AFI's Top 100 Movies

I was just getting caught up on the happenings with Scott when I found a fabulous idea from him. He's set a goal to see all of the AFI's top 100 films, and has a list of his progress. I think that is a great idea, and I'm starting my own list. I'll mark in bold the ones I've seen so far.
Current Standing: 50/100

1. Citizen Kane, 1941 - Such great camera shots, visually beautiful.
   
2. Casablanca, 1942 - Perhaps the most romantic movie of all time. But when I first saw it, I didn't understand the ending.
   
3. The Godfather, 1972
   
4. Gone With the Wind, 1939 - I met Olivia de Haviland when I was a teenager. She was doing traveling stock productions and came to my town. We got our hair cut in the same salon at the same time.
   
5. Lawrence of Arabia, 1962
   
6. The Wizard of Oz, 1939 - So dark it used to scare me as a kid. But I loved it.
   
7. The Graduate, 1967 - I didn't understand it the first time I saw it, I was too young.
   
8. On the Waterfront, 1954
   
9. Schindler's List, 1993
   
10. Singin' in the Rain, 1952 - Enjoyable, but not my favorite musical.
    
11. It's a Wonderful Life, 1946 - One of my holiday traditions.
    
12. Sunset Boulevard, 1950
    
13. The Bridge on the River Kwai, 1957 - My dad loved this movie, and we saw it a lot in our house growing up.
    
14. Some Like It Hot, 1959 - This is one of my favorite movies of all time, #2 behind Maltese Falcon.
    
15. Star Wars, 1977 - I didn't see this in its first theatrical release, I was turned off by all of the people on campus dressed in capes and fighting with those light sword thingies.
    
16. All About Eve, 1950 - I love Bette Davis movies, and one with Marilyn Monroe is even better.
    
17. The African Queen, 1951 - I didn't like this one, and I'm a big fan of both Kate and Bogie.
    
18. Psycho, 1960 - Terrifying.
    
19. Chinatown, 1974
    
20. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, 1975 - Terrifying. I was scarred for life by Jack's performance.
    
21. The Grapes of Wrath, 1940
    
22. 2001: A Space Odyssey, 1968 - The first movie I ever saw twice at the theatre. This movie changed my life.
    
23. The Maltese Falcon, 1941 - My personal #1
    
24. Raging Bull, 1980
    
25. E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial, 1982 - Hated it.
    
26. Dr. Strangelove, 1964
    
27. Bonnie and Clyde, 1967 - Better than the remake with Kim and Alec
    
28. Apocalypse Now, 1979
    
29. Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, 1939 - I love all Capra films, and anything with Jimmy Stewart.
    
30. The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, 1948
    
31. Annie Hall, 1977
    
32. The Godfather, Part II, 1974
    
33. High Noon, 1952
    
34. To Kill a Mockingbird, 1962
    
35. It Happened One Night, 1934 - Classic
    
36. Midnight Cowboy, 1969
    
37. The Best Years of Our Lives, 1946
    
38. Double Indemnity, 1944 - I saw this after being a fan of My Three Sons, and was really disillusioned.
    
39. Doctor Zhivago, 1965 - I read the book also.
    
40. North by Northwest, 1959
    
41. West Side Story, 1961 - My mom loved this, and we all watched it when it aired on TV
    
42. Rear Window, 1954 - I went through a Grace Kelly phase where I watched all of her movies. I prefer The Swan, but this one is excellent, also.
    
43. King Kong, 1933
    
44. The Birth of a Nation, 1915
    
45. A Streetcar Named Desire, 1951
    
46. A Clockwork Orange, 1971 - Terrifying, shocking, and somehow spellbinding. It left me wondering if people like that really existed. Thanks to Court TV, we all know that they do exist today.
    
47. Taxi Driver, 1976
    
48. Jaws, 1975 - Thankfully, I didn't live near a beach when I saw this.
    
49. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, 1937 - I can see this over and over.
    
50. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, 1969 - Not my favorite movie.
    
