Week Fifty-One - Words won’t do...

The grief is unbearable and collective.    It’s etched on the face of our nation.   Inescapable.  You don’t even have to pick up the newspaper, turn on the television, or hook up with social media.  It’s present in the shell-shocked pain etched faces; at the gym, Christmas parties, at the grocery store, in our workplaces. Conversation is strained because “words won’t do”. I remember a special coworker wrote that in a sympathy card years ago,  when my husband passed away.  He said, “My heart is with you, because words won’t do.” That’s stuck with me all these years. 

 This vibration of the worst kind of suffering and loss is so profound, it seems to permeate any moments of creativity, my sleep, and unexpected tears well, easily.  It’s especially overwhelming as I touch my lips to the foreheads of my three precious grand-daughters and the thought passes, there are grandmothers who will never get to do that again in this earthly life.  I see it again, as my daughter hears three voices of angels, singing along in Christmas song, and turns her face to hide the sorrow.  I see it when my son-in-law holds his girls for an extra few minutes when he walks through the door, and they greet him with squeals of “Daddy!”  I feel myself slipping into  it when I  look at the Christmas tree and my eyes get lost in imagining the incomprehensible.  Along with it there is immense gratitude for those kisses, voices, and squeals, but some survivor’s guilt kicks in at the loss of these other young children, beautiful blessings, that have been so unfairly torn from this world and their loved ones. 

Any massacre is horror... An unimaginable nightmare come true, but when it involves the purest, most vulnerable members of a society,  it is especially evil.  It robs the place in your soul reserved for hope, joy, tenderness, and innocence.   This is the kind of burglary that often  things are never found again.  Lost forever.  Trust, security, faith, innocence.  How do these mothers and fathers, brothers, sisters, grandparents, relatives, and friends ever rediscover joy again when they are suffering so?  Where will healing come from?  Gun control, mental health reform, living in a bubble with armed security everywhere?  When will compassion, empathy, unselfishness, ethics and love, be put into the curriculum of studies?  These skills can be taught and mirrored too.   And, the media needs to be in the front row when these lessons begin. 

Perhaps through this darkness of the soul... maybe this  is where everyone will find their way back to a place of light again, inside the heart of other’s immense pain. Joining hands and hearts, and leading one another out, into the Light of Love and understanding. And change.  Badly needed change. We are connected.... When will we get that?  Nowhere was it more apparent than in the memorial service for the victims of Sandy Hook. One God, Allah, Higher Power, Source, Holy Name, Om, Supreme Being..... drawing us together to grieve and comfort one another in the loss of His greatest glory. 

In the words of Henry Beecher Stowe, “Children are the hands by which we take hold of heaven.”  It is through the personalities and abundant gifts these beautiful little angels brought into this world, 6-7 years ago, we will find our God’s healing and be able to feel heaven again.   

My heart is with you. 

Week Fifty- WooHoo to Opening up the Guest House....

I’ve been trying to recapture my zen.  Some bad things have happened recently, and I was shocked to see how quickly it all slipped away.  I labeled myself the wicked witch of the East because I sure melted into a puddle of yuck these past few weeks.  Ugliness didn’t simply inch its way back into my life again.  It came roaring in, leaving me gasping for breath with an intensity I hadn’t known before.  Rage...... is a new emotion for me.  Apparently, I’ve managed to bury that one deep under layers of other emotion or maybe even an addiction or two.  The end result was just an overall feeling of unwellness, mentally for sure, but surprisingly physical as well.   Anger, revenge, judgement, and then old tapes that said it was wrong to feel this.  The feelings of guilt that arrived were just an attempt to douse the out of control flames burning brightly.  Those were getting fueled by every abandonment, rejection, loss, and tragedy suffered in my lifetime.  Where did it all come from?  Good grief. 

Then, I  labeled myself as defective, once again.  A phony claiming to have a few good qualities that somehow had left the building, or were they ever even really there?    Character defects glaring back at me and taunting me with, “See... we ARE still here. You haven’t changed one bit.”  The voices in my head were cruel and out of control.  It didn’t help that I was virtually on my own in my anger.  People get frightened when you express that much emotion, and tend to back off in fear, get snitty back, or worse yet, try to minimize what you are feeling for you. Compassion was sorely absent, but then again, I wasn’t acting like the person they had come to know.   Perhaps they were afraid it was contagious too, and some of the venom would land on them.  I really felt abandoned (again) and zapped... powerless.  On some level though, I not only knew the anger was justified, and although it didn’t FEEL healthy in my body, I knew it was actually spiritually healthy for me to experience the emotion of it, fully.  It owned me for awhile.  I wouldn’t have ever welcomed it, but into about the second or third week of this process, I did recognize, it was teaching me something.  It was showing me, as frightening and negative as it was, I needed to own it. Once we own something, its power diminishes and we begin to get ours back.  My power came back just enough to be able to turn it over although my trust level with my Source was at an all time low.   I knew that I had to do that. The difference in turning it over this time was I did it for me.  No generosity of spirit, no attempts for folks to like me again because I was happy and fun... it was a case of pure selfishness.   I just didn’t like feeling and living in it.  Most of all I intuitively knew, in turning it over to my Source, that would be the only way I would be able to ever see rightly because  my Source is only capable of love. In love, my Higher Power guided me to this:   

The Guest House

by Rumi

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

Woo-Hoo to feelings! My guest house is fully open to them now.  Because I know there is a permanent Tenant here Who is better in tune than I am with what I need for my spirit to learn and grow.   And, wow... how timely for this to happen at the end of my year of woohoo. I thought so much of my year would be comprised of woo-hoo’s that reflected fun times, adventures, new endeavors.... It’s looking more like woo-hoo to the unexpected visitors, who have lit my path and changed me  this year.  I think I will dedicate the last two weeks to acknowledging them and expressing my gratitude for the role they have all played in my life.  WooHoo! 

