• About Judith A. Ross

Shifting Gears

Shifting Gears

Category Archives: inspiration

stuff that inspires me

Finding Happiness on Mount Misery

08 Saturday Dec 2012

Posted by judithar321 in environment, friendship, health, inspiration, meditation, pets

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

dog walk, gloomy weather, Henry David Thoreau, Lincoln, Massachusetts, Mount Misery, Sudbury River

Reflection

We woke up this morning to the steady patter of rain. A raw, gloomy chill hung over the house. Plus our newspaper was late. Blech.

Then at 9 am sharp, my phone rang. It was my friend Kathleen calling to invite Karina and me for a walk with her and her dog Zoe at Mount Misery.

After a few deep sighs, I accepted. After all, as Kathleen said, we have to walk the dogs anyway. We might as well go someplace different and more interesting.

Not nearly as bleak as its name suggests, Mount Misery is a set of trails a few minutes’ drive from our respective houses. Bordered on one side by the Sudbury river, its trails lead up a hill, through the woods, and past a pond. There’s farmland in the area as well.

The woods always feel so peaceful in the rain.

Heading to the riverKarina in the mistMist cloudriver bendLinesThe mist and wet wood make all the colors and textures stand out in sharp relief.

Eel-log close up

Foot fungus

Rhododendron leaves

Karina and Zoe had a blast.

on the trail

They even made some new friends.

GinnyBlue eyes

There was a remnant from Hurricane Sandy.

ShardAs well as some remnants of hard work by squirrels.

Squirrel work

Squirrel work close up

A tree eating a sign …

No swimming

and a lost and found.

lost and found

It was a beautiful walk. In the end, I was grateful for the rain.

Pond

And my walking companion was ready for a nap.

Post-walk naptime

Stitches of Gratitude

28 Wednesday Nov 2012

Posted by judithar321 in friendship, inspiration, meditation, writing

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

Charles Dickens, connection, detective series, Econesting, Foyle's War, gratitude, hats, knitting, Madame Dufarge, Prime Suspect, socks, Tale of Two Cities, Wallander

This fall Paul and I have gone on a crime-watching spree. We’ve been turning on the TV, and taking in episode after episode, season after season of detective shows.

We began in pre-World War II England with Foyle’s War, traveled to Sweden for the Wallander series, and are now back in the U.K. following Helen Mirren in Prime Suspect.

Like Madame Dufarge in Charles Dickens’ Tale of Two Cities, I have been sitting in my chair, quietly knitting, whilst bedlam breaks out before my eyes. I’m not as clever as Madame Dufarge, I can’t knit names into my work.

But like her I am keeping a list. Names of people I’ve had the luck and pleasure to connect with during this past year. People who, in this online world, have been both supportive and inspiring.

And so, stitch by stitch, I’ve been knitting my gratitude into a series of hats.

One recipient likened my stitches to a row of brussel sprouts.

Knitting is one of the few places in life where I have even a ghost of a chance at mimicking nature’s perfection.

My original concept for this post was a question: Why can’t writing, or even life be more like knitting? I’ve since realized that I don’t want either of those things to be as straightforward as knitting.

I want both my writing and my life to include the unexpected, the good, and the bad. Those detective shows on TV would be pretty boring without the false leads, wild goose chases, and surprise endings. Writing and life would be pretty boring too if I always arrived on time, and at the expected destination.

In fact, those hats might be getting a bit too straightforward. So for my next project, I’m thinking … SOCKS!

Socks knitted by Ronnie Citron-Fink, photo by Jen Kialba.

This Zine Is the Real Thing

07 Wednesday Nov 2012

Posted by judithar321 in aging, art, friendship, inspiration, writing

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

blogging, editing, Elizabeth Cohen, online magazine, Talking Writing, zine

“Age” © Elizabeth Cohen

Sometime during the summer of 2009, I received an email from my friend, Martha Nichols, inviting me to participate in a literary blog she was starting called “Talking Writing.” A seasoned writer and editor, Martha sent the email to several of her writing colleagues asking them to participate in and comment on her new endeavor.