51. The Philadelphia Story, 1940
    
52. From Here to Eternity, 1953
    
53. Amadeus, 1984 - I loved this one.
    
54. All Quiet on the Western Front, 1930
    
55. The Sound of Music, 1965 - I used to watch this one every week. I love it, one of my favorites.
    
56. MASH, 1970
    
57. The Third Man, 1949 - I tried to like this one, I really did.
    
58. Fantasia, 1940
    
59. Rebel Without a Cause, 1955 - James Dean. Period.
    
60. Raiders of the Lost Ark, 1981 - Fabulous movie, one of my favorite movie series.
    
61. Vertigo, 1958 - I love seeing any Hitchcock movie, the camera angles are so stark and beautiful.
    
62. Tootsie, 1982 - Hated it.
    
63. Stagecoach, 1939
    
64. Close Encounters of the Third Kind, 1977 - This movie changed my life.
    
65. The Silence of the Lambs, 1991 - I can not watch the ending of this again, no matter how many times I've seen the movie, I stop it before the end. Too graphic for me.
    
66. Network, 1976 - "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it any more..." was my mantra for several years.
    
67. The Manchurian Candidate, 1962
    
68. An American in Paris, 1951
    
69. Shane, 1953
    
70. The French Connection, 1971
    
71. Forrest Gump, 1994 - Hated it.
    
72. Ben-Hur, 1959
    
73. Wuthering Heights, 1939
    
74. The Gold Rush, 1925
    
75. Dances With Wolves, 1990 - A classic movie, I really enjoy this every time I see it.
    
76. City Lights, 1931
    
77. American Graffiti, 1973
    
78. Rocky, 1976 -- I've proudly avoided seeing this all of my life, not a Sly fan.
    
79. The Deer Hunter, 1978
    
80. The Wild Bunch, 1969
    
81. Modern Times, 1936
    
82. Giant, 1956 - I thought all of the James Dean movies were too similar.
    
83. Platoon, 1986
    
84. Fargo, 1996 - Love it.
    
85. Duck Soup, 1933
    
86. Mutiny on the Bounty, 1935
    
87. Frankenstein, 1931
    
88. Easy Rider, 1969
    
89. Patton, 1970
    
90. The Jazz Singer, 1927
    
91. My Fair Lady, 1964 - Not a favorite.
    
92. A Place in the Sun, 1951
    
93. The Apartment, 1960 - I saw this after Some Like It Hot, and I didn't like Jack Lemmon's character.
    
94. GoodFellas, 1990 - Loved it.
    
95. Pulp Fiction, 1994 - I was fascinated by it, but can't see it again.
    
96. The Searchers, 1956
    
97. Bringing Up Baby, 1938 - Too silly for me, even though it has two of my favorites, Kate and Cary.
    
98. Unforgiven, 1992 - This is what a western should be.
    
99. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, 1967 - I cry every time, knowing this was their last movie together.
    
100. Yankee Doodle Dandy, 1942 - Cagney is dandy in this.
     

I'm off to a good start! It's amazing, but I've seen 50 of them already, mostly on the top of the list, too!

Faith Test

I'm in the middle of a huge personal project -- regaining a healthy lifestyle and in the process, losing something like 125 pounds. I'm somewhere between 40 and 45 right now, and for the last two weeks, I've gained instead of losing. It just tells me that some more adjustments are necessary. But it also tells me that my mind needs some adjusting, a booster shot of faith -- to believe that my goal is real, to believe that I can do this, and to believe that I am doing this.

I'm slightly disappointed with the pace of my weight loss the last two months. I've only lost about 12 pounds in 8 weeks, which is below the safe level, but still is in the right direction. I do get bursts of impatience, so I'm working on being patient at the same time. That kind of impatient feeling only adds resistance and friction to the process, not a healthy contribution.

But the biggest challenge to my faith has been the reaction of some of my friends. I have a very good friend who is technically in plus sized clothes, but at the very bottom of the scale. A few weeks ago, I mentioned that I had set a goal size for the end of the year, and I felt every bit of her bristle when I said that. She doesn't believe she can reach that size in her own life, and as a result, my goal caused her discomfort. I felt that discomfort, and every bit of her negative belief. She explained WHY that weight is too thin for her, totally justifying her current weight. I don't say that with any sort of opinion about her weight, only the observation that her weight exactly matches her beliefs about weight.

