more pearls than whine

Move over Flat Stanley

2005-06-05T00:10:00.000-04:00

Maybe macabre conversation, but was definitely humorous, too:

I was feeling overcome with the heat (and it's only June!) and thinking that it could possibly do me in, especially if I tried to push myself in it.

Me: Hey, I think I'd better do my will. I'm going to leave all my junk to you (spouse) and then you'll have to dispose of it. Hahahahaha

Spouse: No! No! Can I refuse it?

Me: Yeah, I think so. In any case, I'm reminding you that I want to be cremated and I don't care what you do with the ashes.

Spouse: I thought you wanted to be put on a plant or something.

Me: I don't really care. Hmmmmmm. Well, you could scatter my ashes all over the world. This way I would get to travel. (That would probably be breaking all kinds of laws ... but, some people say *grin* laws are made to be broken.)

Yeah, you could carry around some of my ashes in your pocket ... kind of like lint ... and casually dribble a bit here and dribble a bit there. Like in Shawshank Redemption when he carried the dirt from the hole he was digging in his cell out to the prison yard and added it ... undetected ... to the dirt already there.

Me: Hmmmmm. I should probably do my traveling in the flesh. It would probably be more fun.

Spouse: I want my ashes thrown out the window of the car on Route 90 in Wyoming ... so no one will be able to find me.

Me: But you'd be in the wind, which means you'd be everywhere. We could wait for a tornado ...

By this time my audience had pretty much lost interest in my excessive flights of fancy and was walking away.

Still, I had to chase him down to tell him about FLAT STANLEY, who also makes me think of the traveling gnome in the commercials. (So my imagination took me one more step. I could also picture some unique container [with my ashes in it] being photographed in exotic settings ... But I didn't share that tidbit.)

I told him that every once in a while grandparents bring a child's hand colored picture of Flat Stanley -- he's about a foot tall ... and flat -- (a lot of children in elementary school seem to be doing this) to the museum ... and photograph him in, on, or near different exhibits. They have so much fun with Flat Stanley, probably more than their grandchildren do, and take him wherever they go some place interesting.

After some thought and a few laughs ... I found it funny ... I decided that I'm going to go to exotic places while I'm alive, thank you very much. I'm making a list.

All the time in the world

2005-06-04T23:05:00.000-04:00

I was thinking about time today. This is the thought ... the "truth" that came to me:

I have relatively little time left in this life ... yet, I have all the time in the world.

Just as I was thinking ... Gee, I'd better do this or that while I can, creating a picture of physical and mental frenzy ... I stopped. I don't want to be so busy-busy that I forget to live. I've been there and done that.

Everyone knows that time is just as much subjective as it is objective. When you're a little kid the summer vacation seems like forever ... as does the school year. As you get older, time speeds up ... subjectively. I've often compared it to rewinding a VHS tape. As it starts to rewind, it takes its time ... whirr whirr whirr... but, the closer to the end, the faster it goes ... buh dh dh dh dh dh dh dh dh dh dh. I can't seem to write the sound of your tongue making buuuuudh-ing sounds on the roof of your mouth just behind your top teeth. Hey, it's how the tape sounds at the end. What can I say! Now I "get" why people leave their holiday decorations up. The holiday is going to come around practically in a minute.

I've used different methods to "slow down" time's passing. A big one is ... not rushing around crazily ... trying to get so many "important" things done. Being present. Being in the moment. Knowing that I have all the time in the world. Not easy to do in our fast-paced society. For me, a big one is reading, especially fiction. When I'm reading fiction, it's a mini vacation ... I'm "there" ... in that time frame and span. So if years pass in the book and I've been reading for an hour, well ... I feel like I'm collapsing time. Being present is excellent, but not always easy to do.

Think about hitting the snooze alarm and going back to sleep, dreaming an epic dream and then the alarm goes off again ... and it's only been four minutes ... objectively. Hmmmmmm.

Time. It's a thought and a paradox.

One person's courage ... to LET HER SPEAK

2005-04-26T20:45:00.000-04:00

While I was walking my dog along the lake road this evening, I was thinking about a brief encounter with a visitor today.

I would have liked to visit with her, ask impertinent questions, find out her "story," because everybody has one. Hers sounded like it would be more unique and interesting than most ... filled with boldness and courage, but I never got the details. Ah ... the missed story.

In any case, the encounter did make me think about courage, itself. I could say, "I wish I had her courage!" Whatever her courage actually was ... I had the sense that perhaps she listened to her inner voice and went wherever it guided her, that she did what was important to her. I'd like to think that was true. To do that would certainly require courage, especially if what you wanted to do was unconventional or difficult for friends and family to grasp.

Then I thought that maybe that it didn't really require "Courage" because it was so natural and not at all difficult to walk her path, because that's the way she was made ... and it wouldn't occur to her to do things any other way. Maybe it only looks courageous to someone else looking in from the outside, who doesn't have the same kind of courage ... who couldn't have possibly done those same things.

People lacking that particular type of courage certainly have courage of their own, in areas they take for granted. They just don't realize it. Because it comes naturally, it doesn't actually take "courage."

Here's a very small example. I will go anywhere by myself. In a car, plane, bus, train ... whatever. I went to Mexico a few years ago by myself (not a tour). I'll go to a movie by myself, or eat out in a restaurant. I discovered that "everybody" doesn't do that ... and in fact, some would be afraid or at least uncomfortable ... and simply not do it. To someone else, I might be brave and courageous. That wouldn't be true. It is just natural for me.

Even when I was a teenager, I would go to movies by myself. It didn't make sense to me to have a "date" just to go to the show if I didn't actually like the person. Other people did it all the time. I guess I never traveled in a pack ... and I certainly wouldn't have had some of the experience that I've had if I hadn't been by myself. Maybe those "others" would just consider me "odd." Entirely possible!

