Journal entry: January 22, 1979

Garden Party by Gerda Wegener

January 22, 1979

As I opened my journal KINK-fm radio began to play The Beatles' Here Comes the Sun. Ironic since that recording was a major part of the music at our wedding and because this was our first day of marriage counseling today. It is our last effort to save the relationship, and I think we each have a good open feeling about the six weeks of counseling. After that time we will be on our own to either continue improving the marriage or to dispose of it.

The future is damn threatening for both TJ and me, but my fears are a bit deeper I think. After all, in May TJ will have a law degree which can lead to many things for him. I am now unemployed and have no financial security to call my own. Neither do I at this time feel capable of making a good enough impression on any potential employer to secure a job. Neither do I know what it is I really want to do; I do know it is not selling insurance.

Today TJ said to Dave, our counselor, that when he came home in August he stopped some motion of progress I had begun in the area of self-development. He said he also feels I cannot grow again as long as he remains around me. Is he right or wrong? Can we develop the marriage to a place where we each can grow, or can I only grow by being alone?

Why did I flourish so when TJ left me? Was it because I had to? As I told Dave today I've always been such a private person, yet Summer '78 was the first time I've had in which to be alone. That time was precious for me because I proved to myself that I could care for me and I received positive feedback from others for the way I was living my life.

The social highlight of my summer alone was the Garden Party given by some friends of mine who called themselves "The Ladies' Aide Society." Everything was perfect: the night air was the blessing of a July evening in the Pacific Northwest. The back lawn was sweeping and gracious befitting the oldest neighborhood in Salem. At the end of the grass toward the west a gentle sunset glowed over the little bank that almost hid Mill Creek. Our hostesses had scattered blankets there for us to further enjoy the water. Just feet away was a small brick patio where a man played classical guitar with a woman who played the flute and who also sang beautifully. They had set up a strong speaker system but used the trunk of a 200-year-old tree as a disguise for unattractive equipment. There was an aesthetic amount of lighting from outdoor poles which must have burned kerosene. People were warm, almost gushing friendship - but it wasn't phony. There was a generous movement in the people there; I met and liked everyone. They had humor as a group but were serious people individually. As their energy lessened toward the end of the evening, some left for home. A large number stayed to sit on the blankets and listen to the fine music. Their party photographer, a man who works for National Geographic, sat near me to get some shots of the musicians. He asked me how I felt since he had earlier shared some Lebanese marijuana and I remember I said, "I feel beautiful."

I want to feel that beautiful again, and I want it to last forever. Not my beauty, but the feeling of being beautiful.

~ from one of my old journals

~

14th wedding anniversary.....Ta-Da*

A good marriage is that in which each appoints the other guardian of his solitude.

- Rainer Maria Rilke

Fourteen years ago today Michael and I were married in New York City. We spent a week in New York and then returned to Steens Mountain in Oregon for the second week of our honeymoon, adding a few impromptu days in Reno before heading home to what was to be, quite honestly, a trying first year of marriage. Not because of us, but due to outside forces that came from left field and that we were then emotionally ill-equipped to deal with. But we really fought for our marriage during those strenuously heart-wrenching and venomous months, even consulting my longtime family doctor who referred us on to a wonderful psychologist.

We met with Paula, the psychologist, separately at first, then pulled it all back together in joint sessions for about six weeks. Mike had the first session with her, since we were primarily coping with people and events originating from his family and employment situation. (I'll add here: thank God for my mother and the support she gave to us that year.) When my turn came to meet with Paula the first words she spoke to me were: Do you realize how much he loves you?

I do. Those were the words I said during the short civil ceremony inside New York's Municipal Building 14 years ago. They were also the words I used to answer Paula's question some months later.

I do know that Mike loves me because he understands my need for solitude, which is greater than his own. When I first shared the above Rilke quote with him it went against how he'd been raised to think of marriage, but he gets it now. I appreciate that he is not only the guardian of my solitude, but as the years have gone by he has begun thanking me for being the guardian of his solitude. Of course that is only one aspect of our marriage, albeit a treasured one. I've isolated it for this post because it's what surfaced as I considered what I might write about for this anniversary to accompany these photos from our honeymoon.

Here we are at Kiger Gorge and Honeymoon Lake on a windy but beautiful September day on Steens Mountain, elevation 9700'. I'd vacationed alone at Steens in years before meeting Mike - and Honeymoon Lake had always been bone dry. That it was sparkling with bitter-cold clear water was simply astonishing to me, and we took it as a good omen that we'd be ok when we returned to the real world of shit, systems, and strife. Believe in omens? I do.

*Ta-Da
Of Turkish-Italian Origin. Phrase created to express a timeless, synchronistic love; written in stone and greater than love in any form. Soulmate.
You will always be my "Ta-Da" or Finding "Ta-Da" transcends all rituals and conclusions. It is an unending, complex, intimate dance together and nothing matters more than your own sense of balance and your choice of partner.
-via Urban Dictionary

*