I realized that this friend is not going to be able to be supportive of me as I reach her weight and go beyond it. There is some sadness with that realization. It's not that I think we won't be friends, but that I will stop talking about my weight loss details, daily triumphs and challenges, with her. I don't think she can take it, or maybe I should say, I don't think she will relate to me on those topics.

But the worst part was that for a few days, I wondered if my goal was too extreme, and I totally slid into a wave of doubt that I can reach and maintain myself at my goal weight. I may not know the number that will be on the scale, but I do know that it will be thin, regular weight, not anorexic looking. Flesh on my bones, but small. Smaller than I have ever been in my life! (OK, technically I had to pass through that stage as I was growing up, but definitely not during my adult life!)

So, do I believe that I can set a goal to be a normal weight after a lifetime of being overweight, and really reach that goal, and then maintain that weight for the rest of my life? YYYYEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS! I do have moments of doubt, fear and other unpleasant things that come from years and years of not being at my goal, being frustrated, and justifying my decisions to myself. That's a lot of crap to shovel out! So I'm not surprised that I found this patch of disbelief inside me. But I do believe that I am in the process of doing this. Just because I haven't done it before doesn't mean it can't be done. Just because most people who set out to lose weight don't lose it, doesn't mean that I can't be one of the successful ones!

There are two battlegrounds... my daily living choices, and inside my head. I've made a promise to myself to be diligent in both areas. And I will continue! I'm going to do this, and prove to myself how a person can totally change his or her life.

Privacy & The Single Girl

I just did something that I haven't done for years... I did a vanity search on Google for my name. And I was HORRIFIED to discover what came up. For the most part, I've done a good job at keeping myself anonymous, except for my journal writing workshop. [I'm not going to mention the name because I don't want it to come up in a Google search!] There are only a few places where someone could link the real me to my online presence. And my God, the tiny project that caused me all of the trouble in the first place shows up on nearly 60 websites thanks to the franchising of data at DMOZ. Those people must be making tons of money, the way they are reselling their data. I'm there, with my full name, nearly a hundred time. Thank God that online journal is dead and has been dead since all of the trouble started. What was that, three years ago now?

In the beginning of the Internet, it was fun to search on my name, and I would get so excited each time I found a new link to me, a new site that mentions my name. But once I got burned, I stopped loving that sort of attention. Being in search results isn't being famous, it is giving people a handle to learn things about me, and use them against me as I found out the hard way. But at least I understood that I was caught in the trap of human nature, and I did what I had to do to protect myself. I turned off that weblog, and when I returned, I was anonymous. I still am anonymous. Almost.

I've created several different online personas over the years. I pretty much only have one right now, and that is fine with me. Although I realized tonight that adding a second one would dilute the path to my door. Perhaps it is time to pull out an old one, one that no one would link to me. That would be good. It might be worth the effort I might have to think about that idea for a while.

But the whole concept is interesting. Creating false identities so that my real identity remains private, so that what I say can't be used against me, so I can be totally honest about what I'm thinking and feeling. Of course, there are other ways to be anonymous... ways to stay under the radar, but I want to connect to an audience. I just don't want the audience to connect back to me in a personal way. I don't have a problem with that. But maybe I can also think about removing myself from the hubub, not allowing the search engines to find me in the first place. I know how to do that. It means writing just for myself again. I can do that. In fact, that is why I don't have comments on this site... I don't want dialog. I need a place where I can monologue, where I can dump my heart and mind and not worry about what people will think. Or maybe, all I'm worried about is what people might say back to me, what they think isn't my concern at all. Hmmmm... more to think about.

I wonder if this is any sort of glimpse into the loss of privacy that happens to public figures? It's not like there is a papparazzi hunting down information on me, rather, there are webbots that are scanning the Internet for nouns they can index. Much like a reporter or shutter bug who is looking for an image for factoid that they can sell to feed the machine that, in turn, feed them through a paycheck. Hmmm... more to think about.