A year later, in the fall of 2010, Martha and the equally experienced, Elizabeth Langosy, with some help from me, launched Talking Writing: A Magazine for Writers. Since that time, I have had the great luck and pleasure to be a part of this groundbreaking endeavor.

Working long hours, Martha and Elizabeth have poured their brilliance and passion into creating a fully formed magazine that is beautiful to look at and loaded with thoughtful and unique voices and perspectives. If you haven’t read it, you should.

In fact, I’d encourage all of my blogging friends to think about pitching a piece or two. TW can’t offer you money — what literary magazine can? — but  you will have the satisfaction of working with its talented team of editors, and your byline will appear in the pages of a zine that receives close to 9000 hits per month.

While I enjoy the freedom of writing unedited on my own blog, it also feels good to put myself in the hands of these capable and talented women. They help their writers develop their pieces in the most supportive way possible. Martha and Elizabeth are great teachers and they always make my work better.

So I was flattered when they asked to republish a post from my blog. Martha assured me that it just required a “few, minor edits.” And while she was true to her word, those edits helped turn a blog post into a publishable piece.

“Porcelain Bones,” appeared here last March as “Inside a Potter’s Studio, a Daughter Finds Answers.” I hope you will give the edited version a read. While you are there, check out the rest of TW’s November/December issue — and if you haven’t already, take a few extra seconds to subscribe.

48 Hours in Portland, Oregon

02 Friday Nov 2012

Posted by judithar321 in friendship, inspiration, travel

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Bent Brick, hurricane Sandy, Oregon, Portland, Portland farmers' market

We left on the Thursday before hurricane Sandy made its way up the East Coast. We knew it was coming, but nothing was certain. After one, slightly tense discussion, we decided to take our chances and head west.

From the plane

We stayed in a tiny bungalow — 750 square feet, to be exact — that included a sofa bed, TV, kitchen, dining area, and bathroom. The inside was Ikea-made from top to bottom.

We’d rented a car so that Paul could take some side trips to visit his brother, who was in a hospital in nearby Vancouver, Washington.

On our first morning, we awoke to rain that continued throughout our visit. While Paul was with his brother I spent a good deal of time in Powell’s Books and drinking tea.

At this particular cafe, the teacups were dainty, but the music was not. It had an edgy, tough vibe. And yes, that’s my hat on the table. I’m conflicted about hats. I love them, but not the resulting “hat hair.” This particular hat had been sitting on my desk at home, unworn, for months. I’m glad I brought it, it was the perfect shield for Portland’s drizzle.

But enough about hats, Portland is all about the food. Our first breakfast took place in a French bakery near our place. Perhaps not the best croissants in town (more about those later) but they sure were buttery.

Perfectly poached eggs atop grilled tomatoes and pesto with squash and home fries, croissant also included.

The rain prevented me from taking many photos but it let up on Saturday, while we were at the farmer’s market at Portland State University.

“Hot” peppers

The kids at the market had a chance to show off their formidable pumpkin-carving skills.

Some of the farmers also displayed their Halloween spirit, like these friendly “scarecrows.”

By Saturday night, it was clear that given Sandy’s trajectory, our flights back to Boston on Monday would likely be cancelled. Luckily, we were able to reschedule our departure for early the next morning.

But not before we had a fabulous meal with some new friends. Can you believe I met Leslie online, through my friend Heather in Arles? It was a match made in heaven.

Leslie and her husband Scott insisted on taking us out to dinner. We ate at the Bent Brick. Scott convinced us that we’d be doing him a tremendous favor by taking the “whole menu” option. Yes, dear readers, we ate the whole thing.

The food was amazing, the company even more so. It felt like we were reconnecting with two old friends. The conversation covered our careers, our kids, our homes, our dogs, and politics — our mutual desire to live in a country of “we” and not one of “me.”

As Paul said, we could have talked to them all night. We closed down the restaurant. When we said good-bye, Scott handed us a care package for our trip home. It contained the day’s New York Times, the best croissants, and a bag of local hazelnuts from their food co-op.