I might do these "social" things with someone else ... but only if that person is good company and can travel in harmony. Otherwise, it just isn't fun. I like my own company (thank goodness!) and am just not a person who is easily bored .... although I might be "boring," even though my daughter says I'm not.

But, I might need courage to stand up for myself, to speak up, to let my voice out. Do I even know what my inner voice says? Have I muffled it somehow? Do I have the courage to LET HER SPEAK?

Talk about stream of consciousness here! Wow! I had a spiritual dream long ago ... maybe 25 years ... that is still vivid. It was a bright, you-are-there type of dream where sound was coming out of my pores in 360 degree angles ... and I heard exactly that ... LET HER SPEAK! Amazing! I will have to ponder that.

I guess finding courage ... or inner strength ... requires stretching the self and discovering it within. It appears that I will need to listen.

Allergies?

2005-04-18T21:23:00.000-04:00

How is it that I suddenly develop an allergy to what is in the air? Or did I always have it, but now it is more pronounced?

I woke up this morning and sneezed three times before I even got out of bed ... the kind of sneezes that tease you until they crest and then roll over you ... completely satifsying sneezes. That was kind of fun.

But, It wasn't an isolated moment. Everything escalated and the rest of the day went downhill from there ... it involved an entire box of tissues, more sneezes, instantly refilled sinuses, and a drippy nose. I can't even breathe through my nose right now. It makes me feel as though I'm sick, which I'm not. It's just totally unpretty.

So what ... so I had an allergic day. I could wake up tomorrow just fine.

Allergic? Hah! What if I refuse to be allergic?

Definitely a Pearl

2005-04-09T21:02:00.000-04:00

There's nothing wrong with me, there's nothing wrong with me, there's nothing wrong with me!

I've been chanting this to myself all day and I feel great. Maybe it's just the day, maybe it's a shift in consciousness.

In clearing out Stuff (Decluttering Project Blog), I came upon a book called There's Nothing Wrong With You. Wow. What a concept.

Actually the cover has more on it. It says

Regardless of what you've been told There's Nothing Wrong With You Revised Edition ... Going Beyond Self-Hate ... A compassionate process for learning to accept yourself exactly as you are, by Cheryl Huber, who is "a student and teacher of zen for over 30 years." On the back cover ... "We will attempt to explain that you have been unable to fix yourself because there is nothing wrong with you, but there is quite a lot 'wrong' with what you have been taught to believe about yourself and about life."

It really is quite extraordinary.

And, that trying to FIX yourself perpetuates the myth that there is something that needs fixing.

Whatta concept!

There's nothing wrong with me.

The idea is ... once you embrace yourself as you are, then all those things you've been trying to fix fall away by themselves because they don't need to be there to help perpetuate the myth that there's something wrong. Does that make sense?

Pretty convoluted.

I like it.

Panic! No Internet Access for a Day!

2005-04-04T17:35:00.000-04:00

Whew. I'm back! I couldn't connect yesterday and naturally figured my computer was at fault. It has been acting up lately and needs a serious scrubbing. If I knew how to scrub it, I would!

I remembered to call my provider before I left work today. It turns out a bridge went out due to flooding and took essential cable with it ... 50 miles away.

But just in case I can't get online at home ...

What do I do if my computer fails me? Because I like to have what if alternatives ... and because I'm still not 100% sure I'll be able to get online at home, I stopped at the public library to get online for an hour ... just in case. I've had my fix and also took care of some essential transactions.

How addicted am I? I'm so addicted that ...

Well, if all else fails, I can go to the public library!

Could I be with my thoughts for a week?

2005-03-30T09:00:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking about this ... All kinds of creative ideas pop into my head while I'm walking my dog. I'm not reading a book ... or listening to one. I'm not watching TV or a movie. I am not listening to anyone else talking about anything.

I'm just with my thoughts ... in the day ... outside in the world ... in the moment. I'm not filling my head with other people's ideas.

I was wondering ... could I give up my books, my computer, my TV, for a week ... without being in solitary confinement where I had no choice?

That is a very tough question. If I did this, would I really give some serious thought to different things, or would I decide I needed to entertain myself ... Would I invent stories in my head?

I could give up the TV pretty easily, I think. And the hard copies of books ... for a week, sure ... well, maybe. It would be much harder to stop listening to my unabridged audio books ... small panicky feeling. And, the computer, maybe, because it is my outreach right now to the world ... through email and the blogs. The blogs are closer to solitary confinement in that I am with my thoughts ... and my invisible audience.

Gee, if I did this, would I allow myself to write things down, or would I let things swirl around in my head?

I might try this. It bears thinking about. It sounds like an opportunity for the creative juices to flow.

Or, if I gave up these things, I could clean instead. Nah.

I'll have to think about this while I'm walking my dog.

Some early morning thoughts ... How do I appear as Soul?

2005-03-29T22:44:00.000-05:00

I was walking my dog this morning along the lake road ... I seem to get a lot of ideas while walking my dog ... and I got really expansive... or something ... this morning, wondering about what we look like in our true essence ... what we look like as Soul.

So the thoughts that ran through my head were ... What do I look like spiritually? What is my true name? Because I'm in a human body, and have a human mind ... I would probably translate my spiritual appearance in a human way. This way I would also recognize other Souls in the spiritual worlds, wouldn't I? Hmmmm. Since everything is "energy," I imagine that I would automatically translate the essence into the form I attached to it. I have my own unique identity, just as a snowflake does ... which means I'm recognizable as ME. And I would recognize other snowflakes ... umm ... Souls.

I was also thinking ... if I've lived 10,000 lifetimes, how am I recognized by other Souls I knew during those lifetimes? Maybe each soul would translate my essence into an image of who I was in the physical realm when they knew me. It boggles the mind.

