How to Live a Life

There comes a time in our world when we are honored with the privilege of watching a loved one pass from this world to the next. Human reaction is sadness, fear, despair. All such valid emotions; we are so used to our loved one being there with us, for us – they are a part of the fabric of who we are. Some beliefs consider that our loved ones have gone home to be with Jesus – that Jesus call them home. Others believe that our loved ones walk in the spirit world; some choose to believe that our loved ones become our angels in heaven and are there to guide us through the next phases of our existence. I have no idea what the truth is, and honestly, it doesn’t really matter in the long run what I believe. Personally, I love the idea that my loved ones are my angels watching over me, but I do not presume to know the truth.

I have lost loved ones quickly, unexpectedly with no way to help. I have stood by their side, trying to make them as comfortable as possible, helpless to do so. My path, so far, has been to be on the sidelines, and as long as I am alive, that will be my destiny.

One day someone will mourn the loss of me in this world, but for now it is my job to be there for those I love. We all have our journey, we all live our own dash. Our stories are our own, and yet they are all so fleeting. To me the lesson is to live in each moment the best we can. It makes my heart a bit sad to know that the sun will rise tomorrow whether I am here to see it or not. To know that the seasons will pass, and that new lives will be born and lived and I will not be a part of it all. I am today, and that is the most important thing for me to remember; I am here today and I have freedom of choice to how I live each day. I absolutely love my life, our world and all that is in it.

I try to live my personal life as I see fit. I have the freedom to say yes and no to options. I often say yes to too many things and it causes my days to fill rapidly, leaving me wondering why I said yes and how to begin to say no. My work is not the same, though. It is not as rewarding as I once believed it would be. Work is such a touchy thing in our society. We have changed throughout the course of history into what we are today. Since the dawn of mankind it seems that we struggled to survive; it was about meeting our needs in the way of food, shelter, and clothing. That pretty much made up a lifetime. Things changed over time; inventions, creations; thing meant to improve lives. We relied on our community sometimes; it takes a village, as the saying goes. It seems as we created more things to make life easier, it became infinitely more complicated, however. In American society we now think that Who we are is a direct result of What it is we do for a living. It slides through the fingers of my thoughts – I can actually visualize fingers in my mind that have these thoughts sliding through them. Why have we made our lives so very complicated? I do have to go to work on Tuesday. I do have a house to pay for, a car to pay for, I do have bills to pay, because that is what I have worked for in my life. But why, really? In the long run none of that truly matters. Really, why do we waste so much time on things such working so very hard?



I love walks in the woods, viewing the ocean, sitting in silence appreciating a moment. It seems to me that those should be the focus of our lives. And yet we become so tied up in making money, working in a job, letting others change the direction of our lives. Ultimately aren’t our lives our own? How in the world did we ever get so off track? So the idea has been on my mind lately – how to change this. For now I do need to go to work Tuesday. I do need to focus on the task at hand. I do need to do a job. But, I also owe it to myself to figure out a better way to do so. Because to work as I do, where I do, with those I do? That is taking a toll on my own life, my own personality. I have to figure out a way to meet my own needs first instead of everyone else coming first. That is my goal now. To figure out a better way to live my life.

When I am on my deathbed. When loved ones are gathered around – or, when I suddenly take my last breath unaware? I want my life to be more than what it is right now. I want to know that I did all I could to live a valid, true life. That I allowed myself happiness and freedom, and that I lived the very best I could.

There, But For The Grace of God, Go I

I started feeling a little agitated a little while ago. It was a trifle; in the grand scheme of events in my life, a little nothing. I’ve been through so much more turbulence and strife, and truthfully my life is really pretty balanced as a whole right now. Little nothings have been getting to me a lot lately, though. I have felt edgy and off balance, most especially in the last few days. I was reading yesterday about the upcoming Blood Moon and total lunar eclipse due this Friday night. It seems that the moon and its pull really do have more of an effect on us than we realize. According to an article I read in Elephant Journal this is because the moon is the closest astronomical body to us. Moon phases are more powerfully energetic and are considered truly magically momentous. These mystic moments affect us physically, emotionally, and mentally. I am a believer of the moon and its pull on us, so it resonated when I read further about cosmic sensations that can emanate during a full moon total eclipse, and how they are believed to be much more compelling and powerful than other phases. It is expected that the lunar energy we receive during this full moon eclipse will be the most intense of a 100 year time span. I felt immensely and instantly better, having something to pin on this odd cloud hanging over me. I don’t want to say it’s a complete dark cloud – I am not unhappy. But I am a little on edge, and it actually feels better for me to know it is written on the moon. Lunar eclipses are mysterious and can reflect back on us as a stormy sea of emotion; much as the pull of the moon affects the tides and ocean currents. They are not only about negative energy or considered always turbulent. Energy can be both good and bad; it depends on the individual’s place in life; attitude, including one’s personal astrological signs. Eclipse phases also may cause us to want to heal ourselves; to declutter our lives from belongings or situations; even end a relationship, change our career, stop with bad habits or make lifestyle changes including moving to new places. The changes that happen are often things we have been working hard to manifest, and the eclipse helps us along by moving our lives accordingly, as it magnetically pushes and pulls us as it calibrates our energies. I was talking with a friend yesterday and we brought up the subject of this article and feeling edgy. She feels much the same as I. Souls who are more sensitive to energy may feel impatient or anxious, and if something big is about to happen as we wait for the moon phase to complete. The article also goes on to say that now is the perfect time to manifest even the most far-fetched of our dreams. So now is the time, I guess, to ask for that next step in my career, for clarity on where to go with my writing; to make sure I ask for a really good upcoming school year. Nothing too far-fetched for this Full Blood Moon Eclipse.

There is more to my edginess right now than the moon – although it is with some relief that I allow the possibility to be there. I got slightly annoyed with a store I was in. My teachers discount card ran out on 5/31. The cashier informed me that they no longer give the cards in the store and I have to go online to apply. It stumped me. I was very calm. I told her I knew it wasn’t her fault, but that was really not quite right, since I was in the store in person and not using it online. She blinked at me and shrugged her shoulders. I was appalled. At the new policy; the old card last year was given in the store. But more at her reaction; it was an oh-well kind of thing. I did not get angry, and I quietly left with my purchase, but as I drove away I thought, wow. There was no remorse or compassion. As I said earlier; in the grand scheme of things, that really is nothing. And yet it is. It is a long line of tiny little inconveniences that occur every day in our society. It seems more and more that people are unwilling, or unmotivated to be kind or courteous. And worse, it seems that it doesn’t occur to people to always act in the best interest of kindness. As a kind person, this really saddens me. When I got home I retrieved my mail. In there was a coupon from one of this store’s competitors. It said “We (heart) teachers. Teacher Discount 15% off every day!” So. There you go. Karma, maybe? According to Buddhist thinking, karma magnifies. A small action can bring about a big result if it is done with good intention.