We went to bed at midnight and got up at 4 am to make our plane.

I want more. We’re going back.

Yes. I Was Rude.

03 Wednesday Oct 2012

Posted by judithar321 in environment, inspiration, work, writing

≈ 15 Comments

Tags

cashmere, Concord, hypocrisy, manners, Moms Clean Air Force, plastic, rudeness

You’re expecting a “but” here aren’t you? There are no buts about it. It wasn’t intentional, and I didn’t mean it, but yes, I was rude: To a customer.

There I was, head down, lost in thought, and elbow deep in cashmere as I processed a delivery. Two women walked into the store. I think I greeted them….. maybe not.

Then, out of the blue, one of them made a seemingly innocuous statement, “I thought you no longer sold bottled water in Concord.” *

“Huh?” I thought to myself, “we sell cashmere, not water.” But then, instead of making me purr, the way cashmere usually does, this popped out: “What’s your point?”

Oops. This is something I might say in jest to my husband when he drops the occasional non sequitur. But somehow, in that moment and context, I didn’t add my usual lilt of amusement. Even if I had, it still would have sounded wrong.

The polite response would have been something like, “Why do you ask?”  But before I could apologize she left the store in a huff, muttering loudly about “rude shopkeepers.”

These porcelain berries are the closest thing I have to an olive branch.

I don’t know why this happened. I do know I had been feeling rather discouraged that day.

Perhaps it was the residual sliminess I felt from watching Scott Brown’s sleazy debate performance the night before.

Speaking of two-faced conservatives, did the woman’s shrill-ish voice conger up memories of a former landlady — the one who made a point of telling me how much she liked Jews?

Or maybe it was the fact that I was doing better with the cashmere, than I was with my blog. I was starting to feel as though I had nothing new to say.

Bingo.

So, in addition to apologizing to the customer, I guess I should thank her for sparking a post. That is, if she ever sets foot in  my “shop” again.

While I’m waiting for that day, tell me, have you ever inadvertently let loose a snail on an unsuspecting victim? If so, please confess. It will help me feel like less of a jerk.

*The town of Concord, Mass. has banned the sale of less than 1 liter bottles of water, which goes into effect next year. You can read more about the reasons behind the ban here. 

Fall Forward

12 Wednesday Sep 2012

Posted by judithar321 in adult children, aging, environment, inspiration, mid-life transition, writing

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

empty nest, freelance writing, garden, work

There’s a definite chill in the air. Last night I layered two wool blankets on top of the summer one. Before long I’ll have to pull out the down comforter. Outside, the garden is making its yearly journey from the sunny yellows of mid-to-late summer, to the richer, more textural pinks, reds, and purples of my fall bloomers.

As the garden makes its turn into fall, and we pile on the blankets, it’s easy to wax nostalgic about the days when there were four of us rushing out the door each weekday morning. But I’m resisting that temptation.

Instead, I’m focusing on what I will make happen — as opposed to what might happen — next.

It’s been two years since I lost my job, and during that time, I have created a framework on which to build my days.  Daily walks with the dog, thrice weekly swims, and Tuesday and Thursday afternoons working at a local store, provide the bones for my week. In between each of those activities I work on my blog and other writing assignments.

The transition from the formal structure and demands of full-time employment and parenthood that I’ve clung to for most of my adult life, to the looser requirements of freelance work and empty-nest living, feels like a chasm that I will continue to cross for some time to come.

I don’t know if I will ever feel I have “landed” again. In fact, it’s possible that I’ve never felt that way. Not really. What I do know is that my current writing assignments, both paid and unpaid, feel more authentic, are more satisfying, and bring me more joy than anything I’ve done in the past. And, much to my surprise, this new work and lifestyle have brought me friends and supporters from some unlikely and even far-flung places.

Although I’m still working on how to turn this more joyful work into a decent income, I am grateful that I no longer have to fake excitement or passion when I don’t feel it. I can say what I mean and mean what I say. The ability to just be myself has been one of the most rewarding aspects of my ongoing transition.

