I can see clearly now....

Today I had my eyes dilated.  

One thing you probably don't know about me is that when I was a toddler I had an eye injury that almost took my sight in my right eye.  Every eye doctor who has looked in my eye since that time has said the same thing, "WOW!  Look at that!  What happened to you?  THAT'S AMAZING -- you are one lucky girl that you can even see anything out of that eye."  They go on and on as they look at the scars and pigment floating inside my eye and the jagged scar across the outer lens of my eye.  Today was no different.

You see, I have vision in both eyes -- not good vision, but I am able to see.  I am GRATEFUL for corrective lenses for without them my world would be one big blur.  When things are blurry and out of focus constantly you end up second guessing yourself, your judgment, your thoughts -- basically everything around you.  Your depth perception is non-existent -- field of vision -- peripheral vision -- nothing is clear.  Your world turns gray and dark as you try to feel your way around -- counting steps -- choosing the familiar.

Today as I stepped out of the ophthalmologist's office all I could think was WOW!  It's a bright, bright world out here! I had to head back into the building to find my sunglasses in my bag, put them on and then head out once again into the brightness of the day.  The thing is today is actually a very cloudy day.  No sunshine, no shadows -- just heavy cloud cover. Most people would say it's a gray overcast day -- yuck.  I might even have said that -- as I went into the office.  Coming out of the office, however, my mindset had completely changed.

Isn't that funny how a single event can change your perspective?  

Maybe you had three choices -- and now only two -- and what was less in your perspective just became more.  Maybe you were almost run over -- and your perspective on life shifted so that you are thankful for living one more day.  Maybe what used to be important -- just faded into the background as you are choosing to live in this moment -- not past moments.  

I know I have spoken a lot about perspective.  That's because mine is changing.  I hope you will bear with me while I share.

There is so much in one's life that can change in an instant.  We tend to gravitate towards those "events" in our lives:  the close calls; the missed calls; the opportunities not taken.  We focus on what could have been rather than what IS.  Today, I want to choose to be grateful for what IS.  Not only do I choose to be grateful for what IS --but WHO is.

I am grateful for those who choose to be present with me.  I am grateful for those who choose to show me that they love me and work to include me in their circle of influence.  I am grateful for those people who respond to my friendship, laugh with me, and spend time with me.  Being grateful for those around me helps keep my focus outward, but I am also learning to be grateful for me.  

Me.  

My thoughts, my feelings, my weirdness.  Me.

Some people would call that narcissism.  Some would call it selfishness.

Others call it self-love.  Positive self-esteem.  Positive regard for oneself.

See, I'm learning to regard myself as someone who counts.  Someone who has worth.  Someone who has value and who might not be like E.F. Hutton, but who might have a nugget here and there to share.  I am learning that there is nothing wrong with thinking such things or saying such things because I still know where I came from and who my Maker is.  Trust me -- learning positive self-talk is not an easy thing for me.  I struggle with self-love.  It's much easier to love others than myself.

I think I need to remember to look at myself through dilated pupils every day.  I need to remember those close calls, but not stop there.  I need to let them open a world of not only what IS, but WHO IS.

The VOID

These words crossed my FB feed one day from the Healing Hugs web page.  Loss.  It comes in all sizes and packages and isn't always about people.  Sometimes we lose things that represent memories in our journey -- those tangible symbols of  a time that was memorable:  good or bad.  Feelings of loss can arrive after realizing the loss of losing something that makes us feel good, like a favorite pair of shoes or jacket.  Feelings of loss happen when connection is lost between two people or pets.  It doesn’t matter what the type of relationship.  There is a void where the connection once was and it's hard to know what in the world to do with that empty space the void creates.

Truly, I don't think the reason for the loss matters.  There could be many different reasons for losing connection.   Temporary loss of connection could be as simple as losing cell phone connection in the middle of a conversation.  It could be the loss you feel when your child goes on a weekend trip or to summer camp; or if your partner is deployed and you know it's going to be a long season of multiple months away causes feelings that connection is lost.  Maybe you stay connected occasionally with friends or family and you haven't heard from them in weeks or months -- a longer period of time than usual -- and that creates a feeling of loss.  There are many other scenarios -- fill in one that comes to your mind that you have experienced.  A temporary loss can be devastating, but one thing differs from permanent loss -- there is the hope and knowledge  that the loss of connection will end.  Your child will come home from camp or the weekend away;  your partner will come home (hopefully safely) at the end of deployment; family members or you yourself will pick up the phone and text or call or write and connection resumes again sometimes even stronger than before.