Weird Day -- End in Sight

The absolutely best part about having a weird day, or this case, a weird weekend, is that there is an end in sight. All I have to do is fall asleep and POOF! The weekend is over. And this camper will be happier to see it end.

Nothing horrible happened, just weird stuff. Being nearly stood up for dinner on Friday night was strange. My friend thought that she would just make an unscheduled stop without letting me know, leaving me standing at the restaurant for 45 minutes. The first 15 were my fault for arriving early, but the remaining minutes were definitely her fault. Grrrrrr. No apology, either. She didn't think she had done anything wrong.

I broke the mug that has been holding my toothbrush and paste in the bathroom for YEARS. I was trying to pick up, and somehow knocked it over. Of course, there was a chance it could have landed straight on the carpeted floor, and bounced, but nooooooooo..... it hit the edge of the counter and shattered. I still have some glass to pick up and need to run the vacuum in there, again.

I got behind this week for my client, and I was planning to work like crazy this weekend to get back on schedule. But their server was down, so no luck. I ended up not being able to work. I suppose there is a silver lining in that -- I had the weekend off, but since I didn't know up front I had it off, I was near the computer the whole weekend, checking about once an hour to see if it was back. It came back about 6 pm, and that was too late for me to start working. Oh well... tomorrow is Monday.

Skooch nearly strangled himself. He was sitting on the back of the futon, playing with the cords from the miniblinds, when he jumped through them, and somehow, they were wrapped around his neck. I'm just grateful that I was home and in the same room. His feet didn't reach the ground, and there were huge chunks of fur torn out by the time I got him free. He's ok, but he has been avoiding the futon ever since.

I'm not in a very good mood, either. It must be really bad if I am noticing it, because usually I always think I'm in a great mood until something happens. Nothing has happened, and I can tell I'm a bit cranky.

I really have a need to talk. I feel like I've got this backlog of things on my heart and mind, things that I just want to talk about. Nothing serious, I just feel backlogged and disconnected a bit. I'm imagining myself as a clogged toilet that just wants to spew! That image brought a weak laugh, more of a hummmmph.

The new episode of Sex and the City made me cry. I think that is what I love about that show, it touches me. Sometimes I laugh, and lots of times I cry. I've been thinking about the show and its writing a lot lately. The show seems totally unreal to me, in one sense. I can't imagine myself having three friends who are so different who do so much together. Maybe there are people like that, but it's not real life for my world. But what is totally believable is the commentary they make about issues and glimpses into their lives. While I don't believe that people have friends like that, I do believe the conversations represent real positions, real opinons, and real feelings about the issues. They cover each topic so well, I never find myself wanting to scream out a different opinion at the TV set, which is a good thing, especially for my neighbors. They already have the different opinions. And there is a level of honesty between them, mixed with enough friendship compassion that the friendships seem real to me.

I overheard a conversation Thursday night that I think would make the best first act of a movie. I'm thinking about mapping out some plot and characters to fill it out. Who knows... I may have just started my next screenplay, the one that gets sold and put into production. Wouldn't that be fabulous.

Speaking of fabulous, I just discovered the Cold Feet is playing on Bravo very early on Saturday mornings. Now, I've got the motivation to figure out how to record off of the digital cable, and to get everything set up, including buying some tapes. I've searched the Internet for a place to buy the DVDs for Region 1, but no such luck.