This fall, I’m putting on some new shoes, and adding to my my already existing framework. My new DIY structure will continue to evolve. It may never be fully finished, but it will be strong enough and flexible enough to feed my brain and nourish my psyche. With luck and hard work, it might just sustain me through the ever-changing, always surprising, journey ahead.

Why I Buy Organic Food

05 Wednesday Sep 2012

Posted by judithar321 in environment, health, inspiration, writing

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Hutchins Farm, Journalism, organic food

Every spring we wait in breathless anticipation for our local organic farm to open. In late May, the bounty starts to roll in, beginning with lettuce, arugula, and spinach.

By late June we start to see strawberries, and as the season progresses, the shelves become more and more crowded with gorgeous, local produce.

Meet Liza Bemis, my local organic farmer.

Now that it’s September, watermelons are on the wane, tomatoes are still in full swing, potatoes are coming in, and squash is beginning to fill up the bins outside.

There is nothing more tasty than a roasted potato that was pulled out of the ground that very morning.

I love my local organic farm.

So when I saw “Organic Food Benefits Doubted,” trumpeted in the index on the front page of yesterday’s New York Times, my blood began to boil. The article, prominently placed in the front section under National News, did nothing to calm my ire, “Stanford Scientists Cast Doubt on Advantages of Organic Meat and Produce.” 

Both headlines were deceptive. The study found that organic meat and produce are no more nutritious than conventionally grown meat and produce. But that’s not why I buy organic food.

I buy organic food because it isn’t grown with pesticides or injected with hormones. And because organic farmers don’t use pesticides and other chemicals, they aren’t harming the environment. According to Liza, that’s the reason organic farmers do what they do.

They love growing healthy food, and they respect where it comes from.

Maine = Vacationland

27 Monday Aug 2012

Posted by judithar321 in art, environment, friendship, inspiration, mid-life transition, travel

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Acadia National Park, cameras, friends with kids, Little Cranberry Island, Maine, photography, technology

When it comes to technology, I can be a bit shy. And, yes, shy is the right word here. Whenever I get a new piece of equipment, I don’t dive in and immerse myself by either experimenting with all of the buttons, or by cozying up with the manual on the couch for a few hours.

I like to circle, develop a feel, and take my time. Even the unpacking should be a bit ceremonial.

But as I mentioned in a previous post, our camera died. The new one arrived just as we were about to drive up to Maine for a few days. We had been invited to spend some time with friends on Little Cranberry Island, across the water from Acadia National Park.

You travel to the island via the mail boat. And once there, you don’t feel stranded, but life does proceed at a calmer, more sedate pace.

The view from our hosts’ front door is spacious.

And here’s what you see when you walk around the island.

One of the best things about the trip was spending time with our hosts’ 10-year-old son. I love that he is in our lives. And I’m so glad he came along when he did. It has been a privilege to witness his development from baby, to toddler, to a thinking, feeling human being. He is whip smart and funny. 

He’s not shy about technology, oh no. He asked if he could use my camera while we were on the mail boat. His nimble fingers made short work of finding the special effects button.

Photo by Nick Howe

Photo by Nick Howe

Once on the mainland, we took a walk around Jordan Pond inside Acadia National Park.

Photo by Nick Howe

So, dear readers, may your remaining summer days be both slow and sweet, and may their memory keep you warm during the shorter, cooler ones ahead.

As for me, my “shyness” should dissipate soon and I expect I’ll keep busy and warm by poking, prodding, and giving this new camera the third degree.

I hope you’ll stay tuned !

A Blog of One’s Own

22 Wednesday Aug 2012

Posted by judithar321 in friendship, inspiration, writing

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

blogging, BlogHer 2012, Econesting, Groovy Green Livin, Moms Clean Air Force, Womens Voices for Change

Whenever I think about connections between women, I remember coming home from school to find my mother drinking coffee at our kitchen table with her friend Rolande. From my first-floor bedroom, I’d hear the low murmur of Rolande’s French-accented English, punctuated by my mom’s musical laugh.

