All through my 20's and 30's and into my 40's I had this idea that in order to really belong to something - a group, an ideology, a neighborhood - you first had to prove yourself. You had to put in the time, the hours, the research, the commitment - and then, maybe after a few years, or maybe ten - you might finally be an established part of that community. Respected and well-thought of. And that to me seemed like the ultimate adult goal, no? I could not naively enjoy any new experience - I first had to study it, to understand it, and do it more than once before I could get real satisfaction from it, or feel that I was worthy of it. Isn't that strange?!
For instance when we first went to visit Timberline lodge on Mt. Hood I was enchanted. I could hardly walk through the huge front doors I was gawking so hard. I wanted to touch every stone in the wall, caress the wooden animals carved into the stair rails, and stare at the bear mosaic over the water fountain. But the whole time I felt like a secret intruder, as if I didn't belong. I mean, I didn't even ski! Maybe I should learn, I thought anxiously.
When all the skiers trouped in, laughing, skis over their shoulder to pile around the cozy roaring lodge fire, they seemed to really belong. When I saw the layers of ski stickers stuck to the light poles outside I thought - these people, the ones who left the stickers, belong here. They are the ones who have a history of skiing, of driving their SUV's in the snow, they have family outings in cozy cabins and lots of expensive gear. I on the other hand am a hippy child who has never skied, does not even know now to put chains on the car, and I don't own any nylon.
BUT, unlike a lot of the others I am a history nut, and Timberline lodge is a history nut's paradise. I also love nature, and the lodge is literally submerged in it. Snow buries the lodge every winter, and at 6000 feet up Mt. Hood, there is no lack of nature to be had. I also love coziness, beer, and art. All of which make me perfectly suited to spend as much time at Timberline as any seasoned skier. But the point is - you don't have to know anything about anything to enjoy yourself anywhere! Who knows if those laughing ski families were there for the first time too? Who knows if some of them hate skiing and are there for the beer and the nature? My assumptions about how they feel or what they are thinking are probably totally wrong. I've been putting a big pressure on myself that is completely unnecessary, totally draining, and pointless. It's a ridiculous way to live - always thinking others are more worthy than yourself. It's simply not true! Others are just like yourself, with the same messes, the same insecurities, the same physical issues. There is nothing to prove, except for kindness, and that includes kindness to yourself. 
I've decided the best thing is to take every moment at "face value". Literally - whatever is in your face at any given moment, is your wheelhouse. You are already the expert on your vision of the world. Nobody is as expert as you at that. We are all unique and valuable individuals walking around - every minute we are all experts and all novices.
It's so weird looking back now, but I walked around our Portland neighborhood for about eight years before I felt like a "real" resident. I was on eggshells at first, gauging the lay of the land, not wanting to make a brash and possibly offensive entrance. I didn't want any of my neighbors thinking "oh god, the new people suck". or anything like that, so I never mowed before 9am, never parked in front of anyone else's house, always pick up my dog poop, etc. Which are all good things to do, I just think I was the only one doing them.
By the time ten years had passed I finally started to feel like a "real" neighbor - I was now an upstanding, lawn-mowing homeowner who had put her child through the neighborhood schools, was on the neighborhood association's mailing list, and had local memories to spare. I thought to myself, "Finally! We have arrived!" But then suddenly - just as we were getting to be one of the "old timers" - hundreds of houses went up for sale, new condos shot up (and are still going up), and about five thousand new people moved into the neighborhood, completely changing the landscape and all of the "rules". Suddenly the real old-timers were gone. Almost totally invisible - either they sold or they are so elderly now that they are boarded up inside those beautiful craftsman houses. In their place are thousands of newcomers, and they AINT WALKIN' ON EGGSHELLS LET ME TELL YOU.
Nobody seems to care at all anymore what impact they have on neighbors. It's so loud around here with music, insane cars engines and stereos, dump trucks, moving trucks, kids, motorcycles, chickens, and that damned tamale guy who screams as he rides his moped through the neighborhood - it's each for his own and hang the rest. It's a surreal new world and I struggle not to feel too ancient and obsolete myself! It was hard, but the only way I could do it was to change my expectations. And surprisingly, that yielded an incredible result. I realized I no longer have to sweat it. None of us do! We have nothing to prove, there are no secret tests, or gold stars handed out when you "pass" them.