Now, the real reason for tamping down my own irritation; karma and a lunar eclipse aside. In the long run, none of that above really matters. I was thinking of my sister and how I wanted to call her and gripe about the incident, but as soon as I thought it I thought, no. Absolutely not. Yesterday and today she has spent by the bedside of her best friend who is in the final stages of life. She holds her hand, tries to comfort the agony in her friends body as it prepares for death. In the grand scheme of life, that trivial moment in my life just does not matter. I am NOT discounting my own life and my own worries; I am not discounting the big and little things that happen. But you know what I really realized as I drove down the road home? I was able to walk out of that store. I was able to be slightly put out. I was driving my own car on my own volition. I was watching the approaching storm and I was thinking on my own. I am anticipating going back to work soon, and worried about all the changes that are going on. I am not lying in a bed unable to do even the smallest of tasks on my own, waiting for death to take me from this life. But, Dear God. Thank you for these things. For my health, my awareness, my life, my breath. Thank you for this moment of mindfulness. I do understand life is fleeting. One day it will be me and those tiny trivial things will absolutely not matter to me.
Life goes on always around us. There is sun and it shines on us somewhere on our planet daily. It is not a guarantee, ever, and most of the time we do not stop to count our blessings and be grateful for those tiny moments. Those little moments add up and create the story of our lives. It is with blessings of joy that birth occurs. What an extraordinary miracle, and we are each filled with ecstasy and astonishment. Having been where my sister is right now, I also recognize that what she is doing is monumentally beautiful. Many people give birth each and every day. Not many people are given the privilege of providing tender final care as their loved ones’ body prepares for death. It is so hard to watch and to wait; it is interminable, and yet it is so fast all at once, and it is also equally as miraculous as birth; human bodies know what to do without any assistance. Life and death are astonishing phenomenon. My heart hurts for my sister; for all of them. I can send my prayers; I can ask my angels to please be with them, but I am powerless to take any of that sadness from their shoulders. This, too, is one of the particulars of life. We cannot walk in anyone else’s shoes, but we can recognize that there, but for the grace of God go I. For today, I can still notice irritations and joys; one day it will be my turn, and none of this will matter again in this lifetime.

Paying Attention

Charleston, SC

I ran into an old friend today. We have known each other for over 30 years – we met when I worked at a local business here in Plant City. She needed help correcting water issues in her home, and she needed help with her pool water. Once upon a time I was very knowledgeable about both things. We fixed both issues for her, and every time she came in to the shop after that, we chatted about everything under the sun. I was either in the early stages of my life with Steve or we were newly married; I cannot remember which. I just know when I met her; it was a long time ago. She had been married for a while and she had several children; they had to have been pre-teen or younger then, since she will soon be 65. Through the years, we have run into each other at such random, odd moments. She worked for years at USF, and then she went back to school herself for teaching. USF is actually one of the places we ran into each other; it’s a big place, so that was a very random meeting. She’s retired now, but ended up subbing for a short time – she was so glad, she said, that she never expanded the teaching career she went to college for, and she’s enjoying life and her grandchildren now. She and her husband divorced after one of her birthday parties; she went on a trip with friends, came home and knew it was the right thing to do. She is bubbly and exuberant; a wonderful breath of fresh air, and running into her never fails to boost my spirits. Each time we meet, we promise we will be in touch, and then time passes and we just get busy with living our lives. This time I believe she is a person I can use in my life, so I will try harder to keep the friendship active.

I have another friend with whom the same thing happens. I met her when she was new to Plant City from Michigan. She was a new mom, and she wanted friends; wanted to start a coffee club, but I worked full time and could never make it. And truthfully, back then, Steve was my entire life. Friendships were not easy to nurture; I’d had a bad experience and was a bit friend-gun-shy. Again, time passed. Every few years we run into each other; book store, grocery store, places like that. She does not live close by anymore. She ended up divorcing her husband, and then, before the divorce was finalized; or maybe just after, he died. It left her in a terrible place, I think; loss, children to raise, a new life to live. She went back to school and she worked in the medical field somehow. She remarried some years ago, and I see her at a church in Tampa when we go there for their annual festival.

Old gas station in the hills near
Layser Caves, Randle, WA

Life has such a funny way of prodding us, doesn’t it? It sends people or things in our direction; moments that we did not know we needed. Like finding a gas station out in the middle of nowhere - or when mankind first discovered fire; who knew we needed those things until we saw them first?

Manitou Springs, CO.

Sometimes we need that thing people bring us for just a moment; maybe we are down in the dumps or sad, and little random moments can bring us to a different point. I try to pay attention to those little moments now, but that has not always been the case. I think of the moments in my life that I have just let slip by. It is not with regret I remember some of them, but with the intention of not letting life slide by me continually anymore.

 In her book Big Magic Liz Gilbert speaks of creativity and how the muse inside of all of us does come nudging and knocking; it is asking us to pay attention, to give it lip service; to write, to paint, to call someone who comes to mind out-of-the-blue; regardless of what that urge might be. Sometimes thoughts or ideas are fleeting and they float on past us to grab onto someone who is paying attention. Sometimes those thoughts or ideas come around again, elbowing and bumping their way back into our consciousness, giving us another chance. I believe my writing muse has done that to me. Writing been part of my life for so long, and yet I let it lay dormant for many years; the married years, mostly, and I was married just short of 19 years. I dabbled here and there; poetry (hundreds of poems, honestly), story ideas started and abandoned; a journal begun, then set aside. Thoughts that pop into my head as I drive to or from work. Sometimes I  come home and jot them down and save them, but I can only imagine that I have lost more ideas than have actually stuck with me. More is the pity, right? When my muse came poking at me earlier this year I took it seriously. I started writing regularly and with commitment, not really know what it was I was going to do with it. But I have continued it, and today is my 141st day of writing at least 750 words a day.

Julia Cameron suggests, in her book The Artist’s Way, that writing 750 words a day is the key to releasing our creative spirits. Her idea is to write first thing in the morning, when the mind is fresh; before any chores, before any activity. She says it is not the same sort of release at night; night writing tends to be more about rehashing your day, rather than starting with the same vigor and newness we hold in our minds each morning. I tried getting up early each day, writing by hand in a composition book, and I was successful for a few months, but it was hard for me. I wake up very early as it is, and rising even earlier to write just was not a feasible addition to my day. If my lifestyle were different, it might have been a longer, more successful release of my creativity. It was not meant to be for me at that time, but my current method seems to be helping. I feel more released, more vibrant, more aware of myself, and I know I have been writing more; that was my goal. Writing makes me happy, and it makes me sane. I have accomplished a goal I set for myself, and that is something I am proud of. Now to decide which direction I want to go with it; how to market myself and maybe begin to add it to career possibilities, which has been my goal since I learned how to read and write. One step at a time, one day at a time; one word at a time.

Seven Falls, Colorado Springs, CO.

Climbing a rocky path

 I've been stewing in my own juices the last few weeks. I am not a believer in dwelling in a past I cannot change. Part of my philosophy in life is not spending too much time worrying about where I have been or what has happened. I believe I just need to move forward, because continually living backwards can solve nothing in the now. But I have been caught up in a trap of worrying about what every little thing might mean; looking back, moving forward, where to go, trying to not go blindly with each emotion or indecisive moment. I have been considering at what point the worry began, in order to see if these fears inside of me are really about something more than what they appear to be on the surface. Self-reflection, meditation, just plain thoughts; are these really helping me figure out why I feel so disjointed right now?

This is where the Power of Now gets a little dicey. Despite my firm belief in the philosophy as a whole, I sometimes feel the need to figure out where the path I was walking on veered from the course I intended; the one I thought I was on. I have to stop and consider my next step. It's like walking a rocky path along a cliff.

I cannot walk blindly. I have to take that first step, and that in itself is often where my hardest conflict lies. After that first step taken, I consider the next, and I proceed, stopping now and then to reconsider. Caution? Fear? Practicality? Quite honestly, rocky paths are a challenge for me. First, because of my very real fear of heights.

It has increased as I have aged, yet I live by the credo that I will NOT be one of those women afraid to do anything difficult. There is so much in life to fear, and if I allow fear to rule my life, I will sit in a corner afraid to leave the house. That is not going to happen to me. I will keep going and moving, experiencing winding mountain roads or rocky hills, despite nauseating fear.

Once I am on top of a mountain I can look out in awe and wonder, and I am so grateful for the adventure, despite the wobbling knees, the flutter in my stomach - those are temporary and the angst is so worth going through to experience euphoria and wonder. Rocky paths are also a physical challenge to me that they once were not. As a youth, I blithely took that path, took the stairs, not worrying or considering the state of my legs or my knees. Injury, over use, under-use can all create physical challenges never considered until recently. Being out of breath climbing into heights because I now live at or below sea level is an issue; but I believe huffing and puffing help to increase lung capacity, so I don't judge myself for that; my lungs are strong and healthy; they just are more in tune with soupier, heavier air which is a side-effect of living in Florida.