Long-term loss feels different to me.  It has an underlying foundation of hopelessness.  In terms of long-term loss -- one can hold out hope for a season and sometimes the season is long -- months, years, decades and sometimes a lifetime.  There is hopelessness, but yet a mustard-grain seed of faith keeps some spark alive that things will change and connection will be restored.  This is a hard place to be.  Connection takes two entities and if one is unwilling or unable or the connection didn't mean as much to them as it did to you,  it might be easier for them to move on ahead and fill the space that you once occupied in their mind, their heart, their spirit than for you to do so.  This particular waiting room can be a painful place to reside.  Wondering during the season of un-connectedness can be excruciating.    "What-if land" can be filled with fear, suffering, loss, mourning, and even anger.  Feelings of not being enough are ever present on the surface.   Frustration, anger, and sadness can flow in and out of your emotions when certain memories are triggered and yet, if good memories come to mind, joy and sadness coexist in a way that befuddles the mind. 

Permanent loss is devastating in that there no longer is any hope.  There is no light of reconciliation or re-connection.  Only time can blunt the sharpness of the loss and the time frame is different for everyone depending upon the deepness of your connection.  In this place of darkness, it takes great effort to acknowledge the loss and even more effort to acknowledge the permanence of it.  This path in the shadows of one's journey can change your life.  Some get stuck in this place.  Some stay stuck for awhile and then begin to take tiny shuffle-steps forward out of the darkness and into the shadows of memories gone by.  Over time, one might move forward into the sunshine even just a little bit by focusing not on the loss, but the joy of what once was -- the connection  between two beings that filled you with happiness and joy for even but a part of your journey.  To celebrate the relationship that lasted only for awhile is a gift you can give to yourself.   Acceptance of the closed door named hope is essential to moving out of the shadows and into the light.

 As the quote says above, one of the hard things about loss is what do you do about the empty space the loss of connection leaves behind?  Some people don't want to fill the emptiness.  They feel that focusing on the space that once was filled is a way of keeping the memories alive.   It might seem as though hope is there -- even though the knowledge of reality says differently.  Denial keeps your feet from moving in any direction.  The fight to keep that sacred space empty can cause physical, mental, emotional and spiritual  issues.  Other people in our lives might not be able to understand why keeping the space free of anything else is so important to you and it could wear on other relationships.  

For others, filling the space might be easier.   They just get busy.  They get busy doing whatever it is their calendar can hold.  For some, they might try and throw meds in the hole or drugs at the space or pretend it doesn’t exist.  Some try to sleep it away.  The space can be filled.  It is our choice to choose what to put into the void.  I'm not saying this is easy by any stretch.  It's not.   Sometimes we don't choose arbitrarily.  Sometimes life helps us choose.  Either way, hopefully some day we can look back on that space of connection and name it and cherish it and turn our face toward the sun and life forward in our journey.

Does filling the space mean forgetting?  Absolutely not.    One perspective is that we are lucky to have had experienced something so beautiful along our path and that is why it is so hard to say good-bye.  It is possible to celebrate the lost relationship and fill the space they once held with healthy reminders or activities or new relationships that foster taking care of yourself during this time.    Self-care while spending time in the void is critical to moving ahead into the sunlight.  There also might be others in your sphere of influence who are fellow "void-dwellers" -- those people who are experiencing loss of their own.  Together you might find a safe place to reminisce and celebrate or express the gamut of emotions loss brings.  

Our life journey will bring losses of many types.  My hope is that we can realize that we are not alone on the path.  We just might need to look around for others who have emerged in the shadows or for those who have stepped into the sunlight of their own path to help. 

COMPASS POINT:  There are community groups called Griefshare that focus on paths of loss.   Perhaps they would be of help at this time in your journey.  Here is the link for more information:  www.griefshare.org.

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.

Growing pains: thoughts on feelings

Whenever I think of the word "feelings"  my mind automatically goes to the first five words of the song "Feelings by Louis Gasté, 1973.  "Feelings, nothing more than feelings..."

WOW.  That's a blast from the past, isn't it? 

Embedded in my memory are those five words and the tune.  In my journey of late, this is the area I am concentrating on.  Let me admit to you -- this is hard work. 

Now, as you read this, you might think:  "You are a woman.  All you have are feelings and you are in tune with them being of the female gender."  I will admit.  I  have feelings, but I am not always in tune with them.  That's the problem.

Oftentimes it's hard to even put into words what I am feeling, so I have taken to carrying around a feelings chart I found online.   Words mean things to me -- and being able to identify what is passing through my mind and heart and spirit is meaningful to me -- and hard work.  In the past, I have buried my feelings until they have come up and out like a volcano (not always in a positive manner).  Now, on this leg of my journey, I am understanding that healing and moving forward means acknowledging what I am feeling and speaking it.   Good, bad, or ugly -- name it.  Don't judge it.  Name it.

