I Haven't Been Called One In Person But I've Seen One On TV

Whitney Houston and Mariah Carey come to mind. Patti LaBelle, Aretha Franklin, Barbra Streisand, and Celine Dion. Taking broader strokes, one can brush-in Barbara Walters and Diane Sawyer; Oprah Winfrey and Whoopie Goldberg. I'd go so far as to add Katherine Hepburn and Meryl Streep. I'm talking about diva-hood. Being a diva. Diva-licious. D-I-V-A: a woman who inhabits the space about her with a rarity of presence, an outstanding sense of her talent, the ability to own who she is despite what the world or anyone else dictates. The women I've suggested are examples from popular culture for the most part, both present and a bit further behind us, but they are not the only players on the field. They just happen to receive a lion's share of the exposure in the world.

Divas come in a range of shapes, sizes, and colors; they cross socio-economic boundaries and exhibit gifts and fineness of character beyond mere entertainment value. Divas are the 'every-woman' who manage to engage life beyond the parameters of just 'any-woman.' The word 'diva' comes from the Latin 'divus' which means 'divine.' Dictionary.com defines the basic sense of the term as "goddess" or "fine lady." Though it once narrowly defined a phenomenal operatic singer, often with the negative connotation of being difficult to handle, the word now enjoys regular use by all manner of people on television, in the workplace, between women getting together at Bunco or meeting for their kids' play dates. It has evolved into a handy and simple tool for empowering sister-friends in their daily lives as they try to recall what it is they want to do in the midst of what they have to do.

I've personally never been accused of being a diva. Never been labeled as thus. Not had the term used to tie my unique personal aspects to my talents and drive. Until recently, that is.

You see, I am an 'Earth Diva.' Well, maybe in-training. Me and three other truly fine and phenomenal women of high caliber in the faith, character, and strength department. I consider myself to be a junior member at 39, lower in the pecking order but not loved any less nor considered any less significant. My lack of seniority is a measurement device of my own making to allow for the growth curve I've yet to experience in relation to these gracious and gregarious gals. I don't deny that I've gained considerable knowledge from the events of my life - in many large and small ways I'm an old soul; however, I've yet to pin down that elusive be-still-and-let-it-stick quality which each of these women seem to possess.

(My children, all teenagers, God love 'em, don't grasp the finer points of my status as an Earth Diva. They balk, guffaw, and roll their eyes in amused exasperation at what they perceive to be a bunch of ageing ladies attempting to be cool. Any time I actually verbalize our name, my middle child puts her hand in the air - a veritable STOP sign - and exclaims, "Mom! Don't . . . stop talking. That is so gay!" **'Gay' has undergone several wardrobe changes in its history; kids today intend 'gay' to reflect an inherent level of stupidity associated with a person, action, etc.** I'm not in the least offended. If they understood it, what would be the point?)

We met in the most traditional of Southern institutions, the Baptist church, albeit a very non-traditional branch of the Baptist church - perhaps located on the outer edge of the Baptist umbrella. (This makes the 'divine' origin of diva most appropriate in my mind.) During the standard ladies' retreats and picnic outings, we found ourselves gravitating one to the other. (Two of the E.D.'s were close friends, as were their families, years before I ever set foot on the doorstep of the church.) Before long, we began scheduling outings to discover out-of-the-way coffee shops with photogenic sweeps of lush Tennessee landscape; we visited farmers' markets to admire and purchase lovely fruits and vegetables, all the while chatting it up with the sellers; we packed refreshingly creative lunches to suit our individual likes and needs as we explored how best to treat our bodies, delving into the dark world of darkest chocolates, health food stores, goat's-milk cheeses, and herbal teas. After one particularly memorable day - I seem to recall a green sea of potted plants spilling from the back of one vehicle - all of us a bit wilted in body but energized in spirit, our most exalted artistic member suggested we adopt a name for our motley crew. As our interests - gardening, food, health, family, faith - seemed to stem from a desire to learn how better to care for the creation around us and within us, it didn't take long to agree upon a moniker . . . and the Earth Divas were born. We snapped a group picture to commemorate the occasion.