The issue for me is often the path itself; it climbs, descends, twists, turns into unknown places. Ultimately the top comes into view, but it is that unknown area in-between that can be cause for consideration. Sometimes there are roots I can use as stepping stones and one step becomes another effortlessly. Sometimes I have to look up to keep going, sometimes down at my feet. Now and then I have found myself taking a step or two back in order to find firmer footing. I don't just run blindly on and up; I do have to stop and consider my options now and then. So my self-evaluation, self-work, self-talk? All that has been about why I feel as I do and what to do about it; I have to know where I turned in order not to walk exactly that path again. I don't want to slide backward down the slope I just worked so hard to climb.

My heart is lonely. It is lonely for many things. I think loneliness, heartache, pain, tough situations - all those are hard things to feel, yet the heart and our minds need them in order to feel grateful for the better wonderful feels. I am lonely of my own accord. Loneliness is an odd emotion. It can be beneficial and healing, or it can become hard to live with. I have become more solitary over the last year. I can pinpoint part of the reason for that. I came back from last summer vacation feeling really physically good. My lungs were strong, my legs stronger. We drove across the country from New York, through Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana, Wyoming, Idaho, Washington, and I flew home from Oregon. There was a lot of walking, a lot of climbing mountains, and it was a wonderful adventure. Sitting alone on a mountain top in quiet silence, listening to the wind, feeling the sun, watching eagles soar; very much worth the climb. Flying home was long, the flights, over-booked, crowded as is pretty much the norm now. Both flights home had me next to a window, and in one part my backpack did not even fit under the seat in front of me.

They were tight flights, both, and there was no room to stretch. So, my very short legs, not really needing too much room anyway, rebelled at the chilled air, the inactivity and the limited space causing my right hamstring to tighten.

It took me a week or so to limber it back up, and then I tripped at work, and it weakened further. A week or so after that, I was angry at the constant pain and I was trying to walk it off, to exercise it back to healthy, and it tore. I heard it rip and pop as it gave out and I went down. It was scary. I was on crutches for several weeks, and the effort of walking was excruciating. It took about 6 months to heal well, and in that time I sat. I isolated myself from my friends, from a lot of activity or noise. Which was in a way good; it set me farther along my metaphysical road; I read more about alternative, natural health and wellness. I learned methods to help both my mind and my body, and it made me happy, and both my mind and body began to feel really good. This summer's adventure to the northeast coast (upstate New York, the Adirondacks, Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine) further strengthened my legs, and I feel physically better than I have in a few years. But over the course of the year, in the process of silence and healing I isolated myself from my friends. Time marches on; what is the phrase; time waits for no man? It hasn't affected the depth of my friendships, but it has made me realize how much I am alone; everyone has a life to lead, and my day to day life is very quiet because mostly everyone is busy with their own life. When I needed the alone, healing time, I had it, and I cherished it. But I find my heart in a different place this summer, and I am not quite sure where that is. Loneliness is part of it. The rest is what I am working on figuring out.


I have strayed so far from my original thoughts. I found myself thinking just now - now what was my original question or thought? It makes me smile at myself. Writing does that to me. It is my catharsis. My life rope. It makes my mind go in the direction it needs to go sometimes in order to come across answers that I did not know I needed. I was giving myself permission to look back across the way I came; to look and evaluate my thoughts and feelings about where I turned to cause the feelings to be stirring inside of me as they are. I sometimes feel conflicted because I do not want to dwell on what cannot be changed. I believe I do learn from where I have been. Self reflection and self evaluation help me determine the "whys" of my life. I wonder if this is true mindful thinking?

As I ask myself that question, I kind of answer it myself and I think, yes it must be. To be mindful means to be aware of who we are. We don't necessarily have to know where we are going, because our next step; God, fate, destiny -whatever you believe in, help to determine that. But it does help to look back from time to time; to remember an easier way to do (or not do) a task. That cannot help influence our lives. We can't change where we have been, but we can use more wisdom about where we are going. That is one of my personal goals - to be more wise, to be more mindful about my next step along my path of life.

Observing Life as a Voyeur

I watched a Hallmark movie last night. I admit, I am a Hallmark movie junkie. I love them, although I understand the stories can often be less-than-plausible, and they are a bit hokier than real life. Still. I love the idea of romance. And I especially love the Christmas movies. Romantic at heart, I am. Right now it is July, but it is Christmas in July for now, and last night I watched part of one and another followed. I did not catch all of the first one, but the plot (The Mistletoe Inn, maybe?) was based on a woman who wanted to be a writer. Somehow she ends up at a holiday writer’s retreat, and the main speaker was a famous romance writer. Of course, he is shrouded in mystery and no one quite knows who he is, and it turns out the main character and he became friends, then they became romantically involved. He critiques her work and she is despondent until he whisks her away from the retreat to New York City where her story is based. It’s Hallmark so of course there is a twist, followed by a huge sadness, and in the last four minutes he proclaims his love to her and all ends well.

The part that intrigued me was where he took her to NYC. The basis of his critique of her work was that her characters were not quite rounded enough; there was no sense of place or who they actually were inside. Her descriptions of the city and of the characters were less than developed. The point was that she needed to experience NYC and actually see the sights, smell the smells, and so on. I believe this is true and it made me think of my own writing. How we should write what we know. If we, as writers don’t know a subject or an area we have to be descriptive enough to not let that show. One of his lines from the movie is that as a writer, really, all you are is an observer of life, of every detail.

I like that. It makes me think of myself, and of course it will, since this is my blog, my writing, my words, thoughts and feelings. I observe people always. I don’t watch for a fashion or judgement sense, but I do catch things people wear, how they stand, facial expressions, body language, and so on. I do observe a room, and not always for the plain or simple of it; I observe it for a feeling, a mood, or an atmosphere. Light is big to me, either natural in the woods and how trees can dapple in the sunshine, or sometimes I am intrigued by the shadows on the wall as the sun slants through a window blind at a certain angle. Light evokes a mood, almost pensive, waiting for something. A ceiling fan might evoke a certain sentiment of calm as it quietly spins overhead, sometimes silent, sometimes with a rhythmic, barely perceptible tick, tick, tick. That is how it is when I am in nature. I love to walk in the woods, sit by the seashore, sit on a rock, to watch a waterfall tumble down. I love to watch the sun as it sparkles in the waves, for patterns it might create; I watch waves roll in and out, crash, or just jingle like small bells through rocks as it often does in the Gulf of Mexico. The boom, crash of waves meeting rocks on the Pacific coast, or in the northeast in Maine. I love to watch snow fall reflected in street lamps through a darkened village. The diamond dust that sparkles on snow or waves, reflections of light that seem to come from the stars themselves.

I agree, these kind of details make the stories that capture me, so it is truly something to remember as I try to advance into more of a writing force. I am fairly descriptive, and I can be very wordy, but I think it takes more than that. The character in the story asked the woman to close her eyes and describe what she smelled. She said NYC smelled different than she’d imagined. She, of course, had heard of roasted chestnuts being sold on the street, but it was more than that. She said she could smell the rich, meaty, warm chestnut aroma, but more, she could smell a woman’s expensive perfume lingering in the air. She could catch the scent that the sidewalk vents push up from underground, near the subway entrances – I forget what she said, but if I were to imagine it, it would be an almost electrical smell, faintly of exhaust from car motors, slightly stale, the cooler night air pressing down trying to wash away the city scents. It is all about description.

