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23 November 2021 This past week I’ve been lying low, recovering from functional bilateral blepharoplasty. Olive and Abby take turns keeping me company on the couch, one then the other curled cozily at my feet while I ice. fun fact: frozen peas are far colder than corn For the second time in less than six months, I’ve come face to face with my bruised reflection. As someone whose taken 40+ years to feel comfortable in their skin, this is a challenge. Intellectually I know the marks will fade and disappear, yet it’s unnerving to confront this battered version of myself. I pass the hours listening to podcasts. The contemporary narrative evokes the disembodied radio voices from my past, soothing me just as they did when I was infirmed as a child. Once upon a time… specifically Once Upon a Time… at Bennington College “the wildest and wickedest school on America. In the last great decade: the 1980’s.” Dear reader, Bennington College was the school of my dreams. When I was in high school, I immersed myself in college guides of all sorts as if they were fairy tales I could magically enter to become someone else, anyone but how I saw myself as the shy, awkward girl “in the back brace.” Listening to Lili Anolik’s podcast, I see Bennington’s allure all over again. By reputation, it was a school of cool, creative, rich kids who definitely knew how to have a good time. the me I wanted to be Unencumbered by the trappings of grades or athletics, Bennington felt like a kingdom on a campus that existed “at the end of the world” and certainly far, far away from Fairport, NY. once upon a time, I dreamed of being anywhere but here In the summer of 1983, I got as close as I ever would to being an actual student when I participated in the Bennington July Program before my senior year of High School. Somehow over the month, it became apparent I was ill-equipped for a place like Bennington ~ that there were limits to my powers of reinvention, and rather than find myself, I would more probably disappear. Listening to this podcast and imagining myself taking classes with Donna Tartt and Brett Easton Ellis has only confirmed what would have indeed been my tragic demise. Ultimately I did escape to another idyllic New England setting on a hilltop, Connecticut College. Ranked by Forbes as one of the top ten “most beautiful schools,” the college also had the highest number of Porsches on campus according to the Official Preppy Handbook. Again, not that I knew anything about Porsches other than from Sixteen Candles or Risky Business, but perhaps you can glimpse the convoluted machinations of my 1980’s mind. I had a lot of work to do… In the podcast, Jonathan Lethen affirms the challenge of being a student at Bennington: because if everyone had to produce some remarkable version of themself, the question was: who were you going to be? For many years I tried to find my place by fitting in rather than getting to know the person I already was. I doubt I’m the only one Contemplative practices have taught me the power of stillness. To sit and to listen: just be here with me Which brings me back to this present moment. On my couch. Drinking coffee. Surrounded by my sweet, sleepy, snoring dogs. Once upon a time…at Bennington College is the rabbit hole of my past kaleidoscoping into my present ~ one of many voices calling out and reminding me no matter what, I’m still here, and of the multiplicity of ways I found myself to be at home at peace in this body. To know I needed every story, every experience to become myself. Even the ones I will never do again, and for that, I am grateful. This Thursday is Thanksgiving, and for the first time, John and I will be celebrating with all four of our children and my parents. It’s a big step, and I’m coming to the table, black and blue. But I’ve come to know how we are all bruised and know if we are lucky we find love, and the way to turn our wounds into our marks of distinction. to bow our heads and gather in grace. xosew
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