Focal point

Truth can be very harsh.   Reality can be daunting.   Caregiving long-term brings these harsh, daunting truths to life whether you want to see them or not.

I have been a "muscle through" kind of person, a never-give-up kind of person, the glass-is-half-full kind of person, there is always a plan for the plan for the plan that might fail.  Backups for the backups, as my son talks about in the computer world.  

As I mentioned in my last post, this valley where we have been residing in the last year has been overcast, dark, and very dim.  The days pass by in a filter of hazy, structured darkness or fog; almost a negative smogginess.  It's hard to focus on anything else but trying to see clearly the next thing that crosses my path.

I know my role in this valley time:  to give loving care on any level needed, render aid and assistance at all times, think for, act for, protect, respond, adjust, be flexible, be proactive, advocate, remember everything...and the list goes on.  I'm never off "the clock."

Day after day -- the role never changes and that is where the weariness sets in and sucks the positivity and joy out of me.  Everything, every decision and action is filtered through the lens of what is best for the person dying.  One easily loses their own joy, zest for living, and life, as the memory of what life was like before becomes lost in the fog of what is and is to come.

Friends get tired of hearing of the darkness....and how small the world around me has become.  It almost seems like the mountains are moving closer together on some days:  and the valley gets narrower and narrower.  Life for others keeps moving forward....and here in the valley of the shadow of death -- time seems to slow down.  Every day is a "Groundhog Day" of taking vitals, talking with medical professionals, scheduling appointments, driving to appointments, trying to figure out if there is anything left in their magic bags of medicine to help.

A harsh reality exists when the magic bag of tricks is empty or doesn't exist anymore.

As a wife, I am torn inside my mind and heart with what I see:  the daily, excruciatingly slow, impending decline.  Life has changed for both of us.  Gone is the person that I married.  The disease robs me of that person.  He looks at me, and I am the same -- but different -- if he remembers anything about who I really am.  I look at him, and he is not the same in any way, except the color of his eyes.  

The knowledge there is nothing left to "fix" is the daily reality and what life is right now...

Each day reveals the struggle is that disease is winning....not just in him, but in me too.

I can't let it take me too.

Finding the strength to fight for my own survival when I'm already depleted is challenging, but I must fight because I know the length of the valley won't last forever.  Life will continue.  So searching for a glimmer of light each day is paramount, or I could get lost in the valley of the shadow.  

And that's what I fear the most.

The wind is blowing

I'm sitting in my office listening to the wind whistling and blowing through the trees outside.  Funny thing, you can only hear wind if there is resistance creating a sound:  trees, mountains, buildings, or anything standing.  We can feel the wind, but can't see it unless it has picked up particles and are blowing them around.

The winds of change are like that.  You don't see it coming.  But you sure can feel change coming or see new the new circumstance that it ushers into your life.

Today, I feel like the past couple of years has been one long windstorm.  Some days, I haven't had the energy to stand in the wind.  Some days, the wind knocked me down.  Some days I tried to stand and got buffeted and blown around like a grain of sand at the beach on windy day.  Some days, the wind's pace was a slower breeze and I could stand the pressure against me.  Rarely were there a string of peaceful, stillness.  

Ever try to fly a kite in a storm?  Kites need wind.  They need steady winds that are gentle enough to not tear the tail off the kite.  Kites don't fly in peaceful days with no breeze.

I need to remember on days that I want to soar above my circumstances, but long for days with no breeze, that kites don't fly when there is no wind.

The Surround

Saturday, October 21, 2017

3:42 PM

Today I witnessed a man surrounded by love.  There were loved ones at his head, by his side, and at his feet.  Within the warmth of those around him, he slipped from this life into the next.  There was no anger around him.  No guilt for words not said. There were no words of hurt or misunderstandings that hadn't been resolved.  There were warm memories.  There was love.  There was so much love you could feel it -- almost palpate it with your hands.  You could certainly see it in the eyes of those in The Surround.

Live life.  Live life so that you have people who surround you while you are full of life.  Live life so that there are no regrets, no words left unsaid, no anger or hurt or misunderstandings left unresolved.  Now is the time for that type of healing.  Now is the time to seize each moment with those in your tribe who will surround you some day when your time in this life is at its end.   Invite into your circle those people who will love you, hold you, challenge you, laugh with you, be with you, sing with you, walk with you, sit with you, and dance with you even though you might not dance well.    Embrace your Surround while you are able.  Be kind and gracious and loving.  Agree to disagree and love them anyway.  Get together while your dishes are undone, and your floors are unswept, and your projects are undone, and there is only PB&J in the cupboard. 

Love them.

Embrace them.

Look them in the eye and tell them how much you care and admire them and appreciate them for walking this path with you called Life.

While you have time.  While you have breath.  While you can open your eyes on this beautiful earth.  LOVE.

-in memoriam of my friend, Jim D. Pulliam

Help! I'm stuck!