But I really think that as we travel in the inner spiritual worlds we project our best possible ... in a spiritual sense ... appearance ... and it resonates to all that we are. In the same way, we had as many different names as we had bodies ... and our true name is the one that resonates to all that we are at our center. Anyway, it sounds good.

We cross paths with Souls we've spent time with before in other lifetimes. Because of karmic ties, I think this accounts for instant affinity with another person ... "I feel like I've known you before... or ... forever" ... and it also accounts for instant dislike that has no apparent reason.

If you're in a family, you can bet that you have karma to work out with them. It is said that we learn the most in times of difficulty and with people who aggravate us the most. I guess I can believe that one! I can also believe that things get carried over from lifetime to lifetime ... and that sometimes it gets worse before it gets better.

I've often felt that I was tying up a lot of little loose ends in this lifetime. But I think there are still some unresolved situations and issues. Sigh.

My human self would like to know my true name. Let me rephrase that. I believe I know my true name on some level, but it is not in my conscious mind ... yet. Is it important? I don't know. It might just be an idea that comes under the category ... interesting tidbit, but don't let it interfere with your fully living right now. That is more important than what was or what might yet be.

What happened to "You're welcome?"

2005-03-26T09:12:00.000-05:00

Someone actually said "You're welcome" the other day when I said "Thank you." I noticed it because it is so rare to hear. And I appreciated hearing it. In the last few years I've noticed a change in social habits.

When did people stop saying "You're welcome" when someone says "Thank you?" The usual response I hear is a very noncommittal ... "uh huh" ... or ... "mmm," as if they can't be bothered, as if a genuine response came with strings ... some horrible consequence. It comes across as if the person who says thank you isn't worth acknowledging. It just seems odd to me.

If "You're welcome" is too formal, then what about ... "de nada." ... "It's my pleasure." ... "I'm glad you like it." or "I'm glad you're pleased." Even "no problem" is better than "uh huh."

How did this change in communication come about? I don't really know. And I don't know when, either. The problem is, when you hear something all the time, you can fall into the same pattern, because it has become customary ... the new "normal."

I just find "uh huh" a little chilly and dehumanizing.

Thanks for sharing, Lindie.

"Uh huh."

Listen to what people actually say when you say "Thank you." And eavesdrop. It should be interesting.

Addicted to books!

2005-03-25T20:26:00.000-05:00

I used to have a lot of books, but now I am inundated ... when did I begin to feel I had to have so many? What makes me think I can read or study all of them in my lifetime! Do I need to have them all? Am I really going to use them? Of course, if I could take them with me ....

I envision a wonderful space filled with books on shelves encircling the room. The shelves hold all the books I want to read and those yet to be written that I would want to read. I think some books are written and read on the "inner worlds" before they make their way here to this plane of existence. In my book room there is a large window overlooking an expansive view. Perhaps a meadow that slopes down to the edge of a lake ... fir trees line the opposite shore and hillside and mountains are in the distance. (This is one of many scenes I might find outside my window.) There is a comfortable chair which is kind of odd, since I'd much rather sit at a table in a relatively straight chair to read. Any way, this particular chair is relatively straight and upholstered, the high-back kind with the wings. I might sit in it and read. But, there is also a highly polished library table with a comfortable straight chair in front of it and a wonderful reading lamp sitting on top of it. The single drawer holds pen and paper. (The computer has its own space.)

Well, that was quite fanciful. But, as much as I love books, I need to lighten my load here and now. I think I'll address this entire issue in my Decluttering Project Blog, which is where this situation belongs.

What if you couldn't see?

2005-03-24T00:11:00.000-05:00

While I was getting my eyes checked today, the technician who ran some of the machines told me about a survey that had been done ... to emphasize how important vision is to many. People were asked which they would prefer: blindness or death. At least 50% said death. Wow. I would have to say I would choose blindness. I wouldn't like not being able to see everything in my world. The visual is very important to me. But if I could hear, I could still have a rich life ... but it would take major adjustment.

I used to play the "What if" game. What if I couldn't see. What if I couldn't hear. What if I couldn't see or hear. What would I do? (The list went on and on.) I can speculate all I want, but I don't think you can KNOW how you would react and how quickly you would "come around" and take steps to work with what is unless you are in such a situation. To say ... Oh, I would do thus and so ... is just too cavalier. There are so many considerations!

Adding Project Blogs ... It's not over until it's over.

2005-03-21T22:52:00.000-05:00

I may have to add two project blogs ... for myself ... to track my progress in a day-to-day way. But, will I use them? I think the vehicle has great possibility. I just might.

How many times have I projected accomplishments by a certain date, outlined my plan of attack, visualized a certain result ... and later found the sheets of paper, still blank and the way-in-the-future goal dates long ago in the past. It's downright disheartening.

During a long ago seminar I remember this call to action: You want to ride a pony but you are afraid (what else but fear stops you in your tracks?). You can think about it, talk about it, read about it, buy the pony, house it, feed it, groom it, saddle it ... but sometimes you just have to get on the pony and ride it ... JUST DO IT! Easier said than done!

My projects aren't magical, but I'm going to make them so ... because I just can't stand it anymore ... I'm filled with self-recriminations ... even self-loathing. This is not healthy and goes against my natural inclination, which is to be joyful.

The bottom line: I'm embarrassed by my appearance (out of shape, way excess weight and middle age), and by my environmental mountain of clutter and congestion ... can't have anyone over because it's just too awful. I can't do anything about the middle age, but I don't have to look like I've given up! It's not over until it's over, so I can do something about these things if I take action.

I did it! I boldly went where I never thought I'd go. I created two project blogs: Decluttering Project (that's what it is) and Shapechanger Project (that's what it is also). Warning: Read at your own risk. It isn't pretty.

Am I the Oldest Blogger?

