BB Webb as BB Webb!

Exploring the Possibilities

Woman-kind. A gift doubled and squared! January 4, 2011

Three generations! Lucky me!

Our nuclear family, as we all know, is not what Ozzie and Harriet portrayed in the 50s….not one bit. I own and run a special event venue…..a lovely one in fact. I get teary with each bride I send down the aisle….hopeful that what they are putting out to the Universe, hopes, dreams what-have-you….might blister….bad word, unfold with beauty and ease.

More often than not, the unfolding of any relationship HAS its blisters. Yep, part of the learning curve. Our options though are numerous (as women) compared to the days when Mr. Cleaver, “Beaver’s Dad’, ran the roost.

Last evening I spent my time with a cackle (the words bouncing in my head this evening surprise me)….I meant that in the most affectionate terms, me one of the ‘cacklers’….a cackle of women related through love, chance encounters, marriage, divorce.

Sweet Emily....from 8 years old to 21 in a blink!

Pictured below is my former husband’s other former wife, (we call one another ‘wife in laws’) and his mother, in the pretty bow….and his former wife’s (not me, the other one), mother and my lovely step daughter who will always be my step daughter. A finer group of women I’ve chance to meet.

Oh....the places we've gone, the places we'll go!

We have one man in common who is ‘Dad’, ‘son’, ‘son-in-law’, was ‘husband’ now ‘former husband’ to us separately. He brought us all together. I’m grateful for these big hearts who welcomed me into their fold. I welcome their friendship as my relationship with the father of her children, the son to his mom, the Daddy to one precious child and son-in-law, shifted places and roles in my world. These ladies, their love toward me….I’ve found is not conditional. Wow! Nooooo, really, WOW!

These are women big of heart, loving despite their own trials and to me very, very special indeed.

Hats off to the ladies who lunch, dinner, drink and stay together! You are always and forever welcome, whereever I am.

With love,

BB Webb


The Many Parts of We September 20, 2010

BB and her brother's friend Joey Shine....18, 19 years old...and with my dog Kate. There should always be a they have SO much to teach us! Fearlessness for one!

I am considering this evening the many parts of we….all of us, me, the people I know, the ones I know well, others not so, and the new ones gracing my world who I’m eager to know better…..then I consider, that less confident side of myself….’.if I don’t muck up!’ Quite a comment for an otherwise confident person.

Oh the many parts of we.

When something good comes in, I find it hard to consider losing it….funny when we’ve been forever without it. Like the sound of a new song, the taste of something pleasurably new, a touch you’ve not felt, as soon as you’ve had it, going without seems as though it might break your heart.

I’m considering how clear certain people seem, about life, about themselves, confident, complicated perhaps but having learned ways to deal with their own complexities. And I consider my own complexities and defense structures that I’ve not yet learned to manage as well as I might. My world has layers. My heart has the most….perhaps for all of us.

And in certain situations I listen to the words coming from my mouth and I wonder, ‘why or where did THAT come from’…..a jagged comment, a mask to what’s really behind and it disarms me…..usually after its done its damage, and later on, when the ridiculous-ness of that moment in time hits me, and usually quite hard, I wish I would have not reacted so quickly, thoughtlessly.

Behind our masks are places as tender as an oyster’s belly. And should those places be nurtured and cared for, with hearts willing to embrace all our edges, pieces and moments, oooh the pearl that might develop.

And if I could but meditate quietly, or with Osho’s tapes, moving dancing, shaking lose the pieces which jump in to sabotage, hide, or inhibit the lovely vulnerability which we are, oh the miracles which might unfold.

Funny how at 20 I didn’t think about these things. There was less to seemingly defend.

Even funnier, it’s the same now as it was then…though life and our experience of it makes us forget. So, I’m having a little talk with myself about it all and hope I’ll listen. White knuckles….I’m on pins and needles!

I should have been a dog!

BB Webb


Dig Deeper… July 19, 2010

for your passion….for your heart….let it rip….and then rip some more.

Thank you Janis.

BB Webb


Dreamer? Romantic?? Me??? September 26, 2009

Photo by Lori Suzanne photography

Photo by Lori Suzanne photography

Well, I am the person who just wrote about the challenge of my constant distractions.

Photo by Sarah Eubanks photography

Photo by Sarah Eubanks photography

Yes, I am, (a dreamer….), I love to create cool stuff, can spend hours and hours in contemplation or writing about all manner of things, (useful or not), concocting adventures for sure, and entertainments, certainly dinner soirees with what I feel are interesting, fun people, imagining ‘neat’ stuff; I get lost in great films, (watch them over and over), I love romance, adore big hearted, smart, manly, open minded, FUN, passionate men, (who have their own interests and share some of mine).