Week Forty-Nine- Powerlessness and no woo-hoo in sight....

I ended last week’s entry with an Elizabeth Kubler Ross quote,“Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself, and know that everything in life has purpose.  There are no mistakes, no coincidences, all events are blessings given to us to learn from.”  This profession of belief came back and bit me in the patootie as well as challenged me in a bigger way than I have been challenged in many years.   Something said, “Hey hot shot, let’s see if you can walk like you talk.”  I know I haven’t.  I’ve failed the test horribly.  The “F” word has seared my lips so often this week, I’m thinking I am ready to make a  rap video that could cause U-tube to scream EXPLICIT in flashing red letters all over the screen. My heart feels like it’s ready to explode most of the time: I bounce between sleepless nights and 14 hours of sleep.   My body is exhausted from the tremendous amount of energy it takes to feel so much rage and hatred.... and I don’t like it.  Generally making a choice to choose to see something positive, or  the lesson, works for me.  Not this time.  I can't justify it, turn the other cheek, minimize the damage, or fake it until I make it.  It's not working.  I've been brought to my knees again and  I can’t recall feeling this angry about anything in a very, very, long time.  Perhaps decades.  I know the meaning of non-forgiveness is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die, because I am becoming sicker by the day as the venom permeates every cell in my body. Can I describe the rage I feel?  Every fiber of my being is on high alert, just coiled to attack.  An elephant is sitting on my chest, and I have to make a concerted effort to breath.  Focusing is non-existent as the thoughts bouncing around in my head aren’t even rational and the reel to reel keeps repeating.  I imagine the act and violation, and it just fuels the fires. 

My little family was a victim of a robbery the previous weekend.  They discovered it when they came home from what was a happy, joyful, overnighter with friends.  A window in an office pried open; every drawer, closet, cupboard rifled and lifted as the invaders picked and choose, anything they perceived to be of any value.  Children’s piggy banks, treasured heirloom jewelry, childrens’ religious pieces, technology games, tools, fundraiser money.   Those are just a few of things that have been taken;  like someone felt entitled to go on a drunken shopping spree in a private residence.    I cannot wrap my mind around the profile of  individuals that could do such a thing.  Were they born without a morality button?  They certainly can’t care about the devastation this had on the children.  Or,  the years of work and sacrifice of the victims as well as the generations before them, that went into the accumulation of those material possessions.  Nope, I can’t even come close to understanding the mind of these monsters that  trash their way into others lives wrecking havoc...destructive forces of nature, except this has nothing to do with nature.  When I think of nature, I think of my God and how His presence is intertwined in all that I see in the natural world.  I just can't believe He was present in this horrific act. 

Every day is the day I think we will all move on.  And, then the clouds move in and another item comes up MIA, lighting the fire again.   I think this can’t have had a permanent impact on the little ones, yet, I know I am only kidding myself.  They have witnessed firsthand the dirty little underbelly of the bit of a world and its evil, selfishness, and entitlement.  They no longer feel safe in their own home, and most of all, they all, my whole family, feel horribly violated.  I know enough about grief processes and I am sitting back in my own little hell and torment, witnessing  each of them each traveling through very personal and familiar phases.   The oldest grandchild  is stuck in depression and has taken to sleeping every single moment she isn’t in school.  The middle one has started to chew on and suck her thumb, something she hasn’t done since she was a baby,  and the youngest will not even go into an adjacent room by herself. I know they are young, and, they will move through the process in their time and acceptance will set in leaving some breathing space for their childlike joy again. It's much more painful to watch than to experience it yourself.   

But, how can I move on?  This hurts so much worse than if it had happened to me... And, it actually has.  Not once, but twice in my lifetime.  Maybe that’s what makes it so wrenching.  I know the fear, the violation, and the disappointment in discovering, it isn’t always about what kind of person you are.  Bad shit happens to awesome, giving,  loving people.  And, bad people sometimes seem to win and come out on top.   I don’t know if the things it taught me, are the things I ever wanted my little family to learn, at least not so up close and personal.  I would have rather they learned it on the sidelines,  from the periphery of  my experiences.   

Yet, I’ve lived through enough crisis and wallowed long enough in it this entire week or more,  to intuitively know, there is only one thing I can do, for myself, just myself...  to begin to move forward.  I feel like the power of choice to control my thoughts and my attitude has been stripped away, stolen too.   There is but one choice left.  Today is the day I am making that choice,  because I will not allow such evil and poison, to have another day inside my heart and head and control my life.  

Today, is the day I am begging, “Higher Power, I am powerless over this rage and my attitude and thoughts about these individuals.  I hand them and my life over to You to do with what You will.  I trust Your plan and know with You all things are possible.  Even  forgiveness.  Help me back to a place of serenity, love,  and to discover the WooHoo in life again."   

