December 2020

I love you!

My dear friend Kerri called to wish me a happy Thanksgiving when I was at my writing desk in our bedroom. Suddenly, my heart leapt, and I asked, “Can you hear Peter’s clock chime?” I put the phone next to his favorite English burl-wood case clock with Westminster chimes.

Since the beginning of the pandemic, his clock, with four angels with outstretched wings that hug the face, has been mostly silent. Several months ago, as I was about to fall asleep, I was surprised by joy. Out of the dark of night, in the quiet peacefulness of my bed, I heard the hammer’s sound of Peter’s presence. Bong.

My body was tingling with soul-bumps when I heard this gloriously sentimental sound of music. Kerri said, “Peter’s favorite holiday is Thanksgiving. You think you’re alone and you are with Peter.” Because Peter’s passion for clocks lives in and through me, the ticktock, the sense of connection and continuity, is most moving, deeply meaningful to me.

Before Kerri and I ended our conversation, I interrupted her: “Listen.” In silence, we both paused to soak in the eleven evenly timed, spacious bangs. Mysteriously, just then, the hall clock at the foot of the stairs gonged, even though it wasn’t synchronized with Peter’s clock upstairs.

Right then, Matt, Kerri’s beloved husband, brought a breakfast tray to her with pink roses, fresh hot coffee and freshly squeezed orange juice. He has been made an honorary brigadier general with the Army. There will be a ceremony in December to honor his thirty-year service to our country in the military. Matt got on the phone to wish me a happy Thanksgiving, simply saying, “Alexandra, we have so much to be thankful for.” Amazing grace shared.

The mysterious timing of the awakening of this treasured object is most healing. Before going to bed the night before, I tenderly, mindfully wound the clock with the key, praying that somehow it would chime on Thanksgiving Day. When a friend asked me what I’m going to do on Thanksgiving, I told Amy I’m going to be thankful. Indeed, we all have so much to be thankful for. My cup and Peter’s clock runneth over.

Dr. Samuel Johnson’s wisdom reverberates in my heart. We don’t have to be informed; we need to be reminded. Peter’s clocks chiming and gonging, breathing life into the spaces they occupy, are comforting triggers under all circumstances.

Peter’s clock is frantically ticking but no longer is chiming and striking. I’m grateful I was miraculously drawn to be in the bedroom to experience this moment of pure grace I had so hoped for. My prayer was heard. I showed up. Be careful what you wish for because we have to be prepared to receive these rare, beautiful gifts. I’m thankful I felt the gentle tug of my intuition, and I followed it to the exact place I was meant to be.

I can ring a small brass mindfulness bell of Peter’s to remind me of all my abundant blessings. All the circumstances that are out of our control to change, we not merely accept but look for the silver lining. There are always countless beautiful truths we can embrace when we have intensely focused awareness of the preciousness of life. Illness, loss, death, isolation and disappointment have the power to have us deepen our love of humanity, our common purpose, our compassion and empathy. We become more contemplative. We listen, we hear. We become more engaged, more understanding of our collective human condition, how we can play our part to help.

The coronavirus has hit home. I am in quarantine. Several members of my immediate family are sick with this deadly Covid-19. I’ve been exposed. I have my fingers crossed. I meditate and pray a lot. I’m mindful of the reality in real time, in real life. Because they are younger, they probably will heal and fully recover. However, no one knows how each person’s immune system will respond. As my spiritual mentor and dear friend John Coburn understood, “We never know.” We hope. We pray. We have faith. We love.

When I wrote Choosing Happiness, I made it clear that we can choose to use our energy constructively. In my book You Are Your Choices, I wrote that the wiser the choices, the greater the joy. In real time, in this very moment, we can change our brain chemistry by the life-affirming thoughts we mindfully cultivate. We can’t put our lives on hold when life is increasingly challenging for all of us. I am choosing not to worry about my family contracting Covid-19. Instead of worrying, I am choosing to hope, to wish, to pray, to love, to do everything in my power to have things work out well. Sometimes, when I least expect it, however, I have to face reality too close for comfort. “Let go. Let God.”