The room I am in right now. I can hear the faint click of the air conditioner as it just switched off. The ceiling fan over my head presses cool air toward me, it’s blades stirring the air and brushing across my hands and wrists on the keyboard, causing a strand of stray hair near my face to dance a ticklish little distraction which my hand keeps reaching to tuck away behind my left ear. Outside I can hear faint, far-off traffic sounds from the interstate a mile away. They are so ingrained in my psyche I barely can hear them and have to listen hard with eyes closed. Closer, crickets sing in the trees and shrubs, their continual whir rising and falling sometimes, then fading away for a few moments. The light in here is dim; the natural light filtering in through, reflecting off the white painted walls. Sunlight enters the surrounding windows, and it is subdued, yet reflective enough to let me know it still shines through the white layer of clouds, building toward thunderstorms later today. The temporary paper shade in the window of this room is permanently drawn until I finish having the window blinds replaced with wooden slats, but it offers a golden glow casting shadows from the panes of the window frames. From the next room, the refrigerator hums its steady hum to itself as it keeps the food inside at a continual cool, refreshing temperature. It is hot outside and heavy with humidity; the air has weight, and although the moss I can see from here in the trees behind the house sways slightly, there is little breeze to stir or cool the air. The house smells familiar to me. It is a combination of the coffee smell lingering in the air from this morning’s pot, from the slight leftover smell of the stick of incense I burned last night. The quiet in here almost has a faint scent as well. The quiet calm scent of the essential oils I use liberally; lemongrass, lavender, cedar wood today. There is the nearly fecund scent of the air sliding in from the slightly ajar sliding glass door to the porch; it is heavy, wet, filled with humidity. It is not bad right now, but the promise of rain fills the air.

It takes some work, and it takes a lot of observation of all the senses. It took a long time and a lot of editing to write that description of my here and now. I am up to the challenge however. I am glad for that movie last night, and for that reminder to be aware; that writers really do have to be voyeurs in order to catch the finest, most important, nearly trivial detail in order to set mood or tone. Every day there is something new to learn or to remember. The gift of our senses is such a treasure; I am glad for the reminder to not take mine for granted.

Staying Zen-minded even through car troubles

The past 24 hours have been a little test to my peace-seeking mind. Minor car troubles; a new battery needed. Except it was not that simple; it could have been done yesterday by the willing, helpful souls at O’Reilly auto parts. Except it seems my car has a battery that should only be changed by professionals. Um. Ok. So. This morning I called around, seeking professionals. And the price was essentially the same; between $180 and $200. Now, let’s be clear. I drive a Chevy. It is 3 ½ years old, far, far from top of the line. Even the service writer was surprised a battery change had to be done professionally. But, so it goes. Because it is part of the warranty I pay for, I used Chevy Roadside assistance to come jump the battery, because, of course, the car would not start. And I waited. A long time. Close to an hour past the projected time, which was an hour after the time I called – and if that is not clear enough, it was a two hour wait. I did not get impatient, I did not get frustrated; I was proud. Even when the service person who came to jump the car (after calling first, 30 minutes after the time he should have been here; just to be sure I still needed it?) told me that the battery was not quite dead and it should have started the car just fine. I did not get impatient, but; Ok. Good. You are professional; I am not. I apologize the car did not start. He jumped the battery, it started and he went on his way, and I went on mine. There was a bit of a wait in the waiting room at the Chevy place, and it quickly filled after I got there – with children. I love children. I do. But I am on vacation, and right now children are not on my radar for patience. Still. I was calm. Mommy yelling at her little girl who was continually screaming for candy across the room (that machine doesn't work, I don't have a quarter; it's broken...at no point was the word NO ever uttered from mom) - yes, I was Zen. I waited, trying to read my book. Eventually it was done, and the Chevy people really were nice; the cashier was lovely and kind (I did, however, have to wait to pay, becauser the grandma of the little screaming girl - she was exchanging a dollar to provide candy for the little girl who was all excited now that she was getting her way). I paid my $207.50 and went on my way. As I pulled out of the dealership, the gas light came on (which I knew; I was just afraid to stop yesterday as originally planned). All was fine. I was expecting that. The gas station was full, but I calmly waited my turn, filled up, and all went well. Twenty hours after it was determined that I needed a new battery, I had one, professionally installed. I came home, made myself lunch and have been reading. A few minutes ago I went into my newly created meditation corner, lit a candle, lit some sage and some incense, and I had a lovely quiet, restorative meditation and wiped out the vestiges of what could have been negativity from me. I definitely see the humor in all of the experience, and I see that it was nice to have kept calm and to have done what needed to be done. At the beginning of the summer, when I was fresh from school I am not quite so sure I would have remained so calm.

In May, on the very last day of school for the students, I attended a Spiritual/Breath Work Retreat. It was wonderfully restorative. Three nights spent with like-minded individuals; it was such a good way to begin the summer. I set my intention before I left to shed myself of the negativity that had surrounded me during the school year. I am an empath, a trait which has become clearer, and more prominent over the years. I absorb the good and the bad moods of those around me. Absorbing good intentions and happiness is not necessarily a bad thing, but absorbing negativity can become a heavy burden to carry around. I’ve recently been looking into classes that will help me shed that, and even deflect it so I can avoid the weight I was carrying earlier this summer. I don’t want to avoid being sympathetic or empathetic all together. I think that many people need empathy – not so much sympathy; but still some is good – and sometimes being kind comes with that extra side effect of providing a listening ear or a welcoming environment. I love knowing that I can provide warmth and comfort when others need it. The children in my school often have such sad little lives, and they don’t know how to deal with life in any way but angry or emotional. I like knowing that my co-workers like coming into my library and are comfortable shedding a layer of their own angst. I just need to know how to deflect it and not carry it all inside of me. This path I am on is showing me that there are others who can help me with that, by giving me tools to protect my own heart from being dragged down in the process.

For now, I sit, peacefully, in my quiet house. I am listening to a New Age Pandora station playing a song called Healing Earth. There is a cup of jasmine tea at my side, and a comfortable chair awaits me. I am about halfway through tomorrow night’s book group book at the local public library. We are reading “The Hidden Life of Trees: What They Feel, How They Communicate―Discoveries from a Secret World” by Peter Wohlleben. Kind of a timely, interesting read. I was able to remain calm in the face of a not-normal day, and I am grateful for this with all my heart.

Each Moment is a New Year

I love the turn of the New Year when it rolls around. All those shiny, brand new, unblemished days full of opportunity waiting for me. As time passes I am less and less into the celebration of New Year’s Eve. When I was married, my husband and I were the couple who proclaimed New Year’s Eve to be for amateurs; a phrase I know we nicked off someone else we thought too-cool-for-school. We preferred to stay home and have a quiet time at home, watching the ball drop on television and having our own celebration. It worked for us. The year before he left, he actually traveled for work on New Year’s Eve; a fact which I later found out was not true. But I was naïve and trusting, and I needed to believe in him; even with that little voice nagging inside my head somewhere down deep. That same year my best friend and all of our friends threw a massive celebration; a “sorry you can’t join us” kind of thing. We had a ball, though. Many members of my family joined us, tons of friends and it was truly fun. It actually started a new tradition for the holiday which we have kept up over the years. Our celebrations now are a little more subdued, but we still hold them; the kids are grown up on their own, many of my family members are no longer with us – and even some friends our own age are gone from this world now. Some years I think, ok, this is the year I just want to ring in the New Year by myself, and somehow I just don’t end up doing it. Because it is my second favorite day of the year (Thanksgiving being my number one; just a day for food, family and thankfulness; how perfect is that?), I want to spend it clear of mind, clear of clutter, and I want to be reflective and consider the whole year stretching out in front of me. So, some years ago I stopped drinking. Not entirely, but I nurse a drink or two and drink water; it’s just what I choose and how I want my fresh new year to begin. I love to wake in the morning, my mind clear, walk out into my kitchen, make coffee, step out on the porch and observe the world waking up; sunshine or clouds, warm or cool (January in Florida; you never quite know what it will be like). I let my mind smile, and the smile spreads to my face and into my heart. It’s symbolic, and I know it’s a little silly, but it makes my soul so very happy. It is actually what makes my heart happy waking in my own house on the weekends, too – that special routine, followed by some journaling or even time spent with a book, or lost in contemplative thought about my wishes for the new year (new day, new week, new month). Food for my soul.