Movie Reviews

I've seen a bunch of movies lately, and with the hopes that I can save some of you from parting with your cash needlessly, here are my opinions of them:

Men in Black II: Loved the original. The sequel doesn't suck, but lacks the uniqueness that was so charming in the original.
Road to Perdition: I was dragged to this one, having no desire to see it. But it was good, amazingly good. Road trip, redemption, plus all of the plot twists.
Minority Report: Not a Cruise fan, but still liked this movie. He doesn't do any of his pretty-boy preening. Interesting concept (thank you, Speilberg).
The Bourne Identity: I read the book YEARS ago, and loved it. Matt is fabulous, lots of action, and plenty of plot twists.
Sum of All Fears: I usually enjoy Clancy movies. Ben fills Harrison's shoes nicely. But the scene where the bomb goes off -- I choked. It was too close to 11 September for me to see that scene. I considered leaving after that, but stayed and was distracted through the end. Otherwise, it is a great movie, and at another time, I would have loved it.
Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood: I read the book. The movie is better than the previews where they slam the phones (which isn't in the book). A predictable plot, but so full of twists and interesting things that I wasn't bored. The best kind of chick flick, directed by the writer of "Thelma & Louise" and the writer/director of "Something To Talk About."
Lord of the Rings: I could never finish the book, even though I tried several times, because of all of the details and plot twists that required careful reading. But the movie is very easy to watch, and the places they go are visually amazing. Great story. Count me in for the sequels.

Movies I'm planning to see:
Windtalkers
Spider Man
My Big Fat Greek Wedding
K-19
Austin Powers

Why Would Someone Do That?

I'm sitting here at the computer doing something mindless while my mind and heart are quite busy working through an issue. And it occurs to me that maybe writing about it will help me process it. Duh.

I have a friend, someone I really enjoy and appreciate, and someone who doesn't quite feel the same way about me. I believe this because this person always lets a long time go between our get togethers. Yes, she is busy, and yes, she runs her life according to a set of priorities that facilitate her goals, but I don't sense that she excludes everyone like she does me. I also feel this way because several months ago I told her that I would really enjoy it if we got together on a more regular schedule, like meeting for dinner every other week or so. She didn't come out and say no, but she never got back to me to set it up.

At the time, my feelings were hurt slightly for a short time, but I really got over it quickly. We have a nice connection, but perhaps it couldn't withstand that much contact. I'm not afraid of that, in fact, I would welcome fast tracking the relationship, or any relationship for that matter, to see how it holds up and what it has to offer. I suspect that most of the people who cross my path are the temporary kind of friend, people who match me because at the moment we are in synch because of harmonious life lessons we are working through. But that we have little long term potential. I've learned to accept these small gifts of friendship for what they are, and to not expect more of them. Well, perhaps I'm still learning that part of it.

About a week ago, I received a nice note from this person suggesting that we get together this week for dinner. As I read it, I knew that it wouldn't happen. In fact, I barely read the note, I just skimmed it, because something about it didn't engage with me. That is why I believed it wouldn't happen. Almost like I could feel it wasn't part of my future. And tonight, half way through the week were supposed to get together, I get a follow up email listing several reasons why she can't get together, and very nicely asking my indulgence on this. With an apologetic tone. I was sitting here when it came in, and I immediately, almost without thinking, sent a reply that no apology was needed, and something that I trust that we will get together when the timing is good. I sent the note and resumed my mindless working.

That is, until I realized that I was chewing on that relationship and the email conversation. I find myself nearly on the edge of tears, and asking myself why a person would apologize for a thing like this. I feel like her offer to get together must be coming from some sort of sense of obligation, not out of a real desire to get together. There is a small ache of realization that this person isn't the friend I had hoped she would be, small because I didn't have big expectations, and because I really do a decent job of not trying to push things. Well, don't ask Paul if he agrees with that statement... but maybe he has seen me at my worst. Maybe the most honest thing I can say is that I strive to be a person who accepts what other people offer without expecting any more, without being disappointed with what they can do, and without feeling either hurt or angry when the connection breaks or fails to materialize along its own projection.

At one point, I knew that the loss is truly hers. I don't mean that in an arrogant way... just confirming that I'm not missing anything that doesn't naturally arrive at my feet from the waves that the universe continually delivers to me. And then, my heart sits on the edge of tears, and I feel my chakra wide open and feeling fully -- but like a young bird, I'm looking down while trying to fly, which is always the surest way to fall down.