(This post was written cathartically... if it offends someone, I'm sorry.   I need my joy back...and I am powerless to recapture it on my own)

Week Forty-Seven and Forty- Eight - Meditation, Gratitude and Thanksgiving

I’ve moved beyond the three C’s...finally.  Crying, Conflicted and Confused seemed to be the state of my internal affairs the last few weeks.  Reminding myself, this too shall pass, and sticking with my 21 day meditation commitment with Deepak, some light has shone through the cracks of the wall I had built up again.  Maybe the meditation shook loose some more of the dust of old fears, and regret. I know surely there is a priceless, heirloom lying in wait, and all I need to do is recognize her and wrap my arms around her in gratitude and love. And, teach her to continue to protect herself when others dust starts to fly her way.  

I began meditation practice, rather sporadically, about 6-7 years ago.  I attended a psychic fair with a group of ladies, looking for nothing really other than to have a great time with my friends.  A male psychic picked me out of the crowd and said, “ This is for the blonde lady in the back of the room.”  As I looked around in search of “her”, he said, “No, I mean you.  I am talking to you.”  He then proceeded on and told me, “You are really good at praying and talking to God.  Now, you need to practice listening to God.”  I was confused.  How do I listen to God?  Meditation has been the answer; better than therapy and no stress over a bill in the mailbox. 

In a very recent meditation session I experienced a few of those sweet slices of pure mindless bliss and a voice within that whispered, “I love you so much.  Trust me.”   How can I not?  This voice was different than the annoying one that taunts my brain with so much nonsense.  Some days in the midst of the meditation, the mind behaves like a spoiled little two year old, stomping its feet and screaming, “Pay attention to me!”  It’s like a deceptive old wizard, standing behind the curtain, madly working the controls, trying to get me to listen to the voice of the great and powerful ego.  My goal is to reveal  what’s really waiting for me behind that curtain;  truth... unconditional support and love and Freedom.   Those occasional glimpses of what’s possible, makes me want to keep perfecting flipping the “off” switch and going within.  

The structured meditation challenge provided by The Chopra Center, and my commitment to it, has been a highlight and some days, I’ve practiced twice in one day. 

I was reminded once again, in the midst of the practice the other day, how powerless I truly am.  I have no idea why I think I exercise more control over my life than the Source who created the heavens and earth.  What an ego!   When you really ponder it for a while, one would think we would be so grateful that our only job is to be grateful and know in doing that, we receive a world of abundance.  Why can’t most of us just let go of outcomes and dance in the day? 

 My first sucker punch about control came when I discovered I had no power over my addiction to alcohol.  I had to let go and turn to something outside of my head, where will power and arrogance resided. Those weren’t working.  Shortly into sobriety I learned how little control I had over most things, specifically outcomes, when my mom was diagnosed with cancer.  There is nothing to fully engage that feeling of utter despair and complete powerlessness than disease.  I’ve gotten to repeat the lesson of powerlessness over and over in the loss of jobs, friends, heartbreaks, and finances from time to time.  I know this truth well.  We are ultimately powerless over outcomes in our lives.  The best we can do, is get on about the business of living, doing the legwork, being grateful for whatever comes our way, even if we have to drill it down. I do believe we have a choice in how we view the events in our lives.  Some of my gratitude lists from the past, captured in journals, look a little like this:

• I am grateful today that my broken heart has taught me to love myself just as much as I love someone else.
• I’m grateful to have known the soulmate love of my husband, powerful and nurturing even if I only had him for ten years.  Some never have it in a lifetime. 
• I’m grateful to have shared a sober year with my mom before she passed away.
• I’m grateful to have been able to spend two months in Europe before I lost my job.
• I’m grateful for some of the hardships I’ve undergone.  It’s made me a kind, understanding person capable of empathy,  in knowing how it feels to experience a loss, fight an addiction, be financially broke, get your heart broken, be scared to death, and fail. 
• I’m grateful for this unproven faith, and uncommon courage that tells me, quitting is not an option.  Resting awhile is okay.  Giving up isn’t.   
• I’m grateful today that I do believe beyond a reasonable doubt, rejection IS God’s protection. 

Glancing back through my journals, the traditional thankfulness for my health, family, home, job, has been there for the most part through the years.  The more profound entries are the ones, when the light bulb goes on and I recognize, there is always a seed of gratitude in every experience.  Not always (rarely) identifiable immediately, but ultimately, I can see a  grand pattern, and it’s one that winds into a belief,  our lives and events aren’t random.  

That’s what mindfulness and meditation is teaching me.  All I need to worry about, is the present.  Work hard, plan with no strings attached, embrace my heart’s desires, be real, live my life, follow the version of the golden rule which asks me to treat others, as THEY  would like to be treated.... listen.  The details are none of my business and simply a spiritual drain and a distraction. 

I’m grateful, for this meditation experience and my crazy, colorful, dysfunctional life.  Through both,  I’ve learned, I do have this tremendous Source of abundance, strength, hope, and love right here, anytime I choose to tap in.   The best way for me to access that power, is to go within and listen beyond the thoughts in my head.  

I leave you with a quote from one of my favorite icons, Elizabeth Kubler Ross,

“Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself, and know that everything in life has purpose.  There are no mistakes, no coincidences, all events are blessings given to us to learn from.” 

Woo Hoo to meditation practice and the gratitude it breeds.  Happy Thanksgiving every day of your life. 

Week Forty-Six -- - - - - Testing... testing...