It’s not January; it is July, but I was thinking of the reverence of a new day, a new week, a new moment, and how special they are. We can, in any moment of time, change our thoughts and the path we are walking on. Even in the midst of a tirade or an angry moment, in the midst of passion or one volatile mood followed by another. We can blink and change our minds and our entire lives. That just fills me with wonder. It is the symbolism of the fresh New Year; the ability to begin a new life right at our own fingertips at any given moment. I admit, I am still a work in progress with this type of thinking. I get frustrated, angry, quiet, irritated with the best of people. I catch myself sometimes, or sometimes someone will call me on it. Sometimes it is hard to give up self-righteous anger or suffering; we don’t want to feel better, really, we just want to wallow or stew in our own juices. But it makes the worst kind of stew, holding on to that negative feeling. It is so much better to give in and realize that the world has not stopped turning, and that we can begin our life new again at any moment. When I realize I am holding on to whatever the negative moment might be, I force myself to take a deep breath, down deep as far as I can go, and to roll it up, into the back of my heart and out of my body through my throat. I breathe deeply many times until the mood shifts and I can be logical and start fresh again. It’s how I choose to live.

That first year my husband was gone it occurred to me to sit alone and to wallow in loneliness. My friends did not allow that to happen, and I am ever grateful to them. That is the year; from the negativity of knowing deep in my heart and soul that my husband was not there for a very wrong reason; that is the year that I chose to begin to look for the rainbow and live through the rain. When he left later in the year – it was on another holiday that I found out he had left me. I lost myself that night I found out; it is gone from my mind, and that is probably okay. The next day, sitting on the couch in the house we built together I knew I had a choice. It was a conscious thought. You can choose to sit on this couch and cry. Or, you can get up and start moving. You can start looking for the next moment, for the new start. It was not easy, and I backslid a lot; for a very long time. But I found my new year, moment by hard won moment, and now I look for them every opportunity I get. I lived through that, and I continue to look for the beauty in each and every moment I can. I am grateful to God and my angels for giving me the knowledge to be appreciative for the smallest of moments.

Metaphysical Journey

July 14, 2018

Today I was encouraged to begin a new blog. Why not blog about my metaphysical journey? Who better to tell my own story along the path of self-discovery. So – what to call it. That is a decision to make. Here are my first thoughts on the subject:

All of us have a story to tell. Sometimes we think the lives of others are filled more with joy or sorrow; sadness, laughter - prosperity, poverty. Essentially, all of us start out the same way. What is it that makes the difference in our lives? Some would say it was the conditions in which an individual was conceived, how a person was raised.  Maybe their parents were alcoholics, ignored them, abused them, shamed them, showered them with loving kindness, wealth; every little need being met, or every basic need ignored. Personally I think it is probably a little of all of that, but I also believe it is our own consciousness, our own awareness, our ability to strive, survive, flourish, thrive or even to fail. Children from wealth fail; children from poverty succeed. Children from abuse can overcome it, and children who were never abused may become abusers. There is not a pattern or a right way to live a life. It seems to me it is about choices. It could be argued that children have no say in being born; some would believe that yes, we do - that is something we chose in a previous life on a previous plane. I am not sure how I feel about that, except that I do comprehend the concept, and I am certainly not about to argue such a topic. Many people believe it is all random, others believe it is God's will, some even say it is all preordained; predestined. Regardless of the truth of any of that, if we can read this and we find ourselves full of wonder, then we are here in this world, on our planet and we are living and breathing. That is really what counts. I personally cannot control what happened to me in a previous life, in the womb, in childhood, and I certainly cannot change anything from my past. My only choice right now is to consider what the future will bring, and what I can do about it in the very next breath.

I've been on a path of self-discovery. I can imagine that I have been on this path since the day I was conceived and born; since I learned to talk, walk, read; since I learned how to make choices, since I became and adult and walked this direction. I firmly believe that each step I took along the way has led me to my here and my now. It would be safe to say, too, that this goes back in my ancestral line as far as it can go. That each breath my ancestors took, each birth, each death, each tear shed or laugh laughed - all that led me to my here and now. It gives me a little pause to consider that this portion of my bloodline stops here with me, but that is also one of the hardships I have had to overcome and learned to endure. God, the Universe, Spirit; Goddess - whatever we label our Divine Maker; he or she had some ultimate purpose in making that choice for me; that of no children to come after me; my life ends when I do, and all who came before me end with me. It's affected my life, regardless. I have been walking this path all of my life, but I have been aware of it more so over the last few years. I can pinpoint a time and a place where my spirit started wondering and questioning, but ultimately each moment has led me to here and now.

My journey into the metaphysical world is my own. My thoughts are my own, my decisions all are as well. I have decided that I'd like to share my thoughts and feelings and my path of discovery starting with today. From time to time I will refer back to events that led me to here, but mostly I want to begin with being in the Now. Quite some time ago I began reading self-help books. I wanted to get to know myself better, to understand my life and to really steer myself in a direction of better awareness and comprehension. It was the time before I began working at Barnes & Noble in the late 1990s. While my husband traveled for work, I would often take some of my free time and settle into one of those old squishy chairs BN provided and I would skim books for hours. One day, on a whim, I thought, you know, I am in here so much, I should apply for a job. I did that very night, went for an interview the next day and was hired on the spot. It was a good interview, and the next part of my life began. Working at Barnes & Noble opened up my eyes to the realm of so many things; self-help ayurvedic medicine, metaphysics, quantum physics, re-incarnation – I was even blessed to be part of the Harry Potter and Twilight craze; how much fun being part of it all. I was like a sponge, and all of it interested me. As years went by my life changed drastically; the sadness of divorce, loss of my mother-in-law, my own mother(s), friends, family members. There was much happiness, too, and I continued my journey forward into the world, trying to know myself better, to learn more in order to understand just a small portion of the world around me. One of the first lessons I learned was about living in the now; living in this moment. It took me some time to figure out what that meant, and it took even more time to realize that I was actually pretty good at it. Living in the now, to me, means living here, now; in this breath. Realizing that regretting the past, regretting things done or not done, roads not traveled or traveled too long; none of that really matters. We can waste precious moments; days, months, years even, worrying about things that cannot be undone or unsaid. When we are in this moment, this very now; that is where the value of life lies. We can enjoy the breath of air that passes over our face, the sunshine on our shoulders, the crash of waves on the beach, the feel of grass or sand under our feet.  We can choose to compare it to previous days or moments, or continually remember another time or place when we were with another, smelling a different smell, feeling a different feeling. Memory is good; it helps us to learn valuable lessons, it helps us to know things we would like to be different too. But I believe we can get lost in those memories and before we know it, precious time has passed and what we could be enjoying; this present moment - it has all shifted. The only true time we can be happy is in this moment right here and right now. It is not possible to restore happiness to yesterday, and it cannot be predicted an hour from now. Live in the now. It matters for happiness. Memories are wonderful, but we cannot make new ones if we are not fully aware in the moment we are currently living in. It is a tough concept to explain, but it's a valuable lesson to learn.

Permission Slip

I’ve come to the conclusion that my shifting moods are because of the lack of structure in my life right now. Being on vacation and traveling are good; routines are not so important when you are visiting new places, seeing new sights, and experiencing new things. The newness of it all alleviates any sort of sameness, and the playing field is all level. But being home with a few weeks off is different. The routine of going to bed and rising the same time is not so important, and the days stretch out unplanned, yet so full of promise. I find though, that I think I need a bit more structure, so maybe I should work on that for the final few weeks of this vacation. I feel like I flounder. There is so much I want to do; be creative, read, write, clean some, and I dabble in all of it, but without a real goal. It leaves me with that off kilter sensation, and that is almost uncomfortable. But really - why do I need to make a routine for myself? Shouldn't I just be happy and at ease while home with no major plans or tasks to accomplish? Isn't that the point of vacation? To get away from the routines and order. To enjoy the non-structured days? I am so hard on myself; truly sometimes my own worst enemy!