2005-03-20T10:02:00.000-05:00

No, I am not. Ya gotta love Google! oldest blogger yielded great results, naturally. I may be older but I'm still a baby blogger and feeling my way.

Check out http://jennett.org/ageless/stats. You can focus on your year, your decade, or any aspect, for that matter. Very interesting. Just discovered it last night and have yet to explore it in any depth. Hey, I'm still checking out the sites from the weblog awards. And you can't be out there always checking someone else's blog ... which could go on and on and on ... and forgetting about your own.

But, I had gotten to wondering if there were many "older" bloggers out there. I knew there had to be, but statistically, I wasn't hitting them ... and feeling a bit "dated." I've been exploring blogs through the "who I read" lists and also the blogs of those who make comments. I want to get a feel for what is out there ... blogs are an art form, besides being a great source of entertainment and sometimes enlightenment.

It seems that most bloggers are 20 to 30 something -- the hormone infused years. There are people in that general age group out their producing excellent blogs. There is the famous dooce of course ... doesn't everyone read dooce? She's probably on more "who I read" lists that any other blogger I've found so far. And there is tequila mockingbird ... a blog of note and very satisfying ... worth checking out. I'm still exploring others because I want variety in my reading diet. So, I began to wonder where the others are ... the ones who are checkmarking their things-to-do-before-I-die list ... I was looking for additional scope ... and I found the ageless site I mentioned.

Would these "older bloggers" be different? Now that I've found some, I'll be checking them out. Will they be so much different than their younger counterparts? Somehow I doubt it.

I Love Libraries.

2005-03-14T22:32:00.000-05:00

Libraries have played a significant role in my life (I've used them as a "patron" ... and I've also been employed by public and school libraries at different points in my life).

An early significant library memory is of riding my hand-me-down 26" balloon tire bike, complete with woven basket, to the library during summer vacation. I would fill the basket with fiction and live in one book after the other. They took me to different places where I met interesting people. Did I read to escape? You betcha. Still do. And I would read because I want to find out what happens next. That's a given.

At some points in my life, not being in the world was so important that I would escape into one book, finish it, and start another without every coming up for air. I KNEW I had a problem, but it would run its course. Sometimes I would reading voraciously, at other times just in a trickle (during these periods, I was apt to be involved in the world). My reading habits are more balanced now, so I escape in a less desperate fashion. Picking up a book and reading it for 20 minutes is a mini-vacation. When I listen to books, I'm doing something else at the same time, usually, so I'm still participating in the world.

All that said, I've never been so passionate about Libraries as I am now.

I have four different library cards, three for library systems nearby (I even pay for the privilege of checking books out in one of these systems) and one for NYC (I couldn't resist), even though I'm too far away to check out materials ... but I can go on line, and do research, etc. I visit two or more libraries each week to return and check out materials and I'm online checking their websites frequently.

I usually borrow unabridged audio books, especially those produced by Recorded Books (www.recordedbooks.com). I'm especially fond of their narrators ... they are the best overall. Listening Library (children's) also has very fine narrators. Although I'm always reading books too, I'm totally hooked on listening. I've enjoyed books that I might not have picked up to read. For me, listening makes the "reading" experience even richer.

I began listening to audio books when I had to drive on interstate roads ... that type of driving makes me so sleepy ... my eyes would literally want to slam shut ... I couldn't stand it and would have to leave the interstate and find four lane divided highways or other main roads with more visually interesting scenery. I can tolerate interstates longer when I'm listening to a story. I stop the story only if traffic gets especially challenging or if I'm navigating through a town or city.

Now I listen during a 20-25 minute commute, when I'm out and about doing errands, when I'm cooking, when I'm doing anything mundane that doesn't require my full attention, and of course, when I travel. I wouldn't be listening right now because I would have to restart the tape or disk where I last remembered it. I would just tune it out. I also wouldn't be listening now because I just happen to be on a library computer (another great advantage to using the library).

I just had an hour before going to the movies, something I haven't done lately, and thought I would work on my "I Love Libraries" draft ... this sure is being written in bits and pieces.

Anyway, I do love libraries. You get to borrow materials (books, movies, music, magazines, etc.), do research, use their computers, and take advantage of their online sites; you can sit and read, write, think. They have classes, talks, exhibits, presentations ... all kinds of opportunities ... and they have real people ... librarians ... to help you if you want to ask for it. I've always thought, If you can read, you can learn how to do anything! That might be a little simplistic, but there's a lot of truth to it.

I've bought some audio books, but I discovered that libraries have fantastic selections of unabridged audio books. After I essentially ran through one branch's unabridged audio collection, I explored others. In that way I've come to add different libraries to my circuit. I know that I can get anything available within a system sent to a nearby branch through interlibrary loan ... which I sometimes do, especially if I have a specific title or narrator I'm interested in. But, sometimes I don't know what I want, so browsing is very satisfying and rewarding. You don't always know what you want until you see it.

I'm particularly fond of fiction, in book or audio form. Lately I've been listening to "young adult" stories, which I probably wouldn't have picked up in book form. I've listened to Caroline B. Cooney's "Janie" stories ... The Face on the Milk Carton is the first and you would definitely want to read/listen to them in order. I found one library that has a particularly fine collection of young adult audio books ... by Recorded Books ... and have pretty much exhausted them. I also listen to a wide range of "adult" titles too.

When I'm reading a book, I tend to start racing along and often miss the flavor, the nuance, so for me listening makes the "reading" by audio a very rich experience. I listened to No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency by Alexander McCall Smith, narrated by Lisette Lecat. Wow. She has a soft South African accent, which is very easy to understand. She clears up the mystery of the pronunciation of unfamiliar words and speaks with a rhythm of the language that gives it a certain authenticity. There is such a sense of being in Botswana. She does all the different voices ... and there is no mistaking which character is speaking (this is very typical of Recorded Books narrators).