All right.  You might not know this about me, but I tend to get stuck.

After living on the farm these past two years, I think I have now found every soft spot and underground spring -- and sometimes obvious marshy places -- on the farm.  And I have a propensity to get the tractor stuck as I am mowing.

I love to mow.  I have no idea why -- but I love mowing.  Hop on the tractor, rev up the engine, turn on the blades, and mindlessly go back and forth over grass that is higher than the "acceptable length" in my eyes and create the most wonderful fragrance in the outdoor world:  fresh cut grass.

Okay....as you are groaning and I am smiling, let me get to the point of my thoughts before you run out to the garage and try to start up your mower in February.

I also love to organize.  One of my winter projects was to clean out files in my file drawers.  I only have two -- so it shouldn't be a hard task, right?  I got together all my tools -- trash bag, new file folders, and organizing tabs and clips and brought out the first huge file of paper and stopped.

Viewing the contents of the file brought back old feelings, situations, and in my mind's eye, I was right back in the old place of my journey that this paper represented.  Let me tell you this:  I got stuck. 

As I was reflecting and reading the file the questions begin to roll:  To toss or not to toss?  THAT is the question!

If I hold onto something that doesn't bring joy, what good does it do me?  What good does it do my spirit and my psyche in this new part of my journey?  Let me tell you -- deciding whether or not to toss those memories was extremely hard!  I had things dating all the way back to foreverland in that file drawer!  All kinds of questions zipped through my brain.  Did tossing the negative things stored in that drawer mean they never happened?  If I kept only the good things and I died and someone else had to go through the drawer would they think I lived a "charmed" life and not get a realistic picture of my struggles?  (Yes, that was one of the things I really thought.)  What would my life look like without certain memories in that drawer? 

As hard as I could, I tried to equate cleaning out the drawer to mowing...and not getting stuck.  I didn't want to get stuck in the bad memories or things that represented mistakes or errors in my journey.  And I realized that if I learned my lesson well, I didn't need to keep a reminder of that time.  The lesson was learned.  I needed to move on and not focus back there on that time I got stuck in the spring that I KNEW was there because I had gotten stuck the last time I rounded that area of the fence line.  I just needed to remember that the underground spring was there -- and avoid getting stuck by rehashing the last time I got stuck.   I needed to recognize when the front wheels started getting wet and stop - and back up -- and go around that area.  Lesson learned.  No need to sink in that hole again. 

Did I need files of memories to not get stuck again?  Nah. 

Realizing that I could avoid getting stuck in that same old thought process, same actions, same rehashing of old times that didn't extend grace to myself or someone else was not helping me in my footing on THIS hill I am climbing; on THIS part of my journey.   So I finally did what I needed to do and cleaned it out.

I left room for new memories -- new files -- good and bad because the cleaning process is usually not a once and done project for me.  I am always finding things I should have "thrown out" but wasn't quite ready.  Now I am ready.  Ready to see the deep grooves in the mud and not go there anymore.  Ready to recognize the rut in my thinking and speech and actions.

Ready to mow, anyone?

"Raindrops keep falling on my head"......

It's raining today.  

Some days I feel like walking in the rain.  Walking in the rain can be like taking a look back at all that you have learned.  

This morning, I read through my blogs of the past three years and that's exactly what it felt like -- a walk in the rain, carrying no umbrella with raindrops "falling on my head".

My blog post on Humanness especially made me stop and ponder this morning.  This time it brought out a lesson is in a different context.  

At that time when I wrote on humanness, I was focusing on accepting my OWN humanness.  Being okay with myself as I walk along this bumpy, rocky, and sometimes hilly journey we call life.  Being okay with the fact that sometimes I don't walk "well".  Being okay with the fact that I stumble, choose the wrong footing, fall, and have to struggle to get back up again.  Being okay with the fact that I am not perfect.  It was about accepting myself and realizing that being human doesn't make me a bad person.  It helps me to accept myself as I learn and grow and make mistakes.  Accept MYSELF.

Today, as I was reading those words and walking in "the rain" of my thoughts, more realizations started forming, but this time it wasn't about my humanness.  It was about the humanness and acceptance of OTHERS.

Others = The people I love -- the ones in my tribe, my circle of acquaintances, and my family are all HUMAN!

In being human they are like me.  They stumble, and fall, and struggle, and choose words and actions unwisely, offend, and get stuck....just like me. 

They want to be accepted by their circle....just like me.

They want to be heard and loved....just like me.

They want to feel the sun on their face and feel free and at peace....just like me.

At times they might not be willing or ready to let certain things go yet....just like me.

They might need a friend to walk with....just like me.

Accepting those humans around me is just as important as accepting myself.  In fact, I found it to be harder because for some reason at times it is my nature to hold them to higher standards than I do myself.  For some reason, it's easy to believe that those humans around me should learn their lessons faster, be kinder,  struggle less, believe in themselves more, and  be this perfectly perfect person.... unlike me.  