Now this might sound kooky -- but  am beginning to practice naming things.  I look around and see things and name them.  Then I ask myself -- how does that thing, person, event -- whatever I named -- make me feel in this moment.  Not what it made me feel in the past.  Not what it might feel like tomorrow -- but right now.  The words I use go beyond your basic feeling words of sad, happy, angry -- and become more specific:  joyful, disappointed, loving, valuable, confused, and so on.

Blogging these very thoughts makes me feel vulnerable.

I believe that being able to name what I am feeling, not what I am thinking (which comes much easier for me), is part of my healing.  It is part of beginning to trust myself and others.  It is part of recognizing who I was created to be.  It is the foundation of being able to love in the agape way.  I want to grow in my relationships and in order to do that, the growth starts with me.

My therapist gave me homework.  I am to start thinking about and finish the following statement: 

"I feel _____________, when you _______________.  I need _______________." 

This is one of the hardest homework assignments I have ever done.  To not only have to NAME my feeling but to point out what brought that feeling on -- AND say aloud what I need (which is also extremely hard for me to voice) is exhausting.  It also is freeing.  It is teaching me I can acknowledge how I am feeling and what brought that feeling on  without laying blame -- and also frees me to say what I need in that moment.

I am experiencing growing pains.  This journey isn't all about smelling the roses.  Sometimes the path gets muddy and I have to get stuck in the mud and lose my shoes before moving forward out of the pit to more solid ground.

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.

Sometimes you gotta go

Every day I head outside at some point and look for my two horses.  Usually they aren't in the paddock or barn unless it is raining or snowing.  Usually they are in the pasture doing what they love to do -- eat.  

Now let me tell you a bit about my two four legged friends.  They both are geldings.  For you who are non-horse people  -- that means they are male.  They are older than 15 years.  We don't have paperwork on them and bought them from people who didn't raise them -- so with horses it's a guess of age by looking at physical signs.  That being said -- they have been around a few years.  We rescued Ryker last fall on our honeymoon.  He came to us starved -- about 400 pounds or more underweight and hungry.  VERY hungry.  We started loving on him, which for him meant feeding him.   I spent time with him, groomed him, and took him on walks on a lead rope.   It was weeks before I tried to get on his back.  He lacked muscle tone and stability.  Over time, he started to gain weight and I started exercising with him (basically he trotted -- I jogged beside him).  He was my buddy and always looked for me.  When I called -- he would come in an instant because my presence equated food.  

Enter Casanova onto the scene a few months later.  He is a paint mix breed.  Beautiful and stout and in great shape.  He quickly made friends with Ryker -- and now they are best buddies and don't like to be separated in any way -- especially in the pastures or on the trail or even if I am working with one -- the other is calling "Where are you???" from the stall.

So lately, as I go out to greet them and give them a little grain and a little loving each day -- I find that sometimes  Ryker doesn't come right away any more.   After a year of good feeding and exercise, Ryker has gained his weight back and is able to carry extra weight and be ridden.   I find that when I call, he doesn't come as readily.  In my opinion, he acts as though he is content with his pasture and friend and doesn't  seem to "need" my extra attention (as I try to personalize his behaviour).  Nevertheless, on those days when he hears me, and looks at me from across the pastureland and acknowledges me, but doesn't start moving towards me -- I call again and wait.  Then I call one more time and wait.  Some days, it just takes a second call.  Some days, it takes a third call.  Some days, he doesn't come at all -- and I go out to him.

I go out to him.  

Now some people would say -- that horse should come to you every time.  And part of me believes that.  But part of me says - why should he have to come to me all the time?  Why shouldn't I show him that I want to be with him -- and put forth the effort?  So on those days, I do put forth the effort.  I head out with a handful of grain or a carrot or just a smile and friendly words and find him wherever he might be.

As I have been thinking of good friendships and relationships this week, it struck me that if I want people in my life, I need to go to them.  But also, they need to come to me.  Healthy relationships don't end when one person stops being needy.  I believe both people can be healthy and still keep compromising, still reach for one another's presence in order to stay connected.  If we want someone in our life, we can't expect them to do all the reaching, nor can we do all the reaching.  It takes effort on both sides.  

Now, what would happen if I never made the effort to go out to the pasture?  Ryker would be fine with his grass.  He would be happy with his buddy Casanova and their relationship.  But our connection over time would fade if he didn't make the effort to see me or I didn't make the effort to see him.  Life would move on -- but a friendship would be lost.

Time to head out to the pasture...and find my friend.