Yep. Libraries are just about the best deal going ... a true case of getting full value from your tax money, provided you take advantage of the materials and services available.

One odd thing about borrowing versus buying books (I'm in favor of both options): I've found that you're more likely to actually read the book right away when you borrow it. But when you buy the book, it might sit around for weeks, months, even years before you get to it. After all, you can read it anytime. You know the saying, "Your eyes are bigger than your stomach?" It's kind of like that, so you find that you have a ridiculous number of unread books. But of course, if you're cut off from civilization, you'll still have something to read.

Get a life? Well, this is the reading part of it. As for the accumulation of books themselves, that's another story. I love books!

Twelve geese in a row

2005-03-14T00:32:00.000-05:00

When I was walking my dog along the lake road the other day, I saw a group of geese that appeared frozen on the ice ... like statues. It was such a dramatic scene that I stopped to really take it in. They were arrayed more or less in a line, spreading out from the edge of an open water area. When I looked closely, I saw that three were standing and the rest were sitting ... absolutely still. One of the standing geese started walking. Until then it was almost surreal.

Naturally, I didn't have a camera ... it would have been stunning. Then I wondered what message or bit of wisdom I was supposed to get. I counted the geese, studied their positions, soaked in the scene ... but nothing came through. And then I thought perhaps I should accept it as a gift of beauty.

What? I'm just afraid? That's it?

2005-03-08T23:32:00.000-05:00

Warning -- Big Whine ... You can just skip this spewing ... I'm pumping out my own stomach and it's nasty business ... and y'all don't care anyway.

I'm making myself crazy. What perversity of human nature, what character flaw, what lack of discipline, what lack of will ... yada yada yada ... allows me to wallow in a rut ... unable to make some badly needed changes in my behavior and beliefs: I'm behaving badly and I don't believe in myself. Well, it must be true if I think I'm a failure. It must be true if I whine and carry on and don't do anything to get unstuck. It must be true if I can't seem to take the needed action to make desirable changes ... and I think this goes way back.

Why, when I have so many wonderful tools available to make the needed changes, am I still unable to take action? Why?

Things I need to know first: I need to know what it is I want ... and then figure out how to get myself to take that first step and then actually take it.

I've heard that the first step is the hardest and that's no lie. If I can work through this, maybe I'll understand the dynamic ... instead of waiting for a moment where time stops and I'm able to pivot and step out on a new track.

Am I afraid of success? Maybe. Am I just afraid? Maybe I am. " I am Lindie .... and I'm a scaredy cat." Hmmmmm

Maybe I should figure out why I'm stuck. This talking business might help me figure it out. Well, one of my reasons for writing in this blog is its application as a tool for self-healing ... this is the growing myself up part. So I guess it is a jump start for change, because I'm actually working on it, giving it my attention, trying to get my head and heart in alignment ... actually, my whole body, including my inner ones ... my whole self.

When I say this "stuckness" goes way back, here is a little example that was big at the time:

Jump Rope ... Two girls are swinging a rope and I have to jump in. I watch the rope, my head starts to swing in time with the rope, and keeps swinging and swinging and it feels like it will go on forever. Can I jump in? I am afraid. I can't do this. Sometimes I can actually jump in, but more often I can't. It seems like an impossible hurdle, this act of simply jumping into the swinging rope. The message I gave myself in 1957 for not being able to jump into the rope: I was a failure.

I'm gonna try a little stream of consciousness here: If I can't seem to do anything right ... (my perception? ... or feedback from without or lack of it?) then maybe if I don't do anything, I won't do anything wrong. Not likely.

Big mud pie.

So, I've decided that at this time three areas require my taking action ... and that I must decide what I don't want and what I do want in each of them. This should be a good trick. They are self image (I'm not happy with myself on several levels), clutter (understatement), and creative output (it's in stasis). I do believe this blog business is shaking things up ... and that's a good thing.

Maybe if I DO something, I won't beat myself up so badly. Do I feel better now that I've puked this up? As a matter of fact, yes.

I looked up and sucked in my breath ...

2005-03-06T22:20:00.000-05:00

Words fail me ...

A few times in my life I've experienced a sight of such beauty that it has brought me tears. It touches some part of me ... and it's too grand to be expressed ... words could never capture the feeling. And I don't believe a photograph would, either. The quality of the air would be missing, for one. And it's a multi-dimensional experience ... I think it can only be hinted at.

This morning I was walking my dog along the lake road. It was overcast and the sun was trying to burn through the gray. I looked up and sucked in my breath. I was stunned ... overcome by the scene before me. The sun cast a soft path of gold on the textured, frozen lake, much like the moon would do. Snow showed through the bare trees on the bluff on the other side, the houses along the shore looking tiny and somehow perfect. The colors were so soft and subtle ... and rich at the same time. The scene brought me to tears. It was exquisite.

When I lived in Southern California I experienced a significant moment of sheer beauty. I was driving up through Cajon Pass from San Bernadino in early evening and I saw a sunset so unearthly ... heavenly even, that I had to pull off the road. It was all pinks and purples with bits of blue and rays of golden light were streaming down everywhere. I remember hitting the steering wheel and saying, "I die, I die." My heart was bursting with joy in that moment and my eyes were full of tears. It was so beautiful it almost hurt. I wanted to capture it on film, but I Knew it would not have been possible. Instead, I can still see it, but it is the memory of the moment ... and so not quite the same.

I had another awe inspiring moment when I lived in New York City years ago. I was walking along the street one sunny, clear, bright blue sky day and looked up just as a small flock of white birds swooped up together, the sunlight catching them just so. It was an exquisite moment. I tried to write a poem about it (don't know where it is right now) and I only remember the last line ... 'the concrete soft beneath my feet.' I felt lighter than air in that moment.

I believe these rare moments are spiritual gifts.