This is a highly contagious, airborne virus. I pray my loved ones will have a speedy recovery as I consciously am more aware of the power of love. As I count my blessings, you—my friends I’m writing to this Thanksgiving Day—are close to my heart.

Around the world, the pandemic is raging out of control. The only place this deadly virus can’t infect us is in heaven. Please, for your sake and for the love of family, friends and community, stay safe. Be an earth angel this holiday season.

Jane E. Brody is the science editor for The New York Times. Her “Personal Health” column truly hit home for me as I gratefully celebrate “Thanksgiving for one.”

The print version of the November 17 column was titled, “Here’s a great gift idea: Don’t make others sick. As winter and the holidays arrive, remember the dangers of Covid-19 and influenza.” The illustration is a gift box with a ribbon tied with ten pastel masks!

Please: Don’t lose your resolve to stay safe and healthy. Please: Don’t let your guard down. Michael Osterholm, an epidemiologist and infectious disease expert, told Jane Brody that “sharing air with someone is the primary mode of transmission.”

We must physically distance from others outside our bubble. This does not mean withdrawing loving-kindness—it’s the opposite. A true “bubble” is one of people who “remain highly faithful to safe practices,” he warns.

“The integrity of that bubble is only as good as its weakest link,” he said. “If one person lacks fidelity, everyone else is at risk.” Dr. Osterholm suggests we meet friends and family in outdoor settings, masked and maintaining physical distance. “The ultimate gift you can give people you love is not to get anybody infected.”

He continued: “This is your Covid year—just get through it—then hope that next year we’ll be in a very different situation. We’re going to see the darkest days of this pandemic between now and next spring,” when, as Jane Brody wrote in her column, “a vaccine may become available.”

I am making a deliberate, mindful meditation practice of loving-kindness. If a less than compassionate, empathetic thought enters my consciousness, I have my antidotes to bring me back to my enter of love. Am I being loving? Am I being kind? Am I being generous-spirited? Am I putting myself in someone else’s situation? Am I being patient?

This newsletter is the final one for this tumultuous year of 2020. Whether we are living in the best of times or the worst of times, right now, right where we are, this is it. This is our Time Alive. Alicia quoted from my book, “Our time alive is brief by any standard. Now is the only opportunity we’ll have to give our life meaning and satisfaction.” I’m appreciative that I am one of Alicia’s muses. We’ve all learned lessons and insights, many uncomfortable and inconvenient truths. I am profoundly grateful to feel a magnetic bond that connects us. In the most basic and powerfully beautiful ways, our higher principles and core values are strengthened by our continuing mutual caring, respect and love.

What my daughter Brooke began in a café in Paris thirty years ago is most relevant for each one of us as we’re finding ways to flourish in the uncertain, risky months ahead. Thank you for sending me your pandemic words. Oxford Languages publishes The Oxford English Dictionary and usually chooses one word for each year. This year they decided not to choose a word for 2020 because there were too many. On their short list, the 2020 words all seem to hold the weight of the world on their shoulders. Some think the words are “terrible.” Others are hoping that 2021 words will be more fun and positive. The word pandemic and the use of the term increased more than 57,000% since last year.

What we’re experiencing is that we can’t always reduce our thoughts to one word. As you can see, some friends have more than ten words to express themselves.

I dipped my toe and soul into doing my first virtual event. The Beauty Dharma Summit was also the first of my wonderful new friend Leslie Christin’s series of interviews. (You can watch part one here, and part two here.)

Beauty, as you know, is my lifeline. I breathe beauty because what is beautiful is both true and good. Dharma is seeking your highest self. We can let beauty be our guide.

Leslie has featured twenty-two inspirational speakers from all different disciplines. I’m thrilled and honored to have been invited, recommended by a mental health expert who is also featured in this summit. All of us understand the healing power of beauty.

Let me know how you enjoyed our conversation. I laugh just thinking of my friend and adorable neighbor Charlie raking leaves on his bluestone. (Scratch, scratch.) “It’ll only be two and a half minutes,” he told me, as we laughed on video. I said to Leslie, “All I want is real life.” In this instance, with six feet of separation, I love my neighbor as myself.