This week’s entry is greatly delayed. I knew when I started this commitment and journey to 52 weeks of woohoo some weeks I may have to dig a little deeper to unearth the joy.  It was one of those weeks.  First, the Presidential election took place, and as hopeful as I was, personally, the change I wanted to see didn’t happen.  I did find some gratitude in my freedom to live in a country where I do get to cast a vote.  But, I got caught up in the end result and decided that I must be the ONLY one that has gone through a rough ride under this President’s leadership.  Poor me.  I sure didn’t envision this chapter of my life looking like this, part time jobs being the new normal, without benefits, a declining unsaleable house worth 35% less than it was even six years ago, and growing bone tired of struggling and living it all, on my own. I found myself scared about the future (not where I should be living, for sure)  and wanting our old enthusiastic country back, the one I read about,  post WWII... A nation that values hard work and success, and breeds entrepreneurship and ingenuity.  Rather than this new complacency that slowly allows government to creep in and take care of everything for everyone, as they quietly slip the knife in the brain to perform a lobotomy, cutting away desire, opportunity and creativity which so often seems to be scorned and penalized.  Why don’t people admire success and look at it as an opportunity for learning and mentorship?  Do people really want to be equal in what seems to me to be all the wrong ways, robotically marching in unison to the beat, like a  Pink Floyd music video? Status Quo.  I knew the picture I was painting in my head, was bit over the top.  I also know I can be a drama queen in my thinking (and writing) mostly for effect, but, that was my opinion, and it’s one thing, so far, the government hasn’t yet stolen from me.  So many choices are slowly being stripped away, for my own good they say;  no drinking a pop over 16 ounces in New York, or driving without a seat belt, and soon I won’t have much choice over my health care provider (or lack of one).   Rules, warning and regulations reign supreme over about every area of our lives,  but today at least, I’m still allowed to think out loud and express my opinion.    As if one man (a President)  had the power to change things anyway.  Yet, my own life experiences have proven time and again, if nothing changes, nothing changes.  All this mental chaos, I knew on some level was counter-productive thinking;  self-centered and negative, totally foreign to how I want to live my life today. 

But, it continued. 

Later in the week, someone who made a tremendous impact on my life in the past six years, passed away.  She’d been sick for a year.  We met in a truly serendipitous encounter and there was an instant connection and attachment.  I intuitively knew she was put in my life for many reasons, opening the door to some childhood healing, and my mind to new spiritual thought processes that continue to blossom and serve me better than the God of my understanding in the past.   We often put people on pedestals, especially those that possess something we admire, desire or see lacking in ourselves.  We forget they too are human and when they fall off the pedestal, sometimes shattering, it’s hard to reconcile that they are still just human beings traveling their own path of hurt, healing, and learning their lessons too.  This is what happened in this relationship. It’d disintegrated a few years ago, rightfully so for a variety of reasons, the most important being, it wasn’t conducive to my good self-esteem and the positive energy I wanted to draw into my life.  I was torn and in a lot of mental anguish how to reconcile my feelings of gratitude to her for the gifts she brought into my life, with these newly learned lessons about boundaries and self-care, and walking away from unkindness, and unhealthy people and situations.  It consumed me and left me in tears for a good part of the week.  I was able to send her a letter before she passed and let her know of the gifts she brought into my life.  I was able to pray for her family.  I was unable to be hypocritical and attend her memorial service. I tried.  My intentions were good, but when the day came, something inside stopped me cold. I’ve learned in the past few years to pay attention to that something inside.  The old guilt of perceived public opinion at my failure to attend ate at me for a few days, but later dissipated when I honestly realized, what I was doing was really the best and most authentic thing to do... for me.  

Then I started a 21 day meditation challenge headed up by Deepak Chopra. Rather than feeling all relaxed, warm and fuzzy, I was agitated, irritable and annoyed the first few days.  What was the deal here?  This clearly was not what I expected.  Every personal affront, betrayal, and hurt was rising to the surface, triggered by the events of the past few weeks.  I felt myself shutting down again.  Closing off the doors to relationships, tuning out, and hibernating.  I did have the wherewithal to continue my mediation practice and immerse myself in positive spiritual readings.  I was watching a webcast interview with one of my favorite spiritual ladies, Iyanla VanZant.  She was citing a passage in Neale Donald Walsch’s book, Conversations with God.  “Whenever you declare to be something, everything unlike it will show up.  So the minute you declare yourself to be healed, or at peace, whatever it is, everything unlike it is gonna show up to test you. So, remember, If you don’t have a test, you won’t have a testimony.”   

My spiritual constipation shook loose.  My feelings were all perfectly fine.  It was normal to feel angry that I didn’t get my way, disappointed my guy didn’t win, conflicted about someone that gave me so much, yet, pushed so many childhood buttons related to self-esteem, rejection and abandonment.  It was okay to grieve the losses.  The meditation practice was just subconsciously pushing it to the surface, to see if I would handle it differently, this time.  

I did.  We can accept or reject the way we are treated by other people, we don’t need to feel guilty about stepping away and protecting ourselves from painful memories, as long as it is done kindly. I stepped away. I made peace with her while she was alive, acknowledging the gifts she brought into my life and I sent love and support to my friend’s family in their loss..... From a distance.  I got over my doom and gloom attitude with state of the nation too, and discovered by wallowing in it, and spewing negative energy was not part of the solution.  I can support, defend and do my part as a US citizen, to express my opinion to my congressman, vote, and personally contribute my time and efforts to implementing positive change. I can turn off/tune out the media with their subliminal sensationalism and terminology about "fiscal cliffs" and recessions.  

Best of all, I indulged in an entire pint of Graeter’s Ice Cream.... Coconut Chocolate Chip.  My world became a better place.  WooHoo.  