Raggedy Ann vs Barbie

2005-03-04T22:02:00.000-05:00

Childhood Bits (Tales of an early baby boomer)

Actually, there was never any competition between Raggedy Ann and Barbie for me. Barbie came into popularity in 1960 (I had to look that up) when I was a freshman in high school. (Ancient history) I was already too old for Barbie.

Besides, I had my Raggedy Ann with her happy face and the red heart on her breast and I loved her. I still get a warm fuzzy feeling thinking about Raggedy. (She's missing in action.)

And, my brother had a Raggedy Andy. Some of the best memories of my brother, who was a year and a half younger than I, have to do with playing talking Raggedies.

We'd have wonderfully imaginative Raggedy conversations on summer nights. Since my mother sent us to bed at 7 pm -- it did not matter that it was still light outside, our Raggedies would talk until twilight came (... I can still remember the wonder of really looking at twilight and seeing the bright spots of darkness floating in front of my face. They almost looked like fireflies). This was a nice memory.

So, I never cared a thing about Barbie that I can remember. She wasn't a warm and cuddly doll. I know she is loved and collected, etc., and I'm sure she deserves that, but she's not Raggedy.

When my daughter was growing up (she is 29 now), I never felt compelled to buy her anything Barbie. I just didn't particularly like Barbie (besides -- she and all her paraphernalia added up to a chunk of change at the time -- and still does -- and I was a single mom). I'm sure there are those out there who think I deprived my daughter dreadfully, but she had Grover, Strawberry Shortcake, and Alf. If she had a Barbie or a knockoff, it didn't come from me. (It just dawned on me that Barbie was the precursor of the action figure ... basically a doll that is easy to carry around in your hand! What a concept!)

And, I still love my Raggedy ... wherever she is!

I can still say this nursery rhyme in six seconds

2005-03-03T23:52:00.000-05:00

Family Traditions

We all have nursery rhymes in our families that come to us from previous generations. This one popped into my head the other day and I'm sure that I learned it before I began school. I can still perform it ... whatta talent!

I've seen this one in different variations, but this is how we said it. So, as it sounds and is spoken:

One - ery
Two - ery
Dick - o -ry Dai - ry
Al - a - bo Crack - a - bo
Hen - ry Lay - vee
Dis - come - Dan
and Ma - ry Come Time
Hum - ble - dy Bum - ble - dy
Nine - ty - nine

What does it mean? I have no idea.

Doesn't everyone?

2005-03-02T01:12:00.000-05:00

Weird Things I Think About Sometimes

It is amazing how often I am still surprised by the simplest things. I think I'm open and without expectations -- ya know, live and let live? -- but it turns out that I am just as ego centered as the next person and think that if I like something ... well, doesn't everyone?

When I say the simplest things, the first thing that comes to mind is food.

If someone says, "Eeeuuu ... onions," with the curling lip and the disgusted voice, I'm downright shocked. (Gee, there must be something wrong with a person who doesn't like _____, I think.) It's one thing if certain foods don't agree with your body, but it's quite another if it's simply a matter of actively not liking it. I mean, doesn't everyone like onions, garlic, cheese, salad, lemons, oranges, etc? No, they don't. I know people have preferences and everyone doesn't like the same things I do, but it is still hard to fathom. On some level I think it can't be true. These things taste so good to me! Eeeuuu to chocolate? Imagine that!

Eeeuu to grubs? Well .... Eeeuuu would probably be my first reaction. But I guess I might try one ... if it was toasted (they're supposed to be good that way -- I sometimes watch the National Geographic channel) ... and therefore not wiggling ... and if I was really, really, really hungry.

But, I am absolutely certain that the person who grows up eating grubs ... and considers them a real treat as well as an excellent protein ... would be astonished to find that everyone doesn't eat and like grubs ... I know that person would think, "Doesn't everyone?"

Rabbit!

2005-03-01T00:02:00.000-05:00

Family Traditions:
Ever since I can remember, our family has had a highly competitive tradition on the first day of the month. The first one to say "Rabbit!" wins. There is no prize except the winning itself. It is usually done in great fun.

I've asked how it started. My dad said my mother made it up (she was born in 1921). I didn't really buy this explanation, but reserved judgment. Some years ago I came across a reference in a novel set in England about saying "White Rabbit" on the first of the month as you were sweeping the debris out the front door (if I remembered correctly). It was supposed to get rid of any evil spirits. It's still a curious tradition to me. A couple of years ago I picked up a book on English folklore to see if I could find anything there. This is what I found in Oxford's A Dictionary of English Folklore under rabbits:

"A fairly widespread modern custom among children was first recorded in 1909:
My two daughters are in the habit of saying 'Rabbits!" on the first day of each month. The word must be spoken aloud, and be the first word said in the month. It brings luck for that month. Other children I find use the same formula .... Other versions, common between the wars, use the formulas 'White rabbits!" or 'Rabbits, rabbits, rabbits!', and some add that one must say 'Hares!' or 'Black rabbits!' last thing the previous night."

I think it's origins probably go farther back.

Instead of "rabbiting" someone right after midnight, we usually do it first thing in the morning. In the interests of fair play and a satisfying win, it's nice to see the white's of their eyes. You try to sashay into the room as if you aren't concerned about a thing, quickly look up, and blurt out a resounding

"Rabbit!"

Sometimes you make it first, sometimes you don't, but the closer the win, the more satisfying it is.

I just used my favorite search engine -- Google -- to see what else is out there on "Rabbit!" I used the words -- rabbit first month. Wow. There are a lot of rabbiters out there, and plenty of white rabbiters and bunniers (which doesn't seem "right," but it's someone else's tradition).

My 29 year-old daughter has gotten her 'boyfriend' into rabbiting. Since they are both highly competitive, it's gotten pretty ugly sometimes. They're trying to inject more fun and less fierce. It's that or counseling.