I made salve this morning, read email, read a few emails for work. I slept poorly last night and felt groggy this morning; another reason why the routine of a stable bed time is important. I watched music videos until very late. I remember before cable, before Internet, before all those distractions. On nights I was unable to sleep I would “surf” with a transistor radio. I would search for a song I wanted to hear, play it and surf on to the next one. Eventually I would fall asleep, but far into the night.

That is what the music videos did last night. I was exhausted but could not sleep. In college, those quiet late nights were when I wrote a lot of poetry. There is something about being awake in the middle of the night. The night is like a blanket; the dark a quiet comfort. Peace, dim, cooler. There is a sense of aloneness, and yet it is a temporary feeling, too. But it ignites my powers of imagination, and it also ignites the power of my romantic mind. I don’t mean love/romance, but my romantic, poetic soul. Last night videos made me feel that feeling. Artists singing their souls out to poetic songs. Music, for me, is a lot about lyrics; I love the poetry of them; the feeling they invoke. That someone felt that way; felt strongly enough to write it down, to sing it. It is soul stirring. Today, however, I am paying the price for the late night, and my lack of routine. I do not want to fritter away my time off. I want to make use of it. I look around my house and there is so much I want to do – nothing pressing or necessary today, yet so much I want to take care of. New blinds here in my library. A meditation corner in my bedroom. Dusting, vacuuming, cleaning. Reading. All the books that surround me; some are read, some are waiting. My crafts, my painting. I want to DO and create.
I think I also want to consider the possibilities of where my career will go next. I made some decisions as I traveled, and I have not forgotten them. Decisions about leaving Florida, at least temporarily. Decisions about where this degree can take me, my job skills. I have much to offer, and I feel in a way that my skills are not being used to their full advantage in a school setting. I never dreamed of being in education. In fact I always railed against it and said no way; never. Never. Not a word I use anymore – not since Steve left. He will never leave me. I will never be in education. Words do have power to come back, don’t they? So now is the time to consider those other options, to seek them out, to explore and see just what is available and appealing. What next place do I want to be?

The reason for my unsettled mood the last few days are these things I have on the edges of my mind. Part of living in the now is not worrying about what might happen or how it will all shake out. And yet part of living life is making plans, even if you don’t know the outcome. We have to plan for our futures, and yet we cannot get too wrapped up in those plans, either. We can plan for the future, and we must, in some way, because when we are older we will find ourselves in situations that may be hard; financially, physically, mentally. But if we spend too much time worrying and planning we lose out on the moments we are meant to live in. A slippery slope; a delicate balance; a tightrope to walk.

Here is the truth and what I need to remember. For 10 months of the year I work extremely hard. I have a tough job. It is not easy working in a school, and it is even less easy working in a school that is considered a tough, failing school. There are indescribable moments throughout my day, throughout my school year that would make my friends who work in corporations say “What? Really? Nope. Not me.” It is a hard job with little reward. Financially the pay is pretty low – especially with my degree of education, my age, and so on. So for two months in the summer I can leave that behind, mostly. I can’t and don’t just walk away for 8 weeks; I check email, go in a bit here and there over the summer. It is just the nature of my job and who I am. I am not obligated, or required, and yet a few things need to be done here and there. Fair enough. Basically, though, for two months I am responsibility free. For the first few days I was home, preparing to leave for 5 weeks. I have been home a few days now, preparing for the last few weeks of this time off. Quite honestly, it should be ok to not have a routine, to not have a major project or task pressing me to be done. And it is. It is the lack of routine that is unsettling me however. It is the nature of who I am. Instead of railing against it, worrying about what I SHOULD do, really, all I need to do is do what I want and when I want to do it. The busy time will come soon enough. Writing those words made me feel better. It reminded me, too, of writing myself a permission slip. I cannot remember if it was Liz Gilbert or Brene Brown who encourage readers to write themselves a permission slip for those things we feel we shouldn’t do – being lazy, not being productive; spending money, playing hooky – whatever it might be. So here is my permission slip to myself.

I, Kim Fields, give Kim Fields permission to enjoy the rest of her time off from work this summer. She is free to stay up late or go to bed early. She is free to read into the night, to write poetry, or even just listen to music videos. She has my permission to read, to write, to craft, to paint – or just to sit and exist for any length of time during the day as she chooses during the rest of her summer vacation. I believe it is a moral imperative that Kim Fields accomplishes these tasks all on her own time as she so chooses. She is granted permission to be guilt free in her pursuit of accomplishing her summer vacation. She has earned it.

There. That is done.

Pema Chodron, Walt Whitman

So how is it I have never discovered Pema Chodron? She is my new hero, my new guru. I absolutely love everything about her. I have watched videos, read about her online. I have not purchased any of her books yet, but that is coming. Her voice is calm, soothing, her message is delightful, patient - kind. Here is an interesting thing, however. She reminds me so very much of Joyce, my old boss; the one who belittled me so much and made me question every moment in my life. Ultimately the experience of six years under her rule made me a stronger, more whole, more aware of myself human being. She was the epitome of kindness, and then she could equally be the epitome of sorrow and cruelty. It fascinates me that Pema reminds me so much of her, because I do not sense any of those negative qualities in her, and yet her voice, the accent she puts on certain words; I hear Joyce. I admired Joyce greatly in many ways; her brilliance, her forward way of looking at things. But I was equally terrified of her, too. Pema seems to have the same good qualities and then so much more beyond. Regardless. I am completely enthralled by Pema. I have seen her works as long as I can remember and it is so amazing to me that I have never read or explored her before! It just goes to show that we get what we need when the Universe puts it in our path when we are ready.

Time has passed since I wrote those words this morning. I have been in a struggle this evening, after a calm and sweet afternoon. It is so amazing how things changes, moods shift, time passes. Moment to moment; it is like being on a roller coaster. I have been mulling in my mind this evening about upcoming changes in the school year. I am a bit worried, and yet, really, more; I am borrowing trouble, as my grandmother used to say. Worrying about what might happen is just stealing time from now. Earlier I was so proud and happy to know that I was living in the now; in the moment, and here I am tonight, frittering away time on what-might-happens. How silly. How human, yet how silly and pointless. So what has changed since this morning? Nothing. The air in the house still smells good. I am still home, it is still my home. The fan still turns overhead, the air conditioning unit still cools my house. The cats still keep coming to check on me. I am still me. I am still the exact same person I was this morning, except for some reason I allowed a shadow of doubt to creep into my soul. That just proves, doesn’t it, that we are all just a work in progress. Sometimes we are up, sometimes we are down. I can laugh at myself right now; it is ok, my honor, really, to acknowledge the human side of myself. Worry does not solve a thing, and this I know.

So, my jittering, uncertain soul needed a reminder. One of the things I do to calm my soul is to search poetry books for lines that jump out at me. Often, I now use the Internet to help soothe my mind; lines from books, lines I remember, words of poetry. It doesn’t matter where I find them, really. It is something I have done for as long as I can remember. I think my grandmother did it. I stumbled on her scrap book earlier and there were taped pages from newspapers in it. My mom did it; I remember her collecting Sketches, which used to be printed in the newspaper too. So I come by it honestly, my searching for words. I don’t search for validation, but I do search for words that strike my soul. I was reading through emails earlier and I have saved a bunch of Elephant Journals to read; I thought that would be the perfect mood shifting exercise. It is something I stumbled on earlier this year; a link that led to a link and so on. Elephant Journal is the kind of news I like to read. Spiritual, inspiring, inspiration, Buddhist, sensible, noteworthy, reasonable. Not confrontational, not egomaniacal. Just feel-good news that I can get behind and be interested in. A line intrigued me and I had to search it out. There was a highlighted word “poem” that obviously led to a poem. It was a line from a Walt Whitman poem. It simple said this: Walt Whitman. “This is what you shall do: dismiss whatever insults your own soul”. That intrigued me enough to search for the poem. And here it is: “This is what you shall do; Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.”