After almost two years of communing with nature, ourselves, and our Lord, we graduated to a somewhat regular practice of meeting at a fantastic local coffee shop with terrific ambiance and an upbeat, granola-ish owner given to wearing long flowing gypsy-like skirts and wavy cascades of naturally gray hair. Once there, once breathless hello's and gushes of mutual admiration flow from our lips, once we settle our initial beverage purchases and pick our seats around the small square table, we prepare for a world where CRACK is used often and safely; PUNGS, CHOWS, and KONGS rule the roost; and, DOTS, BAMS, and WINDS play peacefully, albeit a touch clackingly, with FLOWERS and DRAGONS. It is the new-to-me Asian game of Mah Jongg, where I look forward to having my wind pung-ed as often as possible!

We don't keep score. Not yet anyway. Though we are able to congregate for several hours, oft times attempting to make an entire day of it, we lack the concentrated intensity, discipline, focus, and competitive spirit necessary to parlay a few languid and lo-o-ong hands into an actual full game or two or three. Depending upon what rules are used, up to 16 hands must be played before a game can be considered done! Good golly, I say. We stop in between hands, during hands, to take photographs OF hands. We stop for potty breaks, food breaks, discussion breaks, visitor breaks - our various children have made guest appearances as have curious onlookers wondering what, pray tell, were we up to? - and I can count on maybe one or two fingers if I'm honest, how many times we plowed through one entire hand. The game is splendid in its own right, but it is a vehicle, really, for the perpetuation and practice of further Earth Diva-ery.

These women, this trio of ladies, they are a solid addition to my stable of lifelong friends. They fall into that category of people one meets in a lifetime who would continue in the heart and mind if ever a physical move facilitated the break-up of the group. I would remain sure as to their admiration and affection for me if ever a time came where we did not enjoy this customary coming-together, so confident am I of their devotion to friendship and the sisterhood of the divinely inspired. Being a collector of words, especially keen on possible clever and quirky titles for books, poems, chapters of books, articles, etc., I have an eye and an ear for the unusual, the unexpected, the unbearably humorous. Mannerisms and speechisms enthrall me. In my purse, there is an ever present notebook for scribbling and scrawling as the spirit moves me. Much like a good book or a memorable movie, these women have me pulling out the little spiral bound quote collector more often than not. They are just THAT good!

Besides inspiring today's title, my bevy of gal pals and their generous exchanges spark other festive utterances which engendered ribbons of inky happiness for my pen and paper. "Bust A Funky" (courtesy of other friend's actually being quoted by the E.D.'s) and "Hoebags and Hoecakes" come to mind. Of course, the confabs from which these word collections spring are the true stars. But, we don't have all day in this blog to dig into those delicious dishes of dialogue. Suffice it to say, we cover the deep and the wide, the shallow and narrow, the pain, angst, suffering, confusion, joy, wonder, awe, and a myriad rainbow more, well enough, thorough enough, just enough, to get us by until next we meet.

I am sustained by the faces of my fine ladies and the aspects of all women which they so brilliantly, and very naturally, convey via their earned diva-hood: my chic and elegant lady of the soft spoken Southern drawl and gentle nature, most beautiful bookworm of fathomless empathy; my matter-of-factly, oh-so-exactly, problem-solving, deliverer-of-dry-humor, tell-it-like-it-is aficionado of desserts, mysteries, and the theater; and, last, but certainly never the least of these, my patron pixie muse of the arts, gay-giggler and onetime 'radial-kay-er' (inside joke - think hearing-impaired misinterprets eager cheerleader), in-house-visual-whimsy-specialist. As to my own aspects, how they would encapsulate me is unclear though methinks 'special toothpicker' might show up somewhere. How I was ever allowed into their ranks is beside the point. That I am there is everything. It is one of those sure things which tells me there is a God and He most definitely loves me.