Fabulously Ever After

Last weekend I, wishing I had my entourage of fabulous women friends to share the experience of seeing a classic chick flick with, went to see Sex and the City - the movie by myself. Geography and busy schedules kept me from getting my wish but I could not wait to see the movie version of a tv show that has inspired me and served as therapy to my sometimes weary soul.

Around the time of my fairly recent break up, I ordered Season 1 of Sex and the City from Amazon. Instantly, I was hooked. I was enamoured with the storyline, women in their thirities living in New York City trying to find a suitable partner while experiening all the challeneges and mishaps of dating and relationships many of us face today. Strong, successful women who celebrate being single and fabulous in a culture where women in their thirties are more or less expected to be married and having children. I feel that this tv show is so important. It sheds light on many issues women have never felt safe talking about before. The voice of Carrie Bradshaw (played by Sarah Jessica Parker) who plays a writer on the tv show, through her sex column asks real life questions so many of us struggle with such as 'Do you have to play games to make a relationship work?', 'Can there be sex without politics?', 'Is timing everything?', 'Is honesty really the best policy?', 'Are we getting wiser or just older?' The threaded theme of the story is the glue of female friendship.

As I sat in the dark movie theater, I was relieved that I had come to this movie alone because I found myself surprisingly overcome with emotion. I cried during much of the movie. I cried for the love that I have lost, for the strength that I have found in myself and for the deep longing I feel to be reconnected to my girlfriends as we once were. I cried for the unfairness of life circumstances and for finding humor through it all. I realized it was the first time I had let myself go like that in a long time. I stayed through the credits because I became aware of those around me and felt slightly embarrssed. The strong bond you feel between these women on the screen recaptures that sense of togetherness and belonging I once felt with my 'chick clique'. Then somehow, life gets in the way. If you manage to stay close with just a few friends through the years, consider yourself lucky.

Afterwards, I put myself back together and as if the movie had subminially brainwashed me, I suddenly had the intense urge to go shopping. And just like that, I got my stride back.

The Invitation

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tip of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can dissapoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusations of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty, even when it's not pretty, every day, and if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else fails away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

From The Invitation by Oriah Mountain Dreamer