I crumble when I see things of beauty, movies and stupid Hallmark Card commercials. And don’t even think of getting me to watch the public announcements around pets in need. I’m inconsolable for at least a day. I believe in the idea of marriage though am well aware of its challenges and the complex and difficult culture we live in, the impact of our ridiculous media, our interpretations of what ‘love’ ‘should’ be and the limitations of being human, male versus female, and living for 70 plus years, certainly with one partner. That’s another Blog. I don’t share the beliefs of many, but I’ve only lived in my skin, so I’m limited.

And yes, I am often disappointed by moment to moment ‘reality’ yet encouraged daily by the next moment around the bend.

Then today, while doing the interminable edits needed on most any evolving business website, (and FYI, we have a brand, spanking, shiny new one coming in about 2 months),

Photo by Lori Suzanne photography

Photo by Lori Suzanne photography

I was editing our Carl House website and viewed again the lovely work of Steve Schumacher. He is a visiting videographer to Carl House and created a three minute video of a beautiful wedding at Carl House.

Steve used Colbie Caillat’s song ‘Magic’, which frankly, rips me up every damn time I listen to it. It’s so fun to be ‘in love’, despite all the potential ‘work’ involved. I like work that leads to something better….that goes somewhere!

If you need a memory of why you got married perhaps, or the possibility of things to come, watch Steve’s video, it’s full of so much love and hope and well, I think it shares a lovely sentiment. And topped with Colbie Caillat’s sweet song….good Lord, bring a hankie!

When I think about it, nothing much else matters but love….being loving. I mean that. Learning how, there’s the rub. And I mean to ourselves as well. How well do you love on YOU? Take care of YOU?? There is always this and then the next moment to practice. Every day a new opportunity. I like that.

Life on this planet is just too short to not be fulfilled in the ways we all imagine and deserve. So go for it says I….love on, love on!! Oh, and I hope you’ll share your stories of how well you did!

(And yes, all the above photos were taken at the lovely Carl House)!

BB Webb


When is loving just not so… September 21, 2009

I have something I’m wrangling with today…the notion of how to really love well. I was thinking today about how mothers or fathers, husbands, wives, in an effort to ‘take care of’ each other, children, often love ‘too well’ or really not well at all when they steal the opportunity for another to find their way.


I’m sometimes summed up, mostly by male people, as, ‘you don’t need anyone, you’re independent’. Well yes, I am independent, but not needing anyone…certainly not. I’m human….to the core and marrow. I know how to take care of myself, and, when I’m being a savvy leader, provide for myself and take care of my debts, but not needing anyone, hardly. Ask my friends. They know. Good God they know.

Though here is where I tilt my head with quandary. I like the idea of interdependence. We need one another to thrive, to become further who we are. We need others to help reflect who we are back to ourselves. I know this. I have good reflectors in my life at this point in time, that was not always so.

However, I see parents, and spouses, ‘caretaking’ and that is different. Only the needy, the ones disabled, the sick, babies, small children, animals we adopt, need caretaking. A wife who is provided for may never learn if she married young, how to provide and discover her abilities for herself. And what a sad thing that is. And as she grows older, not feeling at home in her skin, it is her spouse she will reflect anger toward, not even knowing why. Please consider my intent with this thought and example…

I am aware of the keen difference between ‘caretaking’ and ‘supporting’ another. I choose to be supportive though choose not to care-take those whose right it is to learn how to care for themselves. That to me is more loving. Co-dependence serves no one.

I’d fuuuuume when my mother would dive into the brownie batter just as I was struggling and near to getting the lumps out. She would take over and I’d miss my chance to find out how good I could be, how able I was.



We do this with our children, don’t we! In an effort to move things along, get the job done, hurry along…we mess with their process of ‘becoming’. A good teacher is a rare person to find. I’ve had only a few REALLY good teachers…masters, despite their perfect flaws, which they all had. (And that was good for me to experience as well. Their humanity made the teachings more relevant).

It feels good to earn our stripes, to test our meddle, to become exhausted with our efforts to do well. It is essential for growth.

I am earning and have earned many stripes and I imagine will until I’m gray headed, (though you’ll never know I am as red will be my badge of courage).

There is something to be said for the struggle. There is no adventure without struggle. And, I must remind myself that I am all for adventure. So, tally ho indeed.

I’ve quoted, (paraphrased) Mr. Jung before, ‘love is the process of GENTLY guiding someone into themselves.’ I relish the ‘gently’. That is loving. There is enough harshness in our world. Gently is good.

Love to you and those you love and peace to my tormenters, always. You make me more of who I am becoming and I thank you for that…I deeply thank you for that.

BB Webb


Navigating anew September 3, 2009

Blue Atlas Cedar

Blue Atlas Cedar

I was leaving work this evening around 7pm, the beginning of autumn promising crisp, starry nights, (a harbinger friend of fall told me so), sweaters and robust red wine drunk on my porch with a fire blazing, a must at my home. (One of my favorite things to do with people I care about).

