I awoke this morning with a smile on my face knowing I had made it through the darkest night of the year. Pundits on NBC even called it “the darkest night of our lifetime” because of the total lunar eclipse that made last night’s sky even darker. Add to that the snow that has been piling up on top of my home these last several days, hiding any glimpse of sunshine, and it was as long, and dark and cold as I ever need a night to be. But today is a great day.  Because today, the winter solstice, marks the beginning of the days getting longer.

It is funny, because when I was working, my favorite day of the year was the day we set our clocks back.  It felt like such a gift to get a whole free hour.  Now,  I have enough time in the day….I just want to get up and get going with the sun. And while three months of winter are still ahead, I love knowing that the sun will soon be getting up when I do (even if it is to shovel snow.)

I like this new perspective on time.  It gives me a sense of possibilities, of being on the brink of a new chapter in my life, in my life after advertising. And while this decade is technically a year old, I still feel like it’s a new toy waiting to be opened and played with.

I have seen some dark nights.  And I know there will be more.  But I intend to walk with the wind at my back and the sun on my face for just as long as I possibly can.

It is hard to believe that John Lennon was killed 30 years ago today.  30 years is a lifetime. That he was only 40 then is also hard to believe.  He seemed so old and wise.  So complete.

He gave depth to McCartney’s words. He gave direction and a twist of humor to our entire generation, a generation that is inclined to take itself pretty darn seriously.  His music, his voice, had a “directness that cut through all the nonsense,” as Ray Davies pointed out in the New York Times today.  We felt a little rudderless for a time after he died.  Even now, as I stop and remember him, I still feel the hole his death has left in the world.

One of my favorite places to go in New York is Strawberry Fields in Central Park,  named that posthumously in his honor.  There is a touching mosaic with lyrics from “Imagine” worked into the terrace, and benches surrounding it.  Usually, it is crammed with tourists and takes on a kind of carnival atmosphere that I find distasteful. But I have come upon it a few times when I had it nearly to myself and that is when I love it best. One of the benches there is dedicated to my former husband, Ray D’Amelio, from his friends at McCann Erickson.  If you get there very, very early on a summer morning, it is quiet and beautiful and spiritual, a little island of peace in a crazy city.

What would John Lennon have said to us throughout these last 30 years, about the wars we fought, the discoveries we made, the greed, the greatness, the hubris and the generosity we have witnessed?  Would he have continued to be our poet, our voice, our troubadour?  What difference could he have made in our lives had he not been taken down by a senseless act of violence?

We can only imagine.

I had bad days when I was working.  Stabbed in the back, lied to, cheated on days.  Thrown under the bus, as one friend pointed out, days.  One beautiful spring morning on the way to work in New York,  I was kicked in the ankle by a homeless woman.

Yesterday was my first bad day in six months of not working but it was entirely different.  No one kicked me, or tried to take credit for one of my ideas, or even said nasty things about me.

I was simply invisible.

I left phone messages that are still unanswered. There are gifts I have given that remain unacknowledged.  I have sent important (at least, to me) emails that are still unreturned.  The emails I do get are from Amazon and TruHoroscope.com, or people asking for money, and the one phone call I got was from someone wanting to clean out my heating ducts.  He was really nice.

My orthodontist, who is charging me a fortune and a half, actually scolded me. Then I went to Lenscrafters, where you can get glasses “in about an hour”, and it took over 5 hours to replace the lenses in the reading glasses I already had.  The contractor working across the hall from my place rolled his eyes at me when I asked him if he had shut the elevator down (he had). Really?? Argue with me, reason with me, charm me, or swear at me, but don’t roll your eyes at me.

I wonder, have I changed?  Is it because I am wearing a sweatshirt, or no makeup?  Have I lost my sassiness, my swagger?  Or is the universe simply reminding me to stop and be a bit more considerate of others and their time?  I sure hope it is the latter.

Just to be sure, I am going to put on my good jeans, extra makeup and head back out there today.  And I will do at least one bold act of kindness, just for good measure.  I am okay with not being a global advertising executive.  I am not okay with being irrelevant.  And I will NOT tolerate eye rolling.

The longer I live, the more I appreciate the ability to vote.  I remember reading about the first elections in Iraq, how people were killed trying to vote, or waited in line for hours and hours just to cast their ballot.  And to think we have to be coaxed, or at least, reminded to choose our leaders and to shape our world.  I would think that we, in this Starbuck’s society of ours, who want our coffees with two shots of espresso, half caf, skinny, tall with one sugar should jump at the ability to pick their preferred representatives, shouldn’t we?

On this Election Day, I also think about this new world I, or rather you and I are in–this blog world.  (There really should be a better word for it than blog.)  What a gift to be able to share my thoughts with you, with complete freedom, and I treasure  the responses I get back.  Often it is a friend commenting to me directly about something I wrote, sometimes it is a brave soul who leaves a comment at the end of my post.  It thrills and amazes me. The technology of it, the freedom of it and the connectivity of it are all just slightly magical.

Don’t worry, I am not becoming political here.  I will write more about Creole Gumbo or Mole Sauce than I ever will about a political issue of any kind.  But to be able to have a voice, a vote, a forum to express my thoughts is something I take for granted most days of the year, yet am blessed with daily. 

So I was pleased to vote.  In fact, I voted for someone who was once a client of mine–one of the great clients.  But that is a topic for another post, another day.

Today let me simply say, I am grateful to have the space, the time and ability to connect with you.  Very, very grateful.  And that I hope you voted, too.

I like snow.  I think it is beautiful and invigorating, poetic even.  But I have never lived in a home that has been this buffeted by snow for so many days and it isn’t even Halloween.  Something about it makes me feel ever so slightly panicked.

What am I doing here?

This is Park City where everyone drives a 4-wheel drive and hikes 5 miles before breakfast.  I am accustomed to taxis, room service and a gym in my building a comfortable elevator ride away.

I gaze out my window and watch in awe as a woman effortlessly glides by on cross country skis.  She is so graceful in this snowy wonderland.  Will I ever be?

Still, I am encouraged by the sun which has just reappeared in all its glory.  Craving its warmth, I put on my boots, tramp out to the deck looking out to the golf course where the flag on the fifth hole is still waving bravely in the breeze.  The sun bouncing off the glittering snow is intense and I can hear the snow and the icicles melting under its power.  It is comfortingly steady and strong.

Maybe even Park City isn’t quite ready for winter.  Maybe, not quite yet.