I have been going through a time where the clutter of social engagements and people is absent from my life. It's easy when it is missing to regard it more highly than I do when it is present. It's not as fulfilling as I might remember it right now. There is something very nice about having a lot of people around, but when things are tough, when I really need a friend to lend a hand, many of the people taking up space are conveniently missing in action. And while I try to understand that with the same wisdom, I also feel a bit of a pang, a longing for a human connection that truly can withstand the trials of living. Like every other human heart, I'm looking for a true love. But I know, as surely as I'm sitting here, that even when that arrives in my life, as I believe that it will, it will have a beginning and an end. People die even if they always choose to stay, even if things are always good. In life, we are always truly alone, even though we have times of sharing, sometimes great levels of sharing. In the end, the start of life and the end of life are solitary journeys. So walking a solitary path for a while today isn't all that odd or unexpected.

I'm not angry with this person. I might be a little disappointed, but I'll work that through. And when she does show up and want to get together, I will enjoy the time we spend, and enjoy the process of bouncing ideas off each other.

Ah, I'm getting it now. I just understood my relationship needs in a new way. This is the person I want to be in all of my relationships: I don't want to be a person who uses my relationships to practice my own position, or to solidify my own beliefs. I have nothing to argue, and no points to make. Instead, I want to be a person who takes advantage of relationships as a place where I can listen to things I would never had thought of on my own, and through the sharing of ideas and feelings, reach places of thought and emotion that I would never have chosen alone. I want my relationships to bring a richness to my inner life, much like spices change the character of meals I fix. I want to always be open to trying new ideas, and to focus on listening more than talking. I want to hear the humanity pouring through the words people speak at me. I want to explore the wider range of human experience than my solitary life allows. I want to be inside that vortex of energy and observe what I can see floating about on the ocean, things that arrive at my own feet as well as things that I can see on their way to other people.

I Can't Believe What Just Happened

I've always had a baby face. When I was in college, I was carded at R movies, which my dates thought was hilarious, but was a real drag at bars. I was even carded until I was almost 30. I remember once I made a bet with a date that I would be carded if we stopped. I won that bet.

So imagine my shock tonight when I stopped at my neighborhood Ross store and the perky 20-year-old clerk asked me if I was a member of their Tuesday Club. No, I haven't heard of it. Well, if I'll just tell her my age, whisper it she says, I can save an extra 10% on my purchase. That twirp thought I was over 55 and was offering me their Senior Citizen discount! My jaw dropped open, and the people in line behind me gave me a look like they could tell I wasn't that old. I'm only 43.

I just sat in my truck and pondered how this could have happened. Here I am, feeling very powerful physically in my life because of my ongoing health goals and progress, feeling very alive and comfortable in my own skin, and some clerk thinks I'm a senior. Last month, the eye doc wrote me a prescription for bi-focals without asking me if I wanted them. (I didn't, I got reading glasses instead.) How can such diverse and polar opposites be part of my experience at the same time, feeling so great about myself and having other people comment on my age. What kind of a vibe am I putting out that people are reading as "old." Maybe it is my newfound wisdom. My gawd, there isn't even noticable gray in my light brown hair. I'm still pre-menopausal. I'M NOT OLD!!!

Period of Mourning

For many days now, I've been wanting to write here, but I have felt paralyzed by a sense of respect for my last entry. As if writing about the mundane goings on would dilute the powerful things I was feeling when I wrote that. In the last two days, I've come to see this as a sort of mourning period. And while Linda's friendship, life and death have changed me, I still have my life to live. Things are still happening to me, things that I want to record for myself so I can see some of the patterns in my life. So I'm back.

Learning From Life

Several years ago, I realized that my job in life is to be student. By watching the world around me, I realized that I could learn many lessons through observation, things in my own life as well as in other people's lives. Often, when things are going on in my own life, my emotions distract me from seeing the important things, like things that happen at the same time, and events that are part of a pattern. Keeping a journal does help me to be more observant and more objective about my own life, but it is still difficult. It's much easier to see things in other people's lives. The challenge, however, is to look without judging, to simply observe events as they unfold, and pay attention to the patterns.