Why should I believe that their journey of humanness is so different than mine?

It is wrong of me to think so, and when I can see my humans -- ALL humans with that frame of mind, then I believe it starts to set me free.  My spirit and mind become more open, and I start to feel more at peace within myself.  It's like giving them a "Get out of jail free" card from the Monopoly game I played long ago.  In my spirit and thoughts I extend grace to them as they live in their humanness. 

Extending grace and accepting people, however, doesn't mean the logical consequences of actions and words (positive or negative) go away.  

What it does mean is that my frame of mind in reference to them is different. 

It mean that at times it is easier to set down the "victim" hat and move forward in my own humanness.  It means that the old anxiety and strife when I think of a human that has wronged me doesn't bubble up as often...or to the same extent.  

It means that in my mind I can be healthy -- even if they are not.

To be or not to be...a snake.

Okay,  literally I am shocked to admit this  -- I have come to the conclusion I'd rather be a snake than a butterfly.  Let me tell you why.

I liken my personal journey as a growth process.   I have so much to learn not only about me, but about those around me and how I am in relationship to them.  I learn something new daily and am trying very hard to put into practice what I am learning.  I love learning about all kinds of things, but this learning curve at times has been so steep I have needed ice climbing cleats!  I look at it as a never-ending process for I will never learn everything and that's okay.  The point is, I enjoy the process of learning.  I enjoy the "aha" moment and the understanding it brings to my awareness.  Learning makes me feel alive.  Boredom doesn't exist on my path.

Anyway, back to the snake and the butterfly.  Paul and I have visited the Butterfly room in the Houston Museum of Science (VERY cool and worthwhile if you are ever in the area) a few times now.  You walk into the room and there are butterflies flitting everywhere!  There are all colors, shapes and kinds of butterflies all over the room -- swooping, resting, flitting, teasing.  It is a wonderful place and you can sit in there for hours on end just watching them fly all around.  You see chrysalises  hanging from leaves and know that more are on their way into the world.  It's a beautiful, fun place to be.

Two weeks ago I was weeding my flower beds and was surprised by a garden snake slithering in the grass next to me.  I jumped up and said -- "Well, hello there -- you just stay on your side and I'll stay on mine." -- to which he curled up under the rose bush and did promptly that.  I kept on weeding -- keeping my eye on him.  Also that week I had found a couple baby snakes in the basement.  (Yikes!)  Now they were smaller than the big snake, but I am a firm believer that all snakes belong outside, not inside the house.  I quickly call out to one of my snake charmers (Paul, Isaac, or Joel) who come to my rescue by picking up the snake and throwing it outside.  (Phew!) 

Being an outdoorsy kind of gal I have come across my share of snake skins.  They always freak me out a little bit, but I understand that the snake just doesn't fit in its coat anymore and must shed it if it's to keep growing.

On the other hand, the butterfly does almost the same thing by coming out of its chrysalis but with one difference.  The butterfly gets one shot at growth, lives for about two weeks and then dies.  The snake, however, keeps shedding when it grows and lives on to keep on growing.

My friends, I don't want a one shot chance at growth no matter how beautiful the change might make me.  I want to be like the snake who sheds the old dead habits and leaves them behind only to keep on growing and learning and shedding.

So, what would you rather be like? 

Are you sure you want to go there?

I've always loved horses.  My aunt and uncle who lived next door to me as a child had a paint pony named "Apache".  He was fat and sassy and I loved going to visit him in the pasture.  My cousin Jodi had a horse -- a beautiful quarter horse -- and between those two horses  -- my dream of owning my own horse thrived.  After seeing the film Black Beauty as a kid, all I wanted to do was ride bareback down the beach on a horse -- playing -- enjoying the partnership.  I imagined it would be like flying.  Those dreams didn't die the older I got.

On the drive home from our honeymoon in New England two years ago, Paul and I excitedly started horse shopping.  By the time we reached home -- we had bought Ryker.  Two months later we added Casanova to our small herd -- and thus my dream of becoming a horse owner came true.   Thank you, Paul!!!

Since then, my horses are teaching me a lot about communication.

Horses are smart creatures that don’t usually talk back.   They listen -- and if you give them clear instructions and they understand what is expected of them -- they usually comply. 

Now, there are circumstances where they might not comply immediately -- as in they get distracted or are in pain -- but generally they will do what you ask.  The key is -- you must speak the same language.

I have found that the romantic idea of hopping on a horse and riding off into the sunset is not a true picture of horse ownership.  It takes time to learn the language -- for them to understand and for you to be clear.

So, I am learning to be clear in my communication.  I am learning to make sure my hands are giving the same signal as my leg.  I am learning that my mood sends signals -- just like facial expressions and body language does to my human partner.  If the signals are mixed -- my leg says go and my hands say stop -- it's no wonder the horse is confused and sends signals to me saying, "Hey, get your act together.  What is it that you really want?"

Consistency is key to successfully understanding one another.