I can’t say much more, can I. Life goes on. Moods go on; moods shift, time passes, and the earth continues to rotate around the sun. Dismiss whatever insults your soul. Love everyone, everything. Love yourself. Game changer. Mood changer. Leave silly worries behind; worries you cannot do a thing to change. Accept, or don’t. But don’t waste valuable, precious time with worry.

I always re-read what I write when I feel it is complete for that moment. And I reread todays writing, including this morning’s start of a letter to my friend. It was like a light bulb, the reason for my insecurity this evening, although I did not remember until just now. I was writing of Pema Chodron. I really am enthralled with her. But she also reminds me in the strangest way of my brilliant former headmaster. She could cut me down quicker than anyone I have ever known in my life. My friend used to refer to her as Crayola because you never knew her mood; she shifted like the colors in a crayon box. Brilliant analogy, by the way. It was awful the way I lost my job' painful, hurtful, unnecessary at the time. Yet, believing as I do, it was the best thing to happen; the way it should have been, although hard to fathom at the time. It was four summers ago and I have felt so blessed since to be gifted with a boss who treats me fairly and with kindness. But I found out the other day that I will have a new boss at the start of the school year. I have heard through others that the new person is hard to work for, but they have learned a lot – my description of Joyce. It terrifies me a bit to work for another like her, and I think that angst has been simmering in me. My writing of Pema Chodron and how she reminds me of Joyce today must have struck a chord that echoed inside my head until it took hold. Knowing the source of my discomfort does add to my peace of mind. Searching for words to resonate in my heart and soul, and knowing the source of my discomfort certainly does make my mind rest easier. I am grateful.

Relax, Refresh

I woke early this morning and was getting up to come write, coming to enjoy the morning, but somehow I ended up closing my eyes briefly and falling back to sleep. Somehow when I woke again it was 9:30. Late by my standards. It always makes me feel off kilter to wake later than normal. I feel somehow rushed throughout the remainder of the day – which is interesting, because sleeping late when you have no destination or no agenda for the new day is supposed to be good, to allow you to just drift and do what you want to do when you want. It is supposed to be relaxing. Instead, for me, I feel like I am late, like I have missed out on some vital key to life; that life is rushing past me and I cannot catch up. It is on late sleeping days that I feel like I have missed a bus, missed a chance; missed an opportunity somehow. It is unsettling. The tone of the day ends up being off. I need to work on that right now, set the tone of my day back in sync with the rest of my brain.

I woke to an odd dream, which is often the case when oversleeping. Because my mind immediately jumped into gear – oh my God I’m late – I cannot remember what it was. Again; vaguely unsettling. It seemed so vital at the time, so lucid, so earth-shattering. I wonder what it is that life is trying to give us at those moments. Some clue to what waits for us when we leave this realm? Some glimpse at an alternate reality? It makes me think of the movie Contact – the book written by Carl Sagan. We are allowed just a glimpse of what is out there only brief moments in time before the door is shut again because we are not ready for that knowledge.

So I am a bit off right now, not quite awake, yet fully so. I feel almost impatient, and yet there is nothing pressing I needed or wanted to do today; the beauty of being home after a trip, still on vacation. I have no pressing home chores to do – no yard to mow, no heavy cleaning to be done, just one small load of laundry. I don’t need groceries or to go buy more “things”. I have a vague sense of wanting to be creative today, however, so I need to nourish those thoughts. I want to paint. I want to create. I want to make something lovely today, so this writing is helping me pinpoint that. I collected rocks on my travels – they fascinate me in their colors and textures. I want to create some gem trees to go on these lovely rocks, so I believe that will be in store for me later. I will sort through some photos and get some prints ordered so I can begin painting and just reveling in the beauty of nature and my travels.

I have soft music playing, my hair is in a towel as I wait for Ms. Clairol to do her thing and wash away that gray. I admit – that is a vanity. I am 56 now. I don’t feel old or act old. I am not sure 56 is old these days, although when I was a child I felt my 50 year old grandparents were decrepit. I have earned my life, my days, my years; I have earned the gray hair, as my father always told me when I was younger (he earned it because of me, I think). I have earned the character on my face, the knowledge in my mind. But I am just not ready to have gray hair all the time. It is a reason for vanity, and I guess we all have our standards. It is fine on others, and I admire women who allow the gray to shine; gray hair is so beautiful. I am just not personally ready for it in my life. So my vanity is to color it. 

I felt the need to write early, rather than later today. I needed the catharsis of it, I think, in order to set my mind right after the confusion of waking late and feeling as if time was rushing past me. I had to stop for the moment and appreciate the morning and the chances given to me for the day. Over the last few years I’ve been reading a lot of books on Self-Help, New Age, Buddhism, Mindfulness, Meditation and living a more balance, essential life over all. One of the things I skimmed through last night was from my meditation retreat back in late May. There were so many take-away’s that I continue to live and experience. I learned that the quiet inside of me is actually a beautiful thing. So much chatter and noise fill our world, and when I am able to retreat into the quiet inside myself it is what my soul needs at that moment. I am learning to exercise my right to be inside myself. That healing, for me, is there. I need to remember to stop for a moment and take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the beautiful air around me – the air of home, or nature, or even the car; wherever it is in which I need to be grounded. To relax. To refresh. To release. That which cannot be solved in that moment, or has already been resolved – it all just needs to be released. The only thing important in this right here and now is this moment. I discovered a few years ago that I am actually not bad at living in the here and now. I did not do that when I was married. It was always about what had happened in the past – and not all bad, but good, sweet, fun things. It was very much about the future; would we have children, when would the house be built, would we have enough money to make it through, and so on. It was a huge amount of pressure I was not even aware was building. When I was searching for myself after my marriage ended I kept coming across the phrase living in the now and I was unsure what it meant or how to do it, and yet somehow, I found myself one day saying to someone, but why does it matter where you went – what you did, what it looked like then. What matters is this here; this now. This is what it looks like today in this moment. We have to just relish it and live it an appreciate it. It occurred to me at that very moment that I had succeeded in that goal and I was not even aware I had. I work at it still, at keeping myself grounded, at keeping others in the moment with me. It is not easy, but those moments during the day that I can say and see; this is it right now. This is the moment to live in. Those are the sweet, wonderful moments of living my dream and a goal I set for myself many years ago; to live now in this moment. To breathe in, to be aware of that breath, of all my senses alive at once, and to exhale the moment before; to leave that behind me.

I saw Michael Singer speak at the retreat I went to back in May. He spoke at a temple he built on land owned by him and his community. One of the things he spoke of has stayed on my mind. He said that everything that happens to us happens inside our own minds. The things that affect us are the things we allow ourselves to think or to feel; to experience. This is such a uniquely easy, yet difficult concept. We think but it’s hot outside; I had no control over that – I am hot. We think, it is raining outside; I am wet. But it is our thoughts telling us we are hot or we are wet. That a person made us feel something or think something. We ourselves control our own thoughts, and in that sense, we control our environments. Everything that happens to us day in and day out happens inside our own heads. I’ve read a lot about the energy that we are made up of; the molecules, the atoms, and so on. When we touch something and we think we can feel its surface; bumpy, rough, cool, hard – whatever it might be. That is really the energy in our body creating those sensations for us; the atoms and molecules that make up our bodies react to the energy of that which we believe we touch. That is so hard to grasp, and I am not successful at it all the time, but I understand and appreciate it, too, especially when it becomes clear in my mind. The keys I am touching as I type; the cat stretched out snuggled on my arm as I sit here; the chair under my bottom. The energy of those items dance and vibrate and the energy that makes up my body dances and vibrates and it creates a sense of touch. Below the cellular level we really never touch; we are just energy meeting energy. It is amazing and incredible and beautiful all at once. To be aware of my own senses; to live in the now, in the moment. That is true mindfulness and true appreciation for the beauty and wonder that make up our lives. It lasts momentarily for me, and then the thought or feeling or emotion escapes me and I am back to my perception of reality once again.