Several years ago, I met a woman through an unusual set of circumstances. She was in town to work with a sort of personal growth facilitator, someone I had worked with. He asked me if I would be willing to put her up at my home for a few days. She had planned to begin her drive back to Seattle immediately, but he felt it would be best for her to spend a few days, to have some down time so she could regroup before expending the energy to drive back. Without hesitation, I agreed. It was the start of a wonderful friendship.

Linda was a banking attorney who had quit her stressful job just before her bank was aborbed by another bank in the merger frenzy that went on in the mid-90s. She was a couple of years older than me, and like me, was exploring the spiritual aspect of her life. Her explorations lead her to the same facilitator I had found. Linda's dream was to write a book about her experience, and so she fastidiously kept a journal of her journey, another link between us. She wanted to write a book that would help all of the "normal" people out there who suddenly discovered the mystical side of their life, like she had. She had always been skeptical of things religious and anything outside of normal events of life. The fact that she was working with a shaman in the desert was incongruous with her past, but part of the natural progression of steps she had taken in response to her life experiences. Like me, Linda was beginning to trust her own experiences more than her ideas.

Perhaps because we came from professional worlds, perhaps because we were similar in age, perhaps because we had found the same facilitator... whatever the reason, Linda and I connected. During her time with me, she was open and we shared meaningful conversation, in spite of her recent work and her naturally reserved nature. When she left, she promised to keep in touch, and invited me to spend time with her in Seattle. I took her up on both counts. I spent 5 days in Seattle with her a year later, exploring the town that she loved, visiting the galleries full of northwest Native tribal art. She took me to see the salmon jumping up the locks. We wanted to explore Whidby Island, but ran out of time and good weather. I scheduled a return trip a year later, but a sudden illness caused me to cancel it on the day I was supposed to leave. When I was better, my work schedule was hectic, and so we postponed rescheduling the trip.

Our friendship thrived over the phone, with conversations that ran longer than either of us expected, often longer than the deadlines we had set for financial reasons. Later, we supplemented the calls with lengthy emails. We shared a core outlook on life, and a similar set of experiences, that allowed us to see things in complimentary ways. We had similar challenges in our lifes, and we were able to see things in the other's life, and point them out with great tenderness and honesty. Linda and I shared the best kind of friendship I have had the pleasure of knowing. We had the kind of intimacy that happens when people open their hearts and their souls touch. Linda was one of my soul sisters in this life.

When I met Linda, her breast cancer was in remission. One of the great focuses of her life and personal growth work was to get to the heart of that experience, something she shared with her mother who had contracted the cancer when she was Linda's age. The similarities were overwhelming to Linda. She faced herself and her future with a steely determination, and didn't flinch when the path became littered with metaphysical significance and extra sensory events. Linda set out to explore the invisible world of her own life, and sought to understand its connections to the intimate physical world of her own body.

When Linda told me that her cancer had returned, I was shocked and panicked. She was the first person in my world to have cancer, and the first friend that I had facing death. Vicariously, this challenged me to look at my own death in a more real way, with the sting of her situation flowing over into mine. I purchased a small semi-precious stone carved into a heart, and engraved with the word "courage" for her. I also made her a medicine basket necklace, selecting colors and materials intiutively that I trusted would support her in this phase of her journey. That was four years ago.

In many ways, and in spite of my immediate shock, I was not surprised about Linda's condition. I knew that she struggled with the similarities between her life and her mother's life, and I knew that she believed there was a significance, an importance, to the echo of the illness in her own life. We talked directly about the possibility that focusing on it with that mindset could became a causative agent in its appearance in her own life. I always felt that Linda believed that she would die from the same disease as her mother, at the same age her mother had been. Even after Linda outlived her mother, I felt that Linda thought she was on borrowed time.

