One of the best ways to learn how you've changed is to do things exactly the way that you've enjoyed doing them in the past, and see how you feel. My vibe in London this year was very different than last year, when I changed my ticket three times to extend my stay. I still love London, but I live in New York, for the moment.
Yesterday, I was walking with my sister, and she said something to the effect of liking my new "relaxed, natural" look, which consisted of a black knit suit, white blouse, and sandals. I could see what she meant, although I think of it as an evolution, "soft glamour," versus "hard glamour." After I went through my meditating-in-the-woods phase a few years ago, it seemed to the outside world that I went in the opposite direction. Not really, though; it was just a different kind of solitude. I took a chance on love and got my heart smashed into a thousand pieces, and really did feel as though I wanted to go live on a distant star in a different era; no one talks to you when you look as though you're made of diamond ice with sequins trailing to the floor. I enjoyed having the distance that I needed at the time, and whatever I needed to get out of it, it's done. Glamour was a beautiful cloak.
Now, I face my birthday in June, and I think about the direction of my life, as I always do, as I am not getting any younger although I am grateful for the experience and the life I have been fortunate to enjoy thus far. Every day is a gift. And I remind myself of Jenny Holzer's maxim, printed on a wooden postcard a dear friend gave me long ago: Turn soft and lovely, any time you have a chance. I've put the furs in the back of the closet, for a few seasons, maybe forever. I'm open to an array of new possibilities now. And I do.
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