work, getting Starbucks, call you later."  No call later. One is chewing me out while the other just ignores.  What's the brain process here.  We live in different cities.  I try to come into Vegas once a month to see everyone, be with my grandchildren, be available, yada, yada, yada.  

What is family connection, anyway?  What does it mean to be connected to family?  Family asks after you, as in, are you happy, feeling good, depressed, or are you doing all right with finances, work, dating.  Sometimes I think a mother/grandmother should just take off for Tibet for six months and let everyone wonder what happened to "Mom."  She used to be around a lot and now she just doesn't care about us anymore.

I won't leave.  It's just not in my nature to leave my family.  I almost did once in Buenos Aires when I could have had a job teaching English as a second language.  I thought long and hard about it.  I'd dance tango all night at the milongas and then I'd get home about 3 am and get up at 7 and teach English to those peacock Argentine men in their high rise buildings.  I'd last about one week.  I wonder if women who are a couple feel this kind of lonelinessor is it because I am single that I sometimes excess being ignored.  

Anyway, I had a great weekend despite kissing off the old lover with an epic Beowolf poem exhaustedly, meticulously composed over a three day marathon.  I was obsessed to get it perfectly written, and, if I do say so myself, it was a masterpiece of irony.  And I already know the old lover won't even get it, let alone read it.  But it doesn't matter because I feel fabulous today at 65.  Oh, but you see, I also had a marvelous date with a much younger man this Sunday and all went right with the world.  After the walk on the Venice boardwalk, which resulted in my buying T-shirts for my grandsons (oh, yes, I don't hide much), we went to an exquisite move called "Examined Life - Philosophy is in the Streets."  Age didn't seem to matter much.

The day and my date reminded me of the best of times in Berkeley in the 60's at the beatnik coffee houses along Broadway and Columbus Avenue with jazz puncturing the cold night air.  WOW!  I felt like 19 again.

Namaste

     Joan