We already belong.
When I was a teenager I though all the cool guys were born cool. I thought they came out of the womb knowing all about the Velvet Underground and the MC5. When they talked about guitars and fuzz boxes, tube amps and reverb, it was like a secret language, made to confuse me. I was certain they had some rock and roll ancestors that taught them. I felt hopelessly inadequate in comparison, my hippie parents didn't teach me anything about the Velvet Underground, but they did teach me a lot about tofu.
Now I know all those "cool" guys were clueless dorks, just like me - it's just that they were boys and they were given guitars and guitar lessons at an early age. They clustered with other boys who had guitars and guitar lessons too, and they listened to records and read the hard-to-find music zines of the day. That's how they knew. I could have done that too, I was just busy being a hippy kid and playing with horse models. I finally got on board the music train at the age of 16, but I still felt it took me 20 more years of going to shows and playing in my own band to be taken seriously in any music conversation. And I'm sure it was all my own doing! 
Later during all those years my daughter was in school I did all the right things, proving to myself that I was a good mother. The best mother I could possibly be. I drove her and picked her up every single day, packed her healthy lunches, went to all the parent nights, conferences and performances, play dates and birthday parties. I volunteered regularly and did all the fund raisers. And over the years I went from feeling completely new kindergartner mom to feeling like a super-mom by the time she entered high school, and then....just like that it's over. The schools I worked so hard to establish myself in were filled with new kids and new parents, and suddenly the template I had been working with for eight to ten years - was obsolete! There is no graduation ceremony for the parents. No diploma, no gold watch, no severance pay, nada. Just a couple of beers in the backyard and some wistful reflection.
So - the point is and it's a good one - these are the defining moments of our lives. The ones right now. There is no "future defining moment". No award you win or promotion you receive at some future date. There is no rule saying you have to live in a neighborhood for five years before your voice matters. You don't have to study architecture to delight in the buildings that you see, you don't have to know everything about the history of rock and roll before you can be in a band, you don't have to have gone to a restaurant more than once to become a life-long fan, you don't have to know anything about bridges to take zillions of pictures of bridges and show them in an art gallery.
You just have to be. You already belong. Everything you're doing, whether it's the first time you've done it or the ten millionth - is unique. Every moment is an opportunity to define yourself and your world. You don't need to pass a cool test, you don't need to graduate from hipster high in order to feel elevated, or to appreciate to the enth degree all that life has to offer!
So now at age 51 - I think I finally get it. After all my experiences - being married for 21 years, being a step-parent and a parent, etc - I realize I've long ago "passed" my tests. For whatever it's worth I have already proven myself. I also realize that I'm the only one who cares. In fact, I almost feel as if I've been wasting a lot of time putting this weird pressure on myself to everything "right", and "work my way up in the ranks". The ranks of what? Of life? It's that kind of thinking that makes you miss life entirely, always waiting for that moment of "now I've made it!" Because by the time you feel it, it's over. So what's it all for?
With the kids out of the house now I have time to think about things, and my relationship with the world, and I feel a great relief. Along with the strange feeling that I've wasted some of my life, I also feel done with all that. I know now that we are ready - just as we are. How well the world accepts you depends on your energy in that moment. Not all the years you've already put in, what kind of child you raised, how much you make, how cool your art is, how long you've been coming to this dog park - no. Each and every moment is a new dog park. A new job. A new opportunity to create that perfect moment we all seem to be striving towards yet never reaching. It's right there. 
As my hair turns grey, age spots appear on my arms and hands and my back has me walking like someone 30 years older, I sense the fragility of life and all those stupid, pointless tests just fall away like dust. They don't matter at all. The only test is how you feel, and how you make others feel. I really think that is the simple "secret" to life, and certainly to happiness.
From now on my pledge to myself is to walk into every moment with the knowledge that I belong here. Wherever I am. And you belong here too.
xoxoxoxo Diane