As I think about my communication skills with the humans that I love, knowing what I am learning from my horses, I must ask myself questions in regards to how I communicate with them.   Am I sending a clear message of my wants and needs or am I expecting them to read my mind?  Am I expecting them to remember what I really want -- and am I patient with remind them if they forget?  Am I listening to them -- to make sure we are understanding one another?  Am I listening for their signals?  Do I acknowledge that they might be distracted because of pain of some sort or other stimuli? Am I listening to their needs and feelings?  Am I working hard at this every day or am I expecting them to do all the work?

Communication -- clear, patient communication leads to understanding.  Understanding leads to feeling connected.  Feeling connected leads to feelings of intimacy which fosters an environment where love can deepen and grow. 

Yes, that’s where I want to go.

Out of focus?

I love the picture above.  Let me tell you why.  I think the pond on our farm is one of the most relaxing places to hang out.  You hear the breeze blow through the pines, the birds dive around the water looking for bugs and food -- and you occasionally hear the fish plop back into the water as they make a break for the sunshine.   There are no chores at the pond (Okay-- I take that back.  The dock could use a good sanding) that cannot be overlooked for the moments that you spend there. 

The main reason I love the picture though is not just because of its restful setting.  The main reason I love this photo because of how the photo is focused on the foreground.  The photo reminds me -- sometimes the scope of my thinking and perspective is all about what I focus on.

I must admit, lately I've been in a dry spell that has zapped my creative thinking.  Sometimes the ADL's (activities of daily living) of life overwhelm the creative energy that one can have.  It's spring at the farm -- which means there is grass and pastures to be mowed, gardens to plant, weed and tend, and flower beds to cultivate and mulch added to the normal activities of horse stall cleaning, grooming, groundwork and riding, pigeon breeding season and loft management as well as household chores, parenting and feeding my flock.  :)    I am not complaining about any of those activities I just listed for I love each one  (really, I truly don't mind the mowing or stall cleaning) -- it's just that my full life just gets a bit fuller when the weather is beautiful and there is much to be done outside.  I love being outside.

The dry spell surfaces when I don't take the time to be still with my own thoughts, a piece of paper and pencil.  The dry spell comes when my focus is on all the doing and the focus is clear and sharp in that area.   The dry spell stays when I forget that I have the power to zoom in -- or out.  My days add up to the choices I make each day and when I forget to make the choice to focus on creativity -- that is when the creative oasis seems far away.

I once heard the idea that "Good things keep you from the greatest thing."  I have come to tweak and expand that quote a bit -- for my own healthy living.  I say, "Good things can keep you from excellent things." 

None of those things in my list of ADL's are bad.  In fact, they are all good things.  They help out the family and bring me joy in doing them.  However, when I do good things -- and leave no room for expansion -- those good things can keep me from perhaps what might become excellent.  The focus that is now on the foreground -- might be missing something wonderful in the background.

I know if you've read my blog at all in the past two years you find that I think a lot about focus and perspective.  I am growing in that area as I journey along life's path.  I think our perspectives and what we choose to focus on lends us power.  Not power over people -- but power over our lives.  We see choices that we might never have seen before -- or see the ability to make decisions that we never thought we could make.   When I realize there are choices in my journey, it makes me feel liberated and opens up paths I might never have noticed.

The beauty of focus. 

Now do you see why I like the photo?

A Unique Perspective

I think about relationships a lot.  We humans are complex beings!  We desire to be loved and be in communion with others and yet at times it seems like there is nothing more challenging than being in relationship with someone else.

I am learning that as I am in relationship with someone else (any type of relationship) no matter how close I get to them, how  much I know them,  how much time I spend with them or how much I want to change their perspective the fact remains that their reality is not my reality.  They come into our connection with their own perceptions, history, thoughts and emotions which leads them to perceive differently than me.

This is a hard lesson to learn because often I think that being loved and accepted equates the need to agree with me and see things from my perspective.   I am learning that there is no sweeter love than to be in relationship with someone and to not have to agree or see things from the same vantage point.

Why is it that I equate love with agreement?  Why do I often feel that if someone doesn't agree with me that they don't like me?  At times, why have I at times put up walls around me shutting out those that don't agree with me?  Do I make others feel unloved when I don't agree with them?  These are hard questions that have been swirling around in my mind.

I hope that I convey an air of wanting to understand as different viewpoints are shared.  I hope that the basic love I have for another human comes shining through as I listen.  I hope that I validate what they are saying and aim for understanding their perspective.  I also hope that I am able to convey my thoughts without excuse or persuasion.

There is a vulnerability and intimacy in relationships where thoughts, feelings and logic can be shared openly while coexisting with an underlying foundation of seeking to understand.  It's amazing to me the freedom that comes with a place of feeling totally loved and accepted, yet not agreed with.  One feels as though they are accepted for who they are and there is a freedom to be who you are without masks or cover-ups.  In life there is usually more than one perspective and recognizing that truth helps us to remember -- one perspective doesn't have to be right and the other wrong.