But the most amazing thing I observed in Linda's life was something that I only know from having lived in her home. Linda had purchased a small bungalow style home in the Seattle suburb of Ballard. The house had a single story with a basement, and set up on a hill. You had to climb steps to reach the front door, and her driveway had a steep slope with high retaining walls near the sidewalk. Linda had recently redecorated her home to reflect the changes in her life, and to more fully express her personality. Her style was a conservative modern, with traditional elements and clean lined upholsetered pieces. There was a sense of family history around her. Linda loved Pegasus and unicorns, and had a pair of crystal sculptures of them on her mantle, a tribute to the spiritual fire that was lit in her own heart.

One day, while Linda was out taking her daily walk, she asked me to carry some boxes to her basement. She had one of those old staircases like my Grandma had. Her basement was partly finished, with rooms and walls, but it wasn't available for living space. Instead, Linda had filled each of the rooms with boxes. They lined the walls to about waist height, and spilled into the center of the rooms. Even the hallway was lined with boxes. I was shocked to see this, and immediately had an image: A neat and tidy upstairs for public view, while underneath it is a swarming mess of personal baggage. The metaphor was so powerful it stunned me. I remember walking around in disbelief in her basement, unable to get past the image in my own mind. I knew that this basement held a secret about Linda's life, that there were shadows and things left unexplored inside of her. Like so many of us, Linda had skeletons in her closet, a whole basement full of them. Later, I would see the boxes and dust of her basement become cancer cells as it metastasized throughout her lungs, internal organs, and brain.

During her chemo treatments, Linda's basement flooded, leaving a garden of molds growing in her basement. It amazes me to this day that even after her illness had taken its toll, Linda was being given another chance to sort through her issues and set her basement in order. She hired a company to come in, and I know that many things were thrown away. In our conversations, Linda told me later that the mold was resolved. I always wondered how much of the sorting she was able to do, and I trusted that in some way, Linda was starting to put her life in order.

For several years, Linda published a rather perky newsletter to her friends, updating us on her illness and her battle. She was no longer up to having company, so my trip was never rescheduled. We still spoke frequently. About a year ago, I asked Linda if she was interested in writing a column for my journal writing website, or even one article, about her experiences with her own journal as she converted it to a book, or her newsletter which became a public journal of her health and wellness. At first she resisted the idea because she felt she had nothing to say. After a bit of talking, she realized that she did have a lot of say, and promised me to think about it. We talked about it often, but Linda never wanted to invest the time in such a project. I felt gratified that my job in making the offer had been successful--to help her to see her contributions to world were significant, and to feel that she had things to say that others would benefit from hearing. I wish today that my world had received even one of her articles, as it would be a piece of Linda that I could hold in my hand today. It is enough that we talked about the idea of it.

Althought she considered several things, Linda never returned to work. She didn't have the heart for the corporate world any longer, and other legal occupations didn't capture her imagination as a place where she could express the things that mattered most to her. I don't know how she supported herself through these years. I always hoped that her family was well off and that they were helping her. She had hoped to finish her book in the first year, and then in the second year, and thought that would provide an income for her. Her book only made it to rough draft form.

A week ago, I had a growing awareness that I hadn't heard from Linda, along with a knowing that Linda was in the last days of her battle. I don't know how I knew this, but I knew it as surely as I can touch the desk before me. I also felt that it was not a good time for me to call her, even though that impulse ran through me several times. Instead, when I felt that urge, I would send a message of love to her telepathically. I felt connected to her, and even though I never sensed a message coming back, I knew my heart was heard. Last Sunday, I received an email that my friend, my soul sister, was no longer fighting her cancer. I've cried a few times. I've tried to write this several times, but the words and emotions were all mixed up. I thought about creating a memorial in my possessions for Linda, only to realize with pain that I don't have a picture of her, and the image of her face is leaving me. I have so many memories of Linda, conversations with her while sitting on my couch, while sitting on her dining room floor, while driving around Seattle. I feel such a connection to the courage heart and the necklace... gifts that came from my heart to hers, strings that connect our hearts even today. I know you are watching me write this, Linda, and that you see my tears. And I see in your eyes that you know I'm not sad for you, that I am happy for you, happy to have known you, and happy to have been allowed to learn so much by observing your life at close range. Bless you, Linda. I'll see you soon, I know.