Week Forty-Five - Cloud Atlas: Karma, Learning, and Everlasting Love

“Our lives and our choices, each encounter, suggest a new potential direction. Yesterday my life was headed in one direction. Today, it is headed in another. Fear, belief, love;  phenomena that determines the course of our lives. These forces begin long before we are born and continue long after we perish.” 

 I sat in a movie theatre Saturday night enthralled, and challenged to follow the six different story lines of six generations of souls portrayed in this wonderful sci-fi’ish movie named Cloud Atlas.  It was three hours short, and right up my alley, but I knew most of my loved ones wouldn’t be up for it, so I treated myself.  What I call a movie with a message, they would call a movie that made their brains hurt!  I was glad I  went alone.  I got to sigh, and cry, cover my eyes and clutch my heart privately.  It was a wild ride for sure in simply keeping up with the story line which randomly raced from one era to another.  I got the message loud and clear, early on.  Every action we take affects not only our destiny, but others as well.  Every breath of our lives has a purpose, and life’s design is for us to grow and learn.  It is in our evolution we are not only the student, but the teacher, trading roles with all of those who touch into our lives.  

This week was perfect karmic timing for seeing this movie.  I’ve had the strongest sense of connection recently, with people, as well as places.  Sometimes I seem to possess this eerie ability to look out of eyes, that don’t seem to belong to me;  rather this soul inside who is clearly much more loving and kinder when engaging with others. Especially those people who push my buttons or hurt me.   Maybe this strange new vision is a  bonus; the result of keeping my nose to a spiritual grindstone over the last few years... who knows?  I’ve discovered, I like being somewhat detached,  being the observer;  impartial, and considerate of others journey.  

The movie made me think of long lost loves, relationships that ended poorly, and the handful of people who literally, have changed me in profound ways,  forever.    When I step back and look at them in the big picture rather than caught up in that single snapshot of “that time”, I can see the truth in another quote from the movie, “We are bound together from womb to tomb. Our lives are not our own.  We are bound to others past and present, and by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future.”  There is a karmic cause and effect energy at play here, in all our lives.  We get the opportunity, over and over again, to change the crime and turn it into kindness.   Nothing is left undone, and sometimes it just might take more than one lifetime of connection to complete destiny; our own and others.  Sometimes we are playing a role in other’s lives, and other times they are playing a part in ours.  From teacher to student, we trade off, learning what we need to learn for our spiritual evolution. 

This idea of reincarnation,  has really made me much more conscious of how I treat others, knowing, sooner or later, the ledger will get balanced.   If I have to set  boundaries, I do that more gently.  I speak my truth kinder without (to the best of my ability)  judging  another’s truth.  I’m fully aware of the energy I bring into others space and try my best to make it positive, or at least neutral.   I don’t hurt others feelings intentionally, and if I do, I amend it as quickly as I can. These are some of the tools I have learned in this lifetime that lend to a more peaceful and joyful me. 

I believe the Law of the Universe is one of attraction too.... Throughout history it’s been referred to as reaping what we sow, or an eye for an eye, and what goes around, comes around.  I really don’t want to spend my lifetimes, making the same mistakes over and over again, or repeating the same story.... same old soul, different bodies. 

Tom Hanks in Cloud Atlas

Some heavy-duty thought this election week, but its been a pleasant diversion from the political saturation of mean-spiritedness, opinions, and focus.  It puts it in perspective.  Everyone... even in this arena is simply acting out their karma.   

We are all just souls.......  “We cross the ages like clouds cross skies, and although a cloud’s shape nor hue, nor size doesn’t stay the same, it’s still a cloud and so is a soul.  Who can say where the cloud’s blowed from or who the soul will be tomorrow?”(Cloud Atlas) 

WooHoo to second, third, fourth or an eternity of chances!   Remind me if I get too caught up in being more human than soulful,  to just be kind, live in the moment, and trust in love as the only constant.  I’d like, when I come back next time around, to maybe walk a path of the great thinker, Socrates, or maybe Rumi, the poet.   Or, at the very least, the actress, Betty White!  She sure seems to be enjoying her ride! 

Week Forty-Four - Who runs the world? GIRLS!

I got to spend an evening with a roomful of beautiful ladies this week, about 225 of them; all ages, shapes, and sizes!  Our local Health System’s foundation, held a fundraiser for woman’s health in support of breast cancer awareness month. With a name like Diva’s and Darlings, I knew it was bound to be fun!  The theme, Mardi-Gras, and many of these lovely ladies donned bejeweled masks, dressy attire, and costumes.  It was a perfect girly night on the town, with live auction, silent auction, purse raffle, diamond and chocolate games of chance, and a spectacular spread of Creole style food.  Even the appetizers screamed New Orleans, tiny langostinos, and a huge shrimp bowl continuously filled by men in crisp, white chef coats.   The entertainment was an itsy, bitsy, little firebrand of a lady; a humorist, motivational speaker and breast cancer survivor, too. This little women, who exuded some powerful joy, was there to teach us something.  In a nutshell her message was:  the greatest expression of gratitude for life, is to love oneself.   With a funny, relatable, authentic, and self-deprecating humor she brought many of us to tears of hilarity as well as empathy.  Her narration all lead back to this single hope; that woman everywhere learn to accept and love themselves as they were created!   Her belief is that is in acknowledging and accepting our individual uniqueness, perceived flaws and all, therein, lies a woman’s true source of real power.   

I gave some thought afterwards to that philosophy.   I didn’t do the exercises she suggested, like getting naked and checking it all out in the mirror.  It was too chilly this week!  A good excuse.  But, I did ask myself, “Self, does your behavior now reflect a woman who loves herself?”  It surely didn’t for so many years, and the saddest part was I didn’t even realize it.  