Acceptance does not mean agreement.  In this instance, acceptance does mean that you can be in the same room with someone , engage in conversation with them, even hang out and do things with them and you don't have to support their viewpoint.  Acceptance means that you can love someone -- even LIKE  them and come from two different directions on an issue.

Mary Anne Radmacher in her book Live Boldly tells this story.   "When my friends Suze and Jonathan got married, I gave them an unusual gift - a pair of opera glasses outfitted with prisms instead of long-distance lenses.  I told them to use these glasses when they were having a disagreement.  Why?  Because a prism provides so many different images of a single view.  It is a literal reminder that while one thing may be the subject of the argument, there can be so many different ways of looking at it." (C 2008 by mary anne radmacher:  pg 21)

I love that tangible picture.  Now when someone disagrees with me, I am reminded to hold their perspective up to the prism -- and not feel threatened or afraid that my perspective is wrong.  It's just one way of thinking about it out of many.

There she goes...

A few minutes ago our college girl left for the second semester of her freshman year.

I miss her already.

It's funny how time seems to pass quickly when you are in the throes of moments  in your life you want to last and last.  Those moments where you are eking out every second -- because  you know it will never be captured again….until the next time...which will be different.  This moment is the only time you will have this moment. 

I think back to when I was a kid.  I grew up in the rolling hills of the State of Ohio.   It was the perfect place to spend hours outdoors.  There was much to do outside...trails to hike, streams to walk in, hills to bike, trees to climb and everything else that living in the country has to offer.  One of my summer time memories is of catching fireflies in the evening and putting them in a jar.  I would carefully poke holes in a jar lid so as to let them breathe after I had caught them.  They would rise up out of the ground by the thousands -- and it was a wonderful sight to see them glowing as they lit up the night.  After catching enough to make the jar glow bright, I would take the lid off the jar and set it on the ground and let them escape at their own pace.  Sometimes they immediately flew out and away.  Other times, I would come back to my jar in the morning and there would still be one or two left inside.

This past month  I got to see Moriah's bright light glow as she was home on break.  I loved seeing her every day -- even when she came home from work exhausted.  I loved having her at the dinner table with her brothers and listening to them tease and joke and share.  I loved watching them interact, seeing the hugs they would share and witness their teamwork in the kitchen.  I loved watching Christmas Hallmark movies with her as she painted her nails.  I loved hearing her stories from her workplace and talking about the next semester and what was in store.  The house was brighter with her light adding to the mix.

Today, as Moriah was driving down the lane, I felt much like I did as I released the fireflies.  I loved the glow of the fireflies and enjoyed their presence.  Yet, I knew I had to release them.  I knew that I had to share their glow with the rest of the world or else they soon would lose their light.

Go shine in your world, my daughter.  Your light is very, very bright.

No longer and not yet

As a music teacher, part of my job is to teach rhythm.  For many students the notes come easy and the rhythm is hard.  For others, the rhythm comes naturally and learning the notes is a battle.   I love teaching rhythm.  I teach the student to verbalize the rhythm, clap it, tap it and play it.  It is easy to make games and make learning fun.  After awhile I let the students tap out the rhythms on their own, looking at a pattern of notation.  I find that one of the hardest things are for students to observe the rests in the pattern.

Silence is a powerful tool in music.  The space between sounds and notes can make one hungry for more.  It can make also make an impact leaving time for one to think about what has come before the rests.  Rests of any length create an energy, stopping the flow of sound.  Without the rests music would not stop from beginning to end.

I have learned a lot about myself in the past couple years.  I actually keep a list to review for a couple reasons:  one, because there has been much to absorb and two, it is hard to remember everything and keep it fresh.  Learning and integrating what I have learned takes reminders.  I have found not all lessons are learned the first time.  Not all characteristics are noted cognitively and internalized in one circumstance.  Not all emotions can be analyzed until the tide of emotion has gone out and thinking has taken place in a more peaceful moment.  Sometimes it takes repeated tries for a new skill or awareness to sink in.  Being human can be frustrating (spoken like  a closet perfectionist)!

One thing I have learned about myself is that I can be impatient much like some of my music students and not want to honor the space between no longer and not yet in my life.

So much can happen in that space.

Processing.  Peace.  Breathing.  Sleep.  Joy.  Being mindful.  Listening.  Forgiveness.  Acceptance.  Silence. 

If I get impatient or excited and want to move to the next thing, or shorten the period of rest to a shorter rest than what is deserved, then I miss the impact that the rest can have in me.  I not only will miss the impact, but might not learn the entire lesson I need to learn.  I am learning that a fermata (a hold) over the rest, the space that is between what was and what will be is something that doesn't stop the growth in my life, but accelerates how cognizant I become of what I am learning.  Resting allows me to be mindful of the lesson and gives me the time to integrate what I am learning.  It forces to me wait on my myself or others and not move on to the new thought, the new habit, the new issue that needs to be addressed.