My 13-year-old nephew will call his grandpa from 3 hours away on the morning of the first to "Rabbit!" him. When my dad thinks his granddaughter might be calling, he answers the phone, "Rabbit!" and hopes he doesn't need to explain to a stranger. So I guess we only rabbit once within a household, but we set up new rabbiting partners ... anyone we can get to participate in this bit of fun.

I think I'll post this after midnight so that it's my first word for March. But I'll still wait till morning to get my dad (he's 84). Sometimes he wins ... fair and square.

Dreaming when the moon is full ... and more

2005-02-27T21:20:00.000-05:00

Living in the Moment: I've noticed that when the moon is full or waxing to full I sleep hard and dream epic, if not always sensible, adventures. It's not quite lucid dreaming, because it is a degree less vivid and less "present." If I'm going to oversleep, it will be during full moon nights.

Last night I dreamed I saw my daughter's father, who I haven't seen since 1978. I know he's white haired now, but in my dream he still had dark hair. Although I could feel the hug in the dream, it wasn't truly solid, as a body would be. Different. Why did I dream this? I think it was simply because of the moon.

Weird one: I saw a floor that was being repaired ... a plank floor painted gray which had holes in it, carefully cleaned out and ready for patching. Curiously, the area below the floor looked like it was made of plaster. Why would I dream this? It doesn't seem too important, but I could try all kinds of guesses: Things aren't always what they seem, be careful where you step ... but I don't know that it had any real significance.

I can't sort out the rest of the dreams from last night. I didn't write them down and they got colder as the day wore on.

Stuff: I've noticed that we spend half of our lives acquiring stuff, and the other half trying to get rid of it. Unfortunately, it's not so easy to get rid of it. Stuff is not my friend.

Art: Wonderful quote I found and I don't know where I found it so I can't attribute it to the person who said it, but ...

The value of your art starts and ends with you.

Now all that is needed is to believe it and trust yourself.

I LOVE my Jack Russell

2005-02-27T09:32:00.000-05:00

Living in the Moment: Kizzie
We've had our five-year old Jack Russell for four years now. We inherited her when my daughter moved to Boston. At first we were reluctant caretakers, but it didn't take long before she wrapped everyone around her paws. She's not 100% Jack Russell (the rest terrier), but close. (Her ears usually stay up, which is not typical JR. She has the shorter legs and a smooth coat and brown and black markings. She's smart and loving and totally wonderul. We're all besotted.

I never "got" having a dog as a family member. I used to think they were groveling things ... 'stop begging me ... it's shameful.' I didn't get that it was a simple outpouring of love. I never got it until Kizzie.

Her presence has put more love into our home than I would have thought possible ... a natural therapy dog. Her official name is Kismet (my daughter named her), but we call her Kizzie, Kiz, Kizzie-May, May Girl, Baby Girl, and so on. My husband, who is very practical and not given to flights of fancy, said to me one day as an aside, " Do you know why she's called Kis-May? ... Because she's French." I totally did a double take.

Changing the Past: Gypsy and Andy
Gypsy was a beagle who was kept outside and I never developed a dog-person relationship with her. I was probably 11 when we had her. I cared about her, but from afar. One day she nipped my little sister, who was probably about aggravating her. Well, my mother had her "put to sleep," because she couldn't take a chance on the biting anyone else. I cried and cried. If I went back, knowing what I know, I think would have given the dog a lot more attention and really gotten to know her. I think she was a really nice dog.

Andy was a silver miniature French poodle, my mother's dog. He lived with the family for about 17 years. When he came to live with us, I must have been in my early teens. He used to jump up and jump up and get way too excited to see you ... well, I thought that at the time. I remember walking him on a cold winter night and looking up at the stars, but I don't remember giving him credit for who he was. He was my mother's dog, after all. If I went back knowing what I know, I would have bonded with Andy, given him plenty of love and attention, and appreciated him for who he was. He was a great dog. Very smart and full of love.

Putting my toe in the water

2005-02-26T02:32:00.000-05:00

My First Entry - I doubt that I'll include this much every time!
I only recently discovered this wonderful avenue of expression. Where was I when this was happening? Everything is timing, right? I guess I wouldn't have been ready before now.

Anyway, I have some different ideas I want to explore and have been writing them in my head since I flirted with the idea of keeping a blog.

Keeping an online journal is ironic for me ... I have a hard time writing anything down on paper, especially letters to people. It might be evidence. It might hurt someone's feelings. Who knows what it might do. It's a bit of a mental block (understatement). This blog is a way for me to go past "what other people think." I think I've gone beyond those childhood fears mentally, and maybe I have, but emotionally it's a different matter. Maybe I just need to look at things in an entirely new way.

Changing the Past: It has been maybe 20 years ago that I read a book by Ken Grimwood called Replay, which is about a 42 year old (apx) man who has a heart attack, dies and wakes up in his 18 year old body fully conscious of everything that had happened from 18 to 42. It happens again and again, but each time he wakes up in an older body (19, 24, etc.). You get the idea. What he does each time is fascinating in itself, but it had a strong impact on me. It enabled me to look at my past from an entirely different viewpoint. I've been thinking about this again lately. It's kind of addictive ... imagining a whole different life, imagining what I might have done differently. It's kind of like having a bird's-eye view ... a little more objectivity.

Generally, I avoid looking at my past. I didn't have the worst or the best childhood, but I wasn't all that pleased or proud of what I'd done or what I hadn't done. By changing the past, it almost feels as though I truly did change the past ... I could see what could be changed, what I might not have been able to do anything about and even forgive ... others, but especially myself.