These days we can connect with other women all over the world via email, instant messaging, video chats, and by commenting on each other’s blog posts. Women we’ve never met face to face have become our friends, colleagues, mentors, and students. We talk, argue, and commiserate as we share stories, opinions, successes, and heartbreaks. Yet we still value, and even crave, that old-fashioned face time.

A few weeks ago, in New York City, BlogHer held its eighth annual conference, and those sessions felt like my mom and Rolande’s kitchen-table conversations—on steroids. BlogHer is a community and media company created in partnership with women in social media “to create opportunities for women who blog to pursue exposure, education, community and economic empowerment.”

Both genders are welcome at the conferences, but most of us at BlogHer ’12—more than 5,000 of us—were women. We were gathered there “to talk about everything from pop culture to parenting to politics,” said BlogHer co-founder Lisa Stone in her opening address.

Indeed, among the bloggers that I met during a “speed-dating” session were a dominatrix with an IVF baby; a mommy blogger; and a woman who teaches sign language to help new moms communicate with their babies.

Why do all these different women blog, and what do they have to say? 

I started my own blog because, after decades of writing for other people’s publications, I needed something of my own—a place where I could express my own thoughts and opinions in my own voice, and even (gasp) have a bit of fun. 

The blog has offered me a chance to reflect out loud about the everyday stuff of an almost 30-year marriage, an empty nest, and tie my concerns about climate change to what’s happening in my own backyard.

Casey Carey-Brown, the mommy blogger I mentioned, describes her experience at the conference  and why she blogs this way:

“I found myself surrounded by thoughtful, vulnerable, honest writers and heard over and over how they are in this because they have to be. Because they love it. For the life that it brings. The life of reflection. Of higher standards for yourself. The struggle and joy of being able to work at your craft and always get better. Always be better.”

Other women I met blog for more concrete, practical reasons. Lori Alper, of Groovy Green Livin told me in an email that she blogs because it “allows for a learning and connecting with an ever-growing  fabulous community of  like-minded men and women.”

Lori began blogging on the heels of another career. A former lawyer, she started her blog because two of her children were born with life-threatening food allergies.

“After spending a great deal of time educating myself on non-toxic living, my family began experiencing first-hand the benefits of living an organic, non- toxic lifestyle.  I knew I needed a larger forum to learn and share. I decided to trade in my attorney suit and follow my passion—and Groovy Green Livin was born as a way to educate myself and others on how to live as naturally and toxin-free as possible.”

Meeting women like Lori, whom I’ve gotten to know online through our mutual work for Moms Clean Air Force, was among my main motivations for attending the conference. I also met and hung out with several other bloggers and staff from Moms Clean Air Force—one of whom, I learned, is a fan of this blog!

I also shared a drink with two women whose blog I had begun to follow only recently: Carrie Tuhy and Mary Lou Floyd from Second Lives Club. These accomplished women post essays about women who are embarking on dramatically different lives than those they lived when they were younger.

Making eye and voice contact, and engaging in a lively back and forth with such vibrant, intelligent women has inspired me to dig deeper, focus on what feels authentic, and to be both fearless and passionate when expressing my opinions and ideas.

The conference sessions provided valuable takeaways and motivation for moving forward. 

I attended BlogHer sessions on writing; on forming and using online organizations to make change; and how to price and value your services.

Two themes that came through in almost every session I attended were:

  • Women have a powerful voice. President Obama’s willingness to open the conference via video is proof positive that what we say and how we vote really does matter. (Mitt Romney, who was also invited, was unable to participate.)
  • Bloggers and writers want—and expect—to be valued and paid for their work. This ambition came through loud and clear in almost every session I attended. The writing sessions addressed issues such as transforming blog posts into printable essays (most print publications pay their writers) and how to approach editors at paying sites, such as Women’s Day.

There were also keynote sessions featuring Martha Stewart and Katie Couric, and a panel with Soledad O’Brien, Christy Turlington Burns, and Malaak Compton-Rock. For a terrific synopsis and a “shoes-eye” view of those sessions, I suggest you read this post by my friend and fellow blogger Ronnie Citron-Fink.