Some people call this place the waiting room.  Some people call this a plateau.  Some call it a rest.  I call it the place between what was and what is yet to be.  Regardless of what you call it...the value of honoring that space is undeniable.

Lesson from Woolly Worms

I think the woolly worm is my favorite worm of all.   (Okay, typing that statement is weird!)

I am thinking about the woolly worm because I have seen so many lately.  My husband, Paul, and I like to ride bikes.  We have a certain route we take when our time is limited and on that route I notice things as I ride.  I notice crickets and grasshoppers, drying corn in the fields, the color of the leaves on the trees on the mountainside, the traffic (or lack thereof) on the route, the eggplant field and so much more.  But what has amazed me of late are the  woolly worms that have crossed my path on that route. 

Now, as a kid, when encountering a woolly worm, I would hold it and pet the spiky "fur" (or whatever it is called) and especially take notice of the color of the worm.  I have been told that a total black woolly worm means a cold harsh winter with lots of snow.  Brown woolly worms forecast a warmer, mild winter.  Woolly worms that are brown and black forecast an early cold or a mid-season warm and then a cool down again -- or the opposite depending upon where the black and brown are on the worm.

I must say, that the worms I have seen on the last few bike rides have blown my childhood weather forecasting basis right out of the water!  I have seen on the same ride one black woolly  worm, one brown woolly worm and at least one brown/black combo woolly worm.    HOW CAN THAT BE????

As I was riding along today thinking about this, I decided that there was a message for me in the woolly worms I had seen.  That message was that no one can forecast the future.   We might have indicators from nature about the weather (red sky at night sailor's delight/ red sky in the morning, sailor's warning), feel a cold coming on, but when you look into the future -- each day brings what it will bring and no one really knows what is coming next. 

What does that mean to me?  Live today in the moment.  Enjoy each moment.  Don't look for forecasts for this or that in life -- signs or woolly worms to tell me what is coming;  but get up, look at the sky and enjoy the sun/rain/clouds/fog/snow -- or whatever it might bring.  Get up in the morning and hug my husband and kids, tell them I love them -- and look forward to the adventure each day brings - come what may.  

Why do we avoid endings?

This week I have been thinking about endings.  I have been wondering a few things so I will put them in first person:  one -- why do I struggle finalizing the end of things -- projects, papers, tasks, et cetera?  two -- why do I think there is something still left to salvage when there is a clear need for more??  three -- why do I not like to say good-bye?  four -- why do I fear endings?

I find it hard to finalize projects because in my mind there is always more -- more to learn, more to perfect, more to strive for, more to write, more to think, more to discuss, more to catch..fill in the blank, more.  It's not the thought that it's not good enough - there is just MORE.  I can hold that note longer, have more resonance, find the perfect piece of art for that spot, make the recipe a little better, gain more confidence, find the connection more deeply....there is always MORE.

There is a part of me that doesn't think on empty -- I look at a glass with a few swallows of water in it as a waitress comes by and asks if I want more -- and I think to myself -- no, my glass isn't empty!  I don't need a refill yet.  It's the same feeling with leftovers -- if there is anything left - why make something new until you have eaten what is left from before?  If there is one more paper on that notepad...don't throw it away -- use it before you open a new one.  One more tissue - one more squeeze of toothpaste...you get the idea.

I find it hard to finalize projects because in my mind there is always more -- more to learn, more to perfect, more to strive for, more to write, more to think, more to discuss, more to catch..fill in the blank, more.  It's not the thought that it's not good enough - there is just MORE.  I can hold that note longer, have more resonance, find the perfect piece of art for that spot, make the recipe a little better....there is always MORE.

Then my mind goes to good-byes.  I would rather say "See you soon!"  "See you later!"  "Until next time!" than say "Good-bye!".  This is something I am noticing in myself that I wonder about.  Good-bye seems final.  Good-byes to people that I love, are just plain hard.  Closing down my studio time after time of moving from place to place to start again has been just plain hard.  Seeing friendships wax and wane -- is a form of good-bye and is hard.  Remember those seasons of life I spoke of in earlier posts? Sometimes, I want the season for a lifetime -- my lifetime.  Not the natural lifetime of the other person, thing, flower...et cetera.  I ask myself -- is it selfish of me to not want things to end?  Or am I afraid?

Maybe I don't like endings because I am a natural born planner (working on spontaneity in my life) and I can't foresee or forecast the next leg of the journey.  The unknown paralyzes for a time -- until it is known...and then most of the time once I have moved into the next phase I say to myself - see?  This isn't so bad!  In fact, it's better than expected! Maybe my fear of the unknown keeps me from ending things that should have been ended long ago -- like me hanging onto certain projects that haven't been finished for years  that are stored in tubs in the basement.  Or I think about that book I still have next to my bed that I don't want to shelve because I haven't finished it but yet I pick up other books to read instead of reaching for that one night after night.  Endings.  Hmmmm....