My mood shifted, definitely, from the earlier mood I was in. I’ve written on and off throughout the day, and I changed my slight irritation and discomfort into a day full of moments of value. I am so grateful for the chance to be reflective, to have the time and inclination to do so. I am so grateful for this vacation so that I can continue on this path I am on; writing, thinking, reflecting, creating – just being me for the next few weeks. Relax. Refresh.

Being Myself

I loved being on vacation; even though, technically I still am for several more weeks. I mean, it was wonderful being on vacation away from home, away from comfort and routine. I had some challenges, and maybe one day soon I will write about them. I have thought deeply about them, and thought deeply about myself, my life and how I am living it. I've given much thought to where I want to be, to go, what to do next which goal to work for. I know change is in the air. It is inevitable for me, and I recognize that. For now, though, what I have is right here, right now. I am back in the comfort of my own house after five weeks gone. It was five weeks of travel, of reflection, of thinking, experiencing. I wrote some. I put my 750 words on hold a few days, which upheld my streak - 125 days? It seems as if it should be longer because so much has happened since I began this practice back in early March. I am proud of the habit I have created, even if I was not able to get online each day; the logistics of travel, of the Internet, and so on. But I wrote, at least a little, each and every day. Writing is a saving grace for me and always has been. Over the past few years I had neglected my practice and needed encouragement to begin again. Writing has helped me get to now, to my vacation, to keeping up my habits. I feel refreshed, relaxed, deeply in tune with myself and with my life. I wanted balance, and I believe that I have achieved some. I didn't -don't- want to be all work or all leisure; to much of one thing is never good. Work is important; it helps me to live in the manner which I live, but too much of it makes one wonder why; what is it for? Why do I work to keep this house, this life, when there is no time to enjoy it? I would find myself on weekends or time off just sort of stuck with what to do with free time; what I want to do next, and then end up doing none of it; sort of frittering away that precious free time. Vacation changes that. It sort of levels the playing field a little. As I get back into my daily life, start work in a few weeks I know my idea of balance will change, and I am at peace with that. That is how we grow and learn, I believe. I think I had fallen into the trap of thinking I was not living my life, not really considering that I was. That the challenges we face in life are the very things that help up grow and learn. It just took time, a new perspective, a little reflection for me to realize that.

This morning I woke happy. Indescribably so, really. Just happy, happy to be here, to be in the now, to be just in my moments. I woke early. Over vacation I had fallen a little into the habit of sleeping later than I normally do. Waking each day in a hotel room, knowing my travel companion would sleep until the last possible moment made me a bit lazy about my own habits. I would rise - always still early, just not as early as today. I would shower, I would read, I would write if I was able. The Internet was so difficult for the most part, so sometimes I just wrote in my journal. I would make coffee (I indulged in a little $10 travel pot so I could have the joy of that with me). I enjoyed the silence, but I hated being in the dark lighting of a shaded motel room. Some rooms had a place where I could sit outside and enjoy the mornings, but many did not; I took advantage when I could. I would rather begin my day with real sunshine, and happy, positive thoughts.

Each day is such a beautiful treasure. It does not matter to me whether the sun actually shines, or if it is cloudy, hazy, or foggy. I open up the windows of the room I am in. I open up the windows of my heart and I allow that sunshine to shine in. I allow each day to be a gift, a treasure, a joy. I allow myself to see the beauty of the rain - it nourishes the ground, nature, the world. Some consider rainy days dreary, yes, but rainy days also create this beautiful backdrop to my vision. They blur the edges of the day so that what I see is so beautiful and wondrous, and I cannot help but smile. I love the fog as it rolls in - it is difficult to see far horizons, yet the quiet peace of a world shrouded with fog is somehow so exhilarating, and I know it is temporary. There is so much beauty to be seen in every day, in every moment. There are rainbows in rain, moss grows when light is dim and rain settles in; flowers bloom, dragonflies dance. It is all so incredible and each little thing has its place in each moment. Tiny seedling trees try to grown on the moss that grows on the trees that fell before the seeds. Everything in nature works together and tries to help each other in the quest for life; everything old nourishes something new. This is the world I live in, the world I love and cherish being a part of.

My mind is not blind to the sadness in the world. It is not shaded from the bad things, from the state our country is in. It is not blinded to the hatred that seems to be growing stronger. I am not oblivious to the terrible troubles we face as Americans, that I face on my job, that children are failing to thrive in our American schools. I know there is poverty, and people are starving, living homeless in the streets. The other day my heart nearly broke for a young man who was covered with a dirty canvas, too thin, dirty legs sticking out of too large shorts, sneakers on un-socked feet. He was asleep behind a 7-11. At first I thought, oh my God - he is dead, lying there alone, no one seeing him, no one caring, his mother not knowing where he was. And then he moved, after I watched him for a few moments. He rolled over, and my thoughts of calling 911, or even the police vanished. It was not without compassion I made that choice. It was giving him the time to sleep - he obviously needed it, whether it was because it was a quiet, out-of-the way place, because he was sleeping off a substance issue, or maybe he had just been walking all day and needed sleep. It was not my place to interfere. Maybe he needed help; I do not know. I knew if I called the police his life would begin a new shade of difficulty, and that was not my choice to make for him - he was his own person, and it was not for me to say what his next move should be. I am not oblivious to pain and suffering, to the plight of drug or drink addicted souls. I think that in our quest to do the right thing all the time, we often do what we think is best for someone, when really, our job is to do what is right for us. We cannot project our morality, our sense of duty or right or wrong on others. We interfere when we should not, and we turn blind eyes when maybe we shouldn't either. It was not my call or my place to help the young man I saw the other day. If he had come and asked me for money, food - assistance, then yes. It is my right or privilege to say yes or no. But it was not my place to interfere with his space, his time at that moment. He was a person on his own, where he was on his own accord or volition. He was hurting no one, he was off in a quiet place, and he was doing what his body needed doing. I will send prayers and angel wishes his way, and wish him Godspeed on his journey, wherever that may be.

So, no. I am not oblivious to the state of the world. But there is so little I can personally do. I can live life the best way I can for myself. I can live making a small difference in the lives of others; I can offer smiles, sunshine, a warm hug. I am not one to march for a cause, or to fight a battle. Anger and vitriol is not part of who I am, or who I choose to be. CR says that its good that people are angry and fighting and protesting. Maybe that will make a difference. You know. Maybe it will. I personally feel that maybe too many people are interfering in the lives and rights of others. In their quest to "do something", to make a difference, to change the world they try to make choices for others; to force upon someone what they should or should not do. CR himself does nothing but protest in anger - but only to himself or to me. No where or to no one that can really make a difference. Being angry can be put to good use, but being angry and continually complaining does no one any good, especially yourself.

Right now, my fight is my own. I am choosing to be who I am the best way I can be. It's my own personal goal right now. Maybe that quiet, peaceful Me can make a difference to someone else, and that will make a difference to someone else, and so on. Maybe paying it forward is what I am meant to do right now. It is what I feel compelled to do. I have to live my life in my own way, making my own decisions about where to go and what to do. My number one goal is to become a little bit more of Me - myself, making sure I am ok, and I am in charge of no one's life but my own.