The formal sessions. coupled with many small conversations, helped me clarify my goals. I realized that while my own blog allows me to feed my more creative side and speak my mind, I also want to be part of something bigger than myself. I left the conference even more determined to continue and expand my work for clean air and children’s health.

And while the conversations I had with others at the conference weren’t as personal as the ones between my mom and Rolande those many years ago, the support and friendship I felt as I pushed back my chair and left BlogHer’s enormous kitchen table was every bit as real.

This post was originally published by Women’s Voices for Change.

On Luck, Gratitude, and Wild Turkeys

13 Monday Aug 2012

Posted by judithar321 in adult children, environment, friendship, inspiration, pets, travel, writing

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

blogging, BlogHer 2012, Brooklyn, city/country, fashion, gratitude, luck, New York City, online connections, wild turkeys, Womens Voices for Change

Last week I joined 5000 other women at the 2012 BlogHer conference in New York City. To make the event more affordable, and to have a little family time, Paul and I drove down together and stayed with our son in Brooklyn.

The thought of rubbing elbows with people I’d only known through online exchanges was pretty thrilling. And I was looking forward to making some new connections and taking home some helpful tips and inspiration from the sessions.

But I was also nervous. There’s nothing to make me feel more like a country bumpkin than a trip to the Big Apple.

Because I generally travel with my extremely competent male entourage, finding my way from Brooklyn to the conference on my own would be a new experience. In fact, when my son heard my plans, he joked about making me the kind of placard that kindergartners wear while on a field trip. “My name is Judith, if lost, please call….”

Jokes aside, his excellent directions enabled me to arrive at the conference without a hitch.

Well almost.

Sadly, he didn’t give me any fashion advice that would enable me to survive a 45- minute subway ride without looking like I’d slept in my clothes.

I’d agonized for days over what to wear. And I chose my two favorite summer dresses, both with fabulous belts. The problem was that one was cotton, the other linen, and no matter how well they traveled when carefully folded in a suitcase, they both became a wrinkled mess after I’d sat in them for any length of time.

But my dress worries vaporized when Paul and I came back to Brooklyn after meeting for dinner in the city. Our car was not where we left it. It had been towed — a front wheel was allegedly outside of the legal space. When we got it back, it was making an ominous new noise.

Which leads me to the string of bad luck we’ve had over the past couple of weeks. A few days before our New York trip, Paul was driving his van home from a job. It was raining hard and his windshield wipers suddenly went dead. He had to pull over and wait for the storm to pass.

After our trip and the second car fiasco, my prescription sunglasses and then my swim goggles disappeared in quick succession. Like the car, they were suddenly gone from where I surely had left them. Apparently there’s a black hole for eyewear.

Then, when it seemed like we’d lost or broken everything we could in one week, I saw a family of turkeys crossing our yard. “Get the camera!” I whispered to Paul. He brought it over, turned it on, and announced, “It’s dead.”

Luckily, my iPhone was handy and still working (for now at least).

I was transfixed by this momma and her five babies as they made their stately way across our yard and into the garden.

Karina was transfixed too.

So here’s the current tally: two broken cars with one very expensive repair, two pairs of lost eyewear, and a deceased camera (did I mention that the electric toothbrush is also on its way out?).

So yes, we’ve had a run of bad luck. But the fact that it’s the everyday, garden variety kind of bad luck and not real trouble makes me enormously grateful.

Grateful that my husband can fix a lot of things.

Grateful that my friends are willing to step up and provide help and advice. (Thank you Jane and Heather for the camera recommendations. And huge hugs to Kathleen who made sure I attended the conference with nice-looking business cards.)

Grateful that lost items, unlike people and friendships, are easily replaced.

And grateful that we arrived home safely and can sit on our deck and enjoy Mother Nature’s daily parade.

Vase by Elizabeth Cohen (http://elizabethcohenpottery.com/)

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