Maybe this is what my new approach should be when it comes to good-byes or endings.  Maybe I need to replace my fear-based thinking with possibility-based thinking.  I need to remind myself that with every ending a beginning starts.

If I think in beginnings...and look forward to beginnings...then maybe the endings won't be so scary.

"Living the Dream"

In my work as a SSA hearing reporter, I sometimes travel to remote hearing sites.  At those hearing sites, the applicant (claimant) and sometimes the lawyer appear at the remote site and we video-conference with the administrative law judge and expert witness and hold their appeal hearing.

At remote sites, the protocol is a bit different in that I have my own guard.  There is always a security risk when you are alone in a room with a stranger who might or might not be adversarial, so the guard is to protect and watch and hopefully their presence will prevent something bad from happening.

Anyway, I tell you this to introduce my latest thoughts on living.  There is a certain guard who has a creative answer when someone asks him how he is doing.  He answers, "I am living the dream."  He smiles as he says it, making you believe all is wonderful in his world.

I have heard his response so many times that lately one question floods into my thoughts and I want to ask him:  Whose dream are you living?

That question leads to another question:  And is that dream a pleasant dream or a nightmare?

I have a plaque that I have placed in our home and I look at it every day.  It says, "Live the life you have imagined."

Those two phrases, "Living the dream" and "Live the life you have imagined" have been ruminating inside my head now for months.

I challenged myself in the last few years to think about my life.   I have been speaking to my therapist, analyzing thoughts and motives, responses and choices.  I share my inner thoughts with a few chosen friends.  I have looked  back as far as I remember as well as to everything in the present days and what fell  between.  I have brainstormed, delved deep inside my motives and heart and processed in journals in order to reflect.  

As I have reflected upon my past, I asked myself:  What was the life I imagined myself living way back when my Cousin Becca and I were playing "secretary" or "library" on those many afternoons of imaginative play?  (Okay, we won't go into how we wore leotards on our heads in order to have long flowing hair at the time; or how we used index cards and made up our own Dewey decimal  system for our "library".) 

However, that question led me to the next question:  What is the life I now dream of living?

Which led to the next question:  Am I living that life and if not, what is it going to take to begin?

Sometimes our childhood dreams, innocent and pure, get hijacked.  They get hijacked by the expectations of others, the fear that dwells inside us,  the "oughts, musts or shoulds" that have been self-imposed or imposed by others , or dreams are limited by the resources that are available in our young lives.  Sometimes we don't trust ourselves in order to put one foot in front of the other to begin living out the dream.  Sometimes we feel it's easier to live out someone else's dream.

Now as an adult with a few years under my sandals, I see how the effects of my past choices affect my choices in the here and now.  If I let them, unrealized or half-lived dreams can affect my new dream positively or negatively.  It depends on the power and focus that I give to them.  The present dream, the life I imagine, is how I am living the here and now.  There is freedom in realizing that I have the power not only to dream and to imagine, but to LIVE the dream in my head.  Yes, there will be outside influences and circumstances that affect my dream, but the person steering the sailboat is me.  I choose to put the sails up or take them down, when to jibe and when to float along in the sea of life.   It's taken me a long time to realize that I am responsible for whose dream I am living.   I am responsible for making that dream a positive one or a living nightmare.  I am the creator and "imaginator" of the dream.  It's up to me to do the hard work not only to choose, but to live the dream I imagined.

Endings: Don't Abort! Don't Abort!

My family finished up a wonderful week at our favorite vacation spot.  Our time was near perfect to our expectations and we enjoyed every minute of being together - with the exception of the 14 hour travel time from home to our hideaway.  As we neared the end of our time away I noticed things:  none of us wanted the time to end.

Some of us got cranky and some became sad.  Some got anxious and started packing early.  Some procrastinated packing until the very last second perhaps thinking that if they put it off it might never need to happen and we could stay indefinitely.

I found that as we visited the local souvenir shop that other people seemed to have the same thought.  They were searching for that perfect token to trigger memories of the time they wanted to remember and wished would never end.

I have found that endings are often viewed as negative events.  Think of the endings you have experienced in your lifetime.  Even as a young child we experienced endings (positive or negative):  the end of crawling around when we started walking as our mode of transportation; school years ticking by; friendships change as re-locations happen; we finish great books or TV series that we have enjoyed; our first job ends; a deadline on a project ends; vacations come and go and time moves on as life offers more choices to begin new things, tasks, projects, experiences, and relationships.

Think about this thought:  "No one knew better than a gardener that life never stayed static.  Cycles were necessary, for without them there was no bloom." - Nora Roberts, In the Garden Trilogy.

I like this thought:  if not for the life cycle of each project, issue, relationship...we would not experience vibrant color and sweet fragrance that each brings to our lives.  We would miss those sweet blooms of taking vacations with family, the fragrance of life as we watch our children grow and experience life on their own, the vibrant eye-catching color of passion and romance in relationships, the showy palette of a project completed and accomplishment experienced as shade on our journey.