Shannon has been reading my books since she was a young college student. She wrote me kind words, telling me my books have inspired her and informed her adult life “in appreciation of seeking beauty and intention in the everyday.”

Stories bring meaning into everything. I was delighted to have Shannon write that she’s always been intrigued by “the beautiful green and purple domed rings” I wear, wanting to know if they were family pieces. Yes, there is a story behind the rings; a most happy story indeed.

You may recall that Peter and I went to Tiffany & Co. on Fifth Avenue and 57th Street on a Saturday afternoon in the early spring of 1974. We’d had a romantic lunch in our then-favorite restaurant our dear friend Charles Masson ran with his elegant grande dame mother, Giselle.

Peter headed straight to the jewelry counter, which used to be on the first floor, and asked a lovely lady for “the least expensive wedding ring in the case.” He settled for one costing $55. Coincidentally, this ring of intertwined golden rope was designed by an aesthetic mentor and muse, Van Day Truex. (He ended up becoming the head buyer for Tiffany & Co. until his untimely death of a heart attack on a buying trip for the company.)

When Peter and I went to visit his mother after our return from our honeymoon in Paris and Bermuda, I proudly showed off my “band of gold.” She left us in the living room, went to her safe in the hall linen closet and appeared with a clear plastic fishing tackle box full of precious jewels. She had me select a ring to accompany my poor, lonely wedding ring. Shannon, the green stone is not jade, as you guessed—it is a cabochon emerald, a highly polished convex-cut unfaceted gem. My middle name is Green. My mother’s maiden name was Green. I selected the green stone, putting my ring on the outside of my finger as a guard ring.

I was dancing around the room in pure glee, showing it off to Peter and his sweet, adoring mother. Seated on a loveseat next to Peter, his mother reached into a ring section in the colorful box of gems and produced a purple star sapphire. She reached for my ring finger, lovingly caressing my long fingers, and slipped the sapphire next to the emerald. “There.”

That is the story of my gorgeous, unusually large, colorful gemstones on my ring finger that accompany Peter’s “golden rope.”

For decades I never took off Peter’s mother’s rings—I mean never. Over the years, with wear and lots of gardening, they needed to rest in the summer months. Peter’s mother designed the setting. While I agree with Peter that “possessions possess you,” these two rings have such grace and meaningful associations, they are now an intricate part of my love story that is still ongoing. To me, the rings are sacred, and therefore nonmaterial.

To Shannon and all my dear friends, thank you for your tender, loving devotion over so many years, seasons of change and renewal and personal growth.

I’m now wearing Peter’s mother’s rings with increased joy because of your intrigue, Shannon. Thank you. Thank you for caring, for asking to know why, what, where and “how come” the rings!

As I close this letter to all of you, know that my heart is expanding in understanding and compassion as we share all the best of times and the worst of times together. Keep writing me your stories. I care deeply. I’m here, as you are for me. You know, in any way I can be useful, we can share “deep talk.”

I continue to Love & Live Happy. I will, with your support and love; I hope and trust you will with mine. Enjoy the sacredness of this holiday season 2020. We will renew our vows of love. Let the inspirational words of this precious season’s holiday hymns and music bring timeless tidings of comfort and joy.

Let’s practice the mindfulness practice of loving-kindness together. In this exciting new year, I’m leaning in. I’m looking forward to exciting new beginnings. I thank each of you for your huge contributions to my spirit energy throughout my adult years. What an exciting journey we’re on in the forward flow of life’s cycles.

Do whatever is in the power of your will to “make the season bright.” Light the lights. Light candles. Light up our hearts with your smile, your dancing eyes and your beautiful soul. See the irony in a crisis, and have as much fun as you can, whenever you can, for as long as you can.

Happy, happy holiday season. Every day, we can live with “elegance, order, beauty and grace” throughout this new, last month of the infamous year 2020. We can look forward to 2021 with optimism and hope.