I haven’t always felt powerful as a woman and in reality my love of my womanhood has just come around in the last few decades.  I viewed men as overpowering forces of nature that would always come out on top (no pun intended).  Professionally, as heads of households, and just because they were male, it seemed inevitable they would always exercise so much control over my life. Maybe they did because I didn’t feel confident enough to grab hold of my own choices and decisions and handed it  all over instead.   I just didn’t realize then, I could do much about it.   They seemed to hold the key to my security, survival.... and happiness.  Some of my female mentors and role models were successful females; doctors, lawyers, and CEO’s of companies, self-confident, attractive, intelligent, and financially secure.  But, they stayed in horrible relationships with men who were serial cheaters, lazy or abused them.  Why did they continue to forgive and stay with them?  They weren’t financially dependant on them?  They had the education, tenacity, and resumes to support themselves. They were good looking woman, attractive to other men.  Why would they choose a lifestyle of power in the Board Room, but powerlessness over their personal relationships and happiness;  knowing they deserved to be respected and treated well in their own homes?   Those were the examples I honed in on, in my younger years, and it just helpeded to reinforce what I thought. Men ruled the world, especially the private, personal ones of most women. 

Things started to change for me in my early 40’s when I began to uncover my worth and discovered it did not revolve around the opinions of others, most especially men.  I loved me.  Amazingly, I then attracted a man who deemed me worthy as well and loved me for my many  newly discovered assets, but also my insecurities, and flaws.  He accepted my sarcasm,  my humor, my little pillow tummy, my obsession with make-up and stilettos,  my fears, my workaholism and my propensity to dissect and intellectualize EVERYTHING!   A few years after his death, I began to attract the same type of men from my younger years.  What happened?   I slipped into the old mode and  decided I wasn’t worthy of healthy love that supported my desires, dreams, and boundaries, no matter what.  I placed more importance on becoming what others (men) wanted or needed than what I needed. I operated out of fear... what if I was wrong, really not good enough and what about this being alone?   A total betrayal of myself, I cast this lovable woman aside along with her boundaries and power.  

There was a popular commercial for a perfume in the 80’s. The theme song, touted, “ I’m a woman...I can bring home the bacon.  Fry it up in a pan.  And, never, ever let you forget you’re a man.  Why in the hell should that be considered an asset and a priority?   How about a perfume for remembering,  you are woman;  powerful and gentle, a contradiction, authentic and enough?   Not just any woman, but a phenomenal woman!   We give life, nurture, learn, think, achieve, accomplish, create. We are deserving and perfect, without breasts, 50 pounds heavier than we think we should be, without a man, or an impressive resume, or a big bank account.  Until we begin to believe that, we contribute to the shriveling of all women. We hand over bits of our power where it could be used to really change our world.        

Photo - Angela Owens Photography

As I looked around the room at all of these gorgeous females, I could feel this movement of energy, bursting at the seams, ready to be expressed just as soon as everyone, in unison, could say, "I love this woman that I am.  I am unique. I am  powerful.  Here me roar. Watch out world.  I am the change I want to see, and I am going to carve my own path of recognition, acceptance, and wisdom, for my daughters and yours." 

It all boils down to this little thing called, self-love.  A woman can do it all, achieve it all, have it all and still find she doesn’t love herself.... not at all.   Until we can, we remain truly powerless and what a waste of purpose and talent that is.  My goal,  (this week at least) is rediscover those traits that make me authentically me... lovable, unique, unorthodox, flaky, and unconventional... especially unconventional.  I am committed to gathering all those parts of me,  up in my arms, for a great big love-fest.  Oh, and, sigh... I’ll do as I was told.... get naked and recite the loving affirmations on that image too.  I’ll do it, until I start to believe it.  WooHoo to woman everywhere!  We are Feminine Forces of Nature!     

Week Forty-Three - Keep it simple....Back off Blondie!

I’ve had to work hard at my serenity these past few weeks.  Times are hard and uncertain for many people, and I am no exception.  While I have been able to maintain a smiling face, and project a relatively confident image to the outside world, stress has been nibbling away at my insides, trying to get at my heart, the place where my hopes, dreams and faith reside.  So many opinions in this political pressure cooker America is simmering in over the past months, pre-election.  I can’t stand it.  It makes my chest hurt, and sometimes I feel sick to my stomach at the constant back-stabbing, just plain mean spiritedness, and sarcasm spewed by the media, pundits, political party followers, and the candidates themselves.  The newspapers, television, internet, and corporate break rooms are filled with biased, obnoxious diatribe;  the design is to degrade and hurt.  It should be candid and enlightening, and most of all honorable. Much of it isn’t.  I’ve lived through a number of Presidential campaigns and this one just makes me feel like I want to take a long hot shower to get rid of the residual grime.  Maybe it is because of technology and there are so many methods of inundating us with information.  Personally, I think this should be such a simple matter for Americans.  Just drill it down.  What kind of America do you want to live in? Predominately government controlled; tucked under Big Brother (or Big Bird's) protective wing, financially dependant.  Or  more personal autonomy,  accountability, and freedom to choose and succeed (or fail)?    Neither side is really ideologically right or wrong.  One path will never fit all. Everyone is different and free to express those differences. Can we do it without the venom?  That is one of the reasons why our form of government and lifestyle used to be held up as a role model for so many other countries not blessed with those inalienable rights.   I know I am grossly over-simplifying, but essentially, isn’t that better than constantly convoluting the truth to persuade others to buy into personal agendas?  I think so. Simple always seems to work better for me in just about every aspect of my life.  If it gets complicated, my heart begins to send out warnings.  “Pay no attention to the man inside your head, he’s all about the smoke and mirrors.