Endings don't have to be viewed as negative.  Within the perspective that something better is in the next bloom cycle, one can enjoy the current aesthetics of current bloom cycle and look forward to the next season at the same time.

Weebles Wobble

  Remember the toy in the 1970's - -the Weebles?  I can hear the commercial slogan in my head "Weebles Wobble but they don't fall down."  It brings back many childhood memories and now makes me think as an adult -- how cool would it be to wobble or come dangerously close to falling and yet spring back upright again and not fall down!

I have been thinking about resilience lately:  what makes some people resilient and others not so much.  I have witnessed in my own life people whom I would label, if I could, a Weeble.  I see them rise above or walk within their struggles in creative ways and continue living.  They are heroes in my opinion.  It's not that they aren't down at times or don't complain about their circumstances at times, but I think the difference is that they don't get stuck in their circumstance.  That is the difference.  They don't get stuck.

I have witnessed these people in my life.  They are people who face adversity in many forms:  chronic physical illness, mental illness, hard times of many sorts, relationship fractures, seasons of darkness or distraction or feeling lost, and the list goes on and on.  I am attributing the difference of the Weebles to their "Wobble Factor".  Some people wobble.  Some people fall.  Some people wobble a little.  Some people wobble a lot.  Some people wobble right to the edge of falling over or even lay almost parallel to the ground at times.  Some people get up after falling once or twice.  Some people never get up again.

I have been reading a book by Dr. Brene Brown called The Gifts of Imperfection.  In her studies she has found that there is a connection between hope and resilience.  She says she has found that hope is NOT a feeling.  That is contrary to what I have always thought.  There are scriptures about hope all through the Bible that I have read my whole life.  What she says adds to my thoughts about hope and makes sense.  In her studies she found that hope is a way of thinking (ch.3 page 73).  "Hope happens when:  we have the ability to set realistic goals, we are able to figure out how to achieve those goals including the ability to stay flexible and develop alternative routes, and we believe in ourselves."

This makes sense to me.

I know that in my life I have experienced things that have made me wobble.  Some things made me wobble a little.  Some things have knocked me to the floor.  Some issues were short lived.  Some issues aren't going away anytime soon and might be there forever.  If I focus on the issue itself, life gets dark and I find I lose hope.  But if I can look around my issue -- over, under, around and make a goal of how to live with it, create a plan, put the plan into action and keep it flexible to change under added circumstances, and believe that I can move forward in my life in some positive manner, then in my thinking that is the "Weeble Factor", i.e. resilience which fosters hope.

Weebles Wobble but they don't fall down.


Lamentations 3:21-26 (NKJV)
This I recall to my mind, therefore I have hope. Through the Lord's mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not.  They are new every morning;  Great is Your faithfulness.  "The Lord is my portion", says my soul, "Therefore I hope in Him!".

The Next Chapter

I have shared in my past posts that I am an avid reader.  Reading to me is like the best dessert -- an escape -- something I look forward to in my free time to open my mind to new thoughts and topics and hopefully not only escape but learn something as I read.  As I read, the more I get into the book the more I look forward to....the next chapter.  In the next chapter, the plot continues and the information I gathered in the story line culminates, furthering the journey, no matter the genre of the book. 

Today, in my life, I am very close to ending one chapter and beginning the next.  In just a couple days the transition will take place with a new Chapter Heading and life moving forward.  Am I looking forward to this chapter?  Oh yes, I definitely am.  Even so, life continues whether we want it to or not.   Alas, I am ready for the next chapter.

Thinking about the next chapter makes me think of a few things:  does looking forward to the next chapter mean that I want to totally disregard the one I am finishing?   Do I forget this chapter and all that I have lived?  No.  Not in the least.  In this chapter of my life I have made wonderful friends and positive things have happened in my family.  It has been exciting and full of changes on many levels.  I have been allowed to be a part of so many people's lives and walk alongside them.  That is a privilege I do not take lightly.   I have seen our children grow and mature and walk into their own personal next chapter.  I have experienced the love of a man who loves me deeply and I have loved him in return and known such joy for the effort.  Some of my life long dreams have come true.  There has been so much good in this chapter.  But I would not be sharing the whole story if I didn't also mention the disappointments and hurt that has been along the path.  Life doesn't come without potholes and I have experienced what seems like more than my share of them on this leg of the journey.  The lessons I have learned along the way have been priceless, however.

So that being said and remembering that the journey is a culminating one, I take those memories and lessons and joys into this next chapter.   I bring with me new connections and deep friendships that I didn't have previously.  I don't disregard the lessons learned, for hopefully I will have learned them well and  be aware of the same potholes again.  I look forward with anticipation to the next chapter, embracing the transition fully.  It's not good-bye -- it's time to live the next chapter!