It’s barely dawn on a Sunday morning – I can hear the neighborhood hoot-owl welcoming the sun while the street sweeper is dutifully doing her job. There’s an occasional car on the street, but not the loud noises of last night.
It’s as close to “silence” as I get in my Puerto Vallarta home. And in this silence, my thoughts are continually pulling towards all the people I’ve known for nearly 67 years.
For reasons too complicated to go into now, I’ve recently had to build myself a new Facebook account.
This is the second time I’ve had to do it – 20 months ago, my account was hacked and stolen. Fortunately, I could grab almost all the important photos stored on that FB account before I lost any access to it. Saved the memories. But I had over 1,000 friends I was (theoretically) in contact with on that original account. When my latest account was suspended, I had only built back about half of that number.
But it’s not the number itself that’s important to me. It’s the actual people being counted… The relationships that have made up my life. It’s the people Facebook allows me to keep in touch with even though our lives are now centered in vastly different places and focuses than they were when we met each other.
People I would otherwise be completely out of touch with who are still important to me, even as our lives have moved on.
One of the things about being in the arts is that when you begin a project you begin building a family of collaborators. Each theatrical cast, each musical group, each classroom – all families (like a genuine family…. not everyone gets along but we learn to appreciate and value each other to accomplish the mutually-desired task at hand). And with over 400 productions and numerous musical groups in my past, and too many classrooms to count, that’s a lot of people that have come in direct contact to my life.
Invariably, there were one or two people in each of those families with whom I became truly close and stayed in my inner circle after the show closed or the class session ended. I’m pretty selective when it comes to choosing Real Friends. I don’t give my heart easily. (I know why, and that’s for sharing in another writing). I’ve been choosy about who gets to see all my faults and flaws.
It may or may not be accurate, but I’ve always blamed my being an artist for my uber-sensitivity. I do not have a thick skin. Things do not effortlessly roll off my back. I am easily emotionally wounded, and I have to work hard to get over an injury. So I learned early to be selective in who gets to experience my vulnerable aspects. I am often most content when alone.
Yet in this “very-minor-crisis” situation of having to rebuild my social media family, in less than 24 hours, ALL of the people I consider my nearest and dearest had made the leap to my new account. We weren’t out of contact for more than a day. Within 48 hours most of the extended family had made the leap. Last night I was able to scroll through my Facebook feed and feel like I did 3 days ago…. in touch with those I genuinely care about and up-to-date with their worlds.
Despite it’s many flaws, Facebook – to me – works like the 21st century version of hanging out on the porch in front of the town barbershop, keeping in touch with your community.
Which, on this beautiful Sunday morning, leads me to once again marvel at how the Tapestry of our lives works. My, how we as humans need to feel that we are not alone. How we long to hang on to affection when we find it. How valuable are those chosen few who make up our immediate non-biological family… the ones who keep us feeling safe and valued and worthy.
And how interesting that I am feeling so completely grateful and warmed by thoughts of my chosen family while thoroughly enjoying being alone with the hoot-owl singing to the dawn and the street sweeper dutifully doing her job.
Am I at peace because I once again know that my loves are just a mouse-click away or is this just the balance of “At peace with myself, at peace with others?” And does it matter?
It’s a beautiful morning and I feel loved & loving.