Last week, someone acknowledged my ability to look beyond the lack of beauty, unpleasant surroundings, and imperfections, in myself and others by looking further beyond the horizon at something different...at God’s patience, perfection, and calmness.  I was so grateful for such a nice compliment, but I must admit it did evoke a little head time in discerning whether the compliment was a true depiction of how I conduct my life today.   Do I look beyond the challenges, fears, and stresses in my life?  I came to this conclusion; I work very hard at it.  It’s not enough for me to  just LOOK to God for those gifts.  The fruits of those gifts come about when I support it with a little action.  I can’t just stare off into the horizon, and expect God to hit me with the magic wand of serenity.  Bing.... you’re at peace.  No.  Sometimes, you have to just walk away,   turn it off, do something different.   Step one, is to recognize when something IS affecting you. 

I’ve put this into practice recently, last week during the Presidential Debate.  The Vice Presidential debate ignited my ire for days afterwards.  I felt irritated and depressed, and cranky.  My sleep was even disturbed.  Last Tuesday, I did something different.  I didn’t watch any of it!  Oh, the pull was there to get engaged in the chaos, and at first I had the television on mute, but the body language was just as bad as hearing those verbal fisticuffs.  So I turned it off.  Shut it all down and plugged into a positive podcast that immediately soothed my jangled nerves.   

Saturday, my five year old grand-daughter came to help make apple dumplings.  We had picked fresh apples the weekend before and I was in the mood for some comfort food... a Fall treat. This was not her first time for this particular recipe.  She had made them before with her great grandma.  As I was rolling out the dough and spreading cream cheese (because she decided I was better at this function), she laid claim to the job of placing the apple in the center and “smooshing” the dough around the apple.  Completing my part of the task first, I reached in to help with hers.  Indignantly she looked at me, and said, “Hey, back off Blondie!”  Stifling laughter, I did.  

Out of the mouths of little ones.  That’s it!  That’s the key!

That is what I have learned to do with those things that make my heart race, hurt my feelings, or just aren’t conducive to bringing out the best me.  Back off.  It's easier to put things in perspective at a distance. The result has been the ability to look at things with more patience, feeling calmer, and even seeing things from a bigger picture view, as God sees them.  I pray I can continue to keep it as simple as my little granddaughter.  When something begins to affect me negatively,  it just might be time to "back off Blondie." 

WooHoo! 

Week Forty-Two - Aging Gratefully.... WooHoo!

Last weekend was my birthday.  I’m thrilled to see every birthday arrive these days.   I’m not always crazy about some of the changes carved onto my face, and settling in my joints, but I do try to keep a positive outlook about all that too.  For now.  I am clinging to the precipice of middle age, taking better care of mind and body than I did even a decade ago, trying to prevent the plunge into old age. I know I’ll get there sooner if I allow my ego to tell me what I am not and cannot do... at my age!  It’s a gentler practice to look for the silver linings. 

Making up my mind to think positive about this aging gig has revealed some real gems!   When I think about a body that doesn’t move quite as quickly, I’m convinced that’s simply so I have more time to relax in the big chair in my den, contemplate the course of my life in front of a mesmerizing fire which lulls me into mindful and constructive reflection!    It’s important (at my age now), to correct any of those defects of character before I pass on to the other side, where some believe I might be judged. I personally don’t buy into this God of spiteful, human traits.   Rather I believe in karma, and lessons, and I  think I’ll get to come back to re-experience and correct anything I was marginal at in this lifetime.  Like self-confidence, accepting love, and self-forgiveness. 

My flexibility isn’t what it used to be either, but, I’m okay with that too.  I get more attention in Yoga class.  The instructor gently pushes my leg higher up and tells me to breathe into those muscles and joints.  That’s good advice for everyday living.  Just breathe.... into the occasional unbending rigidity of life, nourishing the cells into forgiveness, acceptance and then peace. 

And, then there's the issue of my body changing shape. No matter how hard I work at eliminating those little pockets of fat that have accumulated in spots I never had fat before, they hang on like a needy brood, clinging to my hips and tummy. That’s okay too. There are few things more nurturing than my sweet little pillow body of comfort and security that  provide my grandchildren and precious ones a place to settle into softness and the comfort of my unconditional loving arms. 

I look back at images of me at different decades of my life; age twenty, perfect flawless skin, tight body, lustrous hair;  barely recognizable. Who is that?  Is that me?  Lovely,   artistic almost... in a Madame Tussad’s wax museum sort of way, personality left to the eye of the beholder.    So much is missing.  Self-confidence. Authenticity.  Self-love.  Slow forward, witnessing the transition from joyful child, woman-child, mother of a child, motherless child, single woman, loved woman, heartbroken woman, wise woman metastasizing into this larger, wiser soul inside a diminishing physical form.  The wiser soul apparent in words, carriage, and behavior and much more beautiful,  adorned in abundant life experiences. And, all of this also reflected in the brilliance and excitement of unchanging eyes, deep and meaningful; dancing and joyous. 

The best thing about my birthday last week was the acknowledgement that my life has meant something to others.  Voice mails, emails, text messages,  all the modern conveniences, electronically planting hugs and kisses and awesome sentiments.  Cards, tokens, special gifts to touch and hold close to my heart when tangible support is needed to remind me, I was, and am loved. 