So yes, there I was walking out from a day, a week, a month, oh, really a year of so much. The tipping point has indeed come and suddenly I am noticing that just as my GPS failed to work this week, (for once I got the extended warranty and it paid off), but that I have needed to ‘navigate anew’, as the old pathways don’t work anymore. Of course it broke!! You can’t follow the same maps when you are going somewhere new! Any road warrior knows that….and I’m certainly a traveler in life this particular ‘go ’round’.

Similarly, as I shared in an earlier post, I dropped my old PC on my wooden stairs, and though she seemed to crumble into a hundred small pieces, she was not gone altogether and limped along til I got my new Apple Pro. Yet such irony.

My old operating system was petering out, my GPS failed….truly signs and symbols to what is occurring on a grander scale. When I am awake I see these things….and I endeavor to be just that. My evening slumber only fuels me to work another day to stay awake.

So, this week the compass turned a notch more and I could feel my sails billow with excitement, much as I do when I feel the crisp hint of fall or the clean clarity of a new direction, with the right energy wrapping its arms around me like a fuzzy sweater. You can feel it, it’s a ‘vibe’ thing. And the new vibes are rolling in like eager waves to the shore.

And as I walked from my lovely Carl House to the car, through the vibrant, twilight gardens, there he was, my tall and handsome Blue Atlas Cedar. He’s been with me all these years, steadfast and true unlike any lover I’ve known. He’s a friend of the truest kind. He is there as I come and go, reliable, a witness, a champion, there for me to rest beneath or just admire. Steadfast. Strong. He wears no mask, plays no games, he is just there. Not judging, just present. There. Regardless my mood, whether I notice him, in all kinds of weather. I feel his warmth, acceptance, love really.

I find this comforting as I navigate anew. If I could wrap my arms entirely around my Blue Atlas Cedar, I would, in thanks and with deep gratitude. Instead it’ll be my intent and he’ll know. We’re just that close.

It’s the little things that make the grandiose possible, my big dreams made up of these small ahas, turns in the road and the recognition of things I just hadn’t seen. It’s funny how one day, there they are. Lovely really.

BB Webb


Let it Be Sed September 1, 2009

Let it Be Sed
(To children and best friends)tough little girl

She was the sort who couldn’t sit.
She’d try,
But she couldn’t sit.

Her name was wrong.
Her parents named her Sedriana.
Sedriana Sabastiano.
Her friends called her Sed.
Others called her SS,
Some just hisssssed when they saw her go by.

But Sed couldn’t sit,
She sauntered,
She stood,
She sprinted,
She sunk,
She often swallowed hard,
She tried to sing.

Sedriana Sabastiano was on a search.
Her mother thought it was for a star,
Her Dad couldn’t figure what she was looking for,
She moved too much for him,
He got dizzy and would have to sit down when Sed was around.

Once he said to Sed, “Slow down Sed, quiet down, go to bed!”
But Sed had little time for sleep or sitting or snoozing or even sipping
the tea that her mother brought for her,
Or later that her boyfriend brought for her,
Or later that her husband brought for her,
Or later which she sometimes remembered to make for herself.

Sed was always said to be searching.
“Look,” said a neighbor once concerning Sed,
“She swims, sips, slurps, skates and sneezes always as thought she is looking, peeking, seeking and searching for something spectacular, what could it be?”

Sed was always said to be free, Intense, frantic,… sometimes frightening,
often frightened, but free.

One day when Sed was no longer a child, her friend Sally paid
her a friendship visit.
Sally was a sweet, silent, contented sort.
Sally worked from 9-5, had clean cupboards and never seemed to mind.
She served on all the local committees, raised her children bright and strong,
She and Sed were said to be the bestest of friends.

One day Sally was on her way to visit Sed, walked through the door
And Sed was on her head!
“Sed,” Sally said, “Why are you on your head?”
Sed came down,…one never talks while on her head.
Sed merely sighed and said,
“Sally,…Sally, I’m looking for a thread!”

Sally nodded and understood, put down the cookies she’d brought for Sed
and grinned and smiled with a nod of her head.
Sally understood for she loved Sed.
Sed packed her bags as Sally sat nearby and read.

Years later after having traveled far,Train
To Paris, Caracus, Toledo, Zanzibar,
Sed was on a train, munching a fig,
She wore a hat that she knew was too big.
Suddenly as the brakes on the train squealed to a stop, Sed slid
Forward and in her head went a pop.

She stood up, startled, shook her head once or twice,
And as if possessed, laughed and wept til the day turned to night.

The moon came out full and Sed sat alone,
Bouncing on the train realizing she was home.
No matter where she roamed she was home,…inside herself.
She hugged herself, her wrinkled brow softened,
Her search was alive, but her heart somehow blossomed, with a
murmur that can listen as well as be heard,
Sed found her star and bounced quietly along.

The train ran its route,
The moon flared its glow,
Sed was found quietly sitting,
As the train’s whistle did blow.

By BB Webb