Weeks before my daughter asked me what I wanted for my birthday.  “ Do you have a list?” she asked.  I struggled with that. A Zumba tape, a purse, a Bullet handmixer, cute boots, books...It was hard.   I’ve had so much.  I’ve lived so much.  I’ve savored more than my share.   It's all come full circle, back to the realization,  there is no gift greater than being acknowledged,  in knowing you are in another's thoughts, you're valued;  you have made a difference to someone.  You are loved, just as you are; pillow tummy, laugh lines, occassional sarcasm, creaking joints.  Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.  

And because of (and in spite of) all those gifts, when I looked in the mirror this week, I saw a soul overflowing with blessings..... When I dared look even closer, past the worry line deeply gouged into my forehead, what I saw captured in the bright, greenish/blue eyes staring back at me, was amazement and gratitude at those reflections from others, in joint celebration of my life. 

Now, these legs of mine.... oh, my goodness... unchanged.... still "killer" after all these years!   WooHoo. 

Week Forty-One Birthday Bucket List....

A recent blog post on Positively Positive invited me to come up with a birthday bucket list.  First, Happy Birthday to Me!  I’m immensely grateful when my birthdays arrive.  I don’t have a problem with getting older.  I feel blessed to increase the number of my years on this earth.  I’ve already lived to be 8 years older than my mom was when she died, and 20 years longer than my husband!    The temptation is there sometimes to wallow in a bit of survivor’s guilt, pine away about all they could have/would have enjoyed had they lived.... Like grand babies, retirement, and years of tender love and attention, but I don’t have time in my days to act martyr like or feel guilty about much of anything anymore.  Guilt free...one of the blessings of learning and practicing being kind is more important than being right, doing the next right thing is lots easier than manipulating truth, and applying the Golden Rule as much as possible.  I find that I don’t have anything to feel guilty about!  Besides, they both were fine examples of living their bucket lists, fully.

 It’s always a good thing for me to look back and reflect on the changes that can happen in just one year. I'm always amazed.  I’ve done that again this year, and as wide open as I am these days about so much of my life, this year, some of those changes feel real personal and private, and I intend to hold them close to my heart, at least for awhile. Initially, upon investigation, it didn't appear there were many, but further reflection reinforced the truth  The one thing I did recognize is that most of these movements forward (and it’s all been in that direction) this past year or so, were incremental, cumulative, rather than big gang-buster, fireworks stuff; the kind of events I measured a banner year by.   Like traveling to foreign lands, climbing mountains, jumping out of planes, hopping on Prince Charming’s white horse, or achieving a little fame.   I used to measure my progress and the quality of excitement in my life by all of that BIG stuff.  Or BIG dramas and changes,  like the year I was downsized from a 17 year career, saw my daughter graduate from College AND get married within months,  and lost my husband.  My nest was not only empty that year, my tree was stripped bare and the nest got drop-kicked to the ground by squirrels.  Maybe when you have lived a life of major flux, which appears to be the majority of my story, it’s hard to recognize you’re still evolving unless you're in state of constant euphoria or chaos.   

I guess, that in itself is a change for me!  My measuring stick is a pocket ruler now rather than a yardstick.  I began to learn about accepting the baby steps as progress too in my attempts to drop the 20 pounds I have been trying to shake for the past 6-7 years.  I finally joined Weight Watchers, and unlike times in the past when I wanted to drop a few pounds and it rapidly melted off, the scales now, while reflecting a decline almost every single week, has drifted down in the teensiest of movement - 1/2 pound here, 1/4 of a pound there. Nonetheless, it's predominately been on the decline, ounce by ounce.  I am getting smaller.  Incrementally, over a course of time, it adds up to some big accomplishment. 

So, this year, rather than paste up a dream board that looks like a season from the Great Race, or design a bucket list from the perspective of a starry eyed 20 year old with limited life experience, I’ve kept it simpler.  These are some of things I would like to strive for in this next birth year. They're  just on the list... I'm not doomed to hell if I find myself with an unchecked goal this year. Ready.....slowly, and gently... 

• Reteach myself French so I can whisper beautiful sentiments to those I love, including myself.  
• Downsize.  My belongings, my lifestyle, my expectations, especially of others.
• Stir up those creative juices... tune up the sewing machine.  Have my friends teach me to knit, again...  Make a fun pillow for each one of my little girls to snuggle, giggle, and cry in!     Paint a piece of furniture a fun color. 
• Design my own recovery/support cards.  Who better to understand what others need to hear?
• Go on a spiritual retreat. Omega Institute?  Perhaps.
• Treat myself to a pedicure or facial more often. Forgo the cheese and crackers, and use the money saved for a massage.
• Write. Write. Write. Every day.  For myself or for publication.  Just do it... let it flow... with abandon.  Every day. 
• Practice Yoga... often. Ten minutues or an hour.  Again, just do it.   
• Nap more.  Indulge in delicious afternoon respites cuddling with a loved one... Or a body pillow. 
• Cook.  Have little mini parties to celebrate (anything and everything).  Spoil friends with yummy food.  
• Hand out a whole lot more hugs, kisses and love you’s. 
• Be responsible for the energy I bring into others' space.  Make it positive.

There’s more. But, it’s a secret. I’ll tell you on my next birthday! 

La vie est bon!  

WooHoo!

"There is nothing like returning to place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you, yourself have altered." - Nelson Mandela