Here's a mild example. If my 58 year old consciousness went back into my 13 year old body, what would I have done differently? I would have been a better student, for sure... hmmm, 7th and 8th Grade at Franklin Junior High School in Metuchen, New Jersey. Whew. Was I clueless! I had no confidence whatsoever. Some people remember all of their teachers. Not me. I'm sure I have selective forgetting -- probably because I've avoided thinking about my youth forever. However, different moments do pop into the forefront.

Pancakes in the Trunk
I remember having to give a speech in my 8th grade class. We were to tell a humorous anecdote so I went through my parents' books (They belonged to Book of the Month Club) and found a "Treasury of Humor." ... Well, I found a humorous story that had something to do with pancakes in a trunk. I don't remember it, but I thought it was very funny at the time. I remember getting up in front of the class and telling the anecdote. No one laughed. Blank faces stared back at me. At the time I figured it was all me ... I couldn't tell a joke. I was a failure. Funny how we get erroneous messages. Sure, my timing was probably off and the humor may have been too obscure for the audience, but looking at it now, the other students were probably more concerned about having to get up there and take their turns at comedy. I'd like to think that. But I've allowed that experience to keep me from telling jokes ... because I think I'm going to be really bad at it - (maybe that's true, but maybe it isn't). So, I don't tell jokes. But, I admire stand-up comedians and I imagine making an audience laugh has to be incredibly rewarding. If I had it to do over again knowing what I know, I might choose better material, I might be more comfortable with the audience, and if they still didn't laugh .... well, maybe it wasn't me.

I've looked for it but have never been able to find that pancake joke.

Addictions
This is a huge subject which will need more than a few lines, but I'll introduce it here. Could I have kept my mother from drinking? Probably not, but maybe I could have engaged her more person to person ... gotten her involved in something more outside of herself so that she had less time to turn within. Could I have influenced her to let go of smoking? Probably not. Maybe if I became "allergic" she would have modified her habits. It would be hard to go return to 1960 and have to experience all that secondhand smoke. Blegh!

How I Became ... No Longer a Smoker
If I went back in time conscious of what I know, I definitely would not pick up one cigarette. I don't remember exactly when I started. Maybe when I was 16? It was "forbidden" and therefore alluring and seemed like an exotic thing to do. I remember smoking Newports and Kools in the early days.
That first poisonous inhale was really quite awful. It made me dizzy. I Remember it vividly... I would definitely take that back. Generally being an addictive personality, it's easy to figure out what happened eventually. Cigarettes became my best friend, or so I thought. I switched to nonmenthols and "lighter" cigarettes over the years.

In 1987 I actually ceased to smoke for about 8 months. I knew I needed to stop smoking ... hey, it's just not healthy. I told myself that if I reached a certain weight, I would stop. I had pneumonia (the only time I ever had it) and reached my goal weight (which I'd set too low). I got on the scale one morning (before I had a smoke) and looked down at the dial and thought, "Oh, Shit." It was the impossible weight. Time kind of stopped in that moment. I Knew that it would never be easier than in that moment. It was as if "Spirit" was giving me a gift and I had only to accept it. I didn't have a cigarette. I accepted the gift. So, I breathed in air or drank water when I wanted a cigarette (and I hyperventilated for a couple of days). I sat with my smoker friends at work during lunch ... And it did Not bother me.

Things went well for a while. Moved, was in a different environment and having coffee one day with a neighbor who smoked. I played a little mental game that day and lost ... "I should be able to be moderate. I should be able to have a cigarette without getting carried away." I Knew I shouldn't have picked up that cigarette, but I did it anyway. In a week I was again a serious smoker. I must have still had something to learn.

I learned to be a considerate smoker. I went outside to smoke. But I was full-blown smoking. I had thrown away that gift ... painless "quitting."

In 1993 I was still smoking, but knew I needed to change that status, but how? Some people are moderate and not addictive people and have no problem "quitting" habits. For others it is nearly impossible. It has nothing to do with logic or reason. The addiction is emotional. It's your so-called "best friend." Illusory comfort. I know I have a hard time starting something, but once I do, I'm okay. But addictive I am.

During this time I had gone back to college and was taking summer school courses. I had 2 cartons of cigarettes in the car. I Knew I needed to stop smoking ... hey, it isn't healthy and I'm getting older, but stopping didn't appear to be in the picture. I had some conditions, too. I didn't want to be a bitch right after I stopped and I didn't want to start eating everything in sight. One week in June of 1993 I had three incidents happen, and I can't remember the second thing, but I remember the other two. I went to a Tae Kwon Do meet to watch my son perform. I went outside for a smoke at one point and a small boy of about four years old looks up at me and says very calmly and matter-of-factly in an adult manner, "Why do you smoke?" I mumbled something in reply, but I recognized that I was getting a "heads up" ... a bit of golden-tongued wisdom. "Spirit" was using what it had at hand to get through to me. Summer school went from Monday through Thursday. The third thing happened on Friday morning. I woke up with a sore throat. I never have a sore throat in the morning. I remember standing at the sink in my bathroom and Knowing that the only reason I had that sore throat was to make me pause before I automatically pick up a cigarette. And miracle of miracles, I had the choice in the moment ... where it felt like time stood still again ... to accept the gift.

For three days I sat numbly, forgot to breathe, then hyperventilated, drank water. There was no desire to have a cigarette because of these things:

I didn't quit. I simply became "no longer a smoker." There was nothing to fight, nothing to push against.
Smoking simply wasn't an option. No matter what, I could never have one puff.
It was Not my best friend. It was a false friend.

The Student Center at the college allowed smoking in one section at that time. That fall when I left that building and walked across campus, I noticed the back of my throat tasted like car exhaust. I realized it was from the secondary smoke and decided not to work in or frequent smoky environments in the future.

My system doesn't tolerate cigarette smoke any more. I choose not to eat in restaurants where smoking is permitted. I'm matter of fact about it, but that's just the way it is for me.

I have compassion for anyone with an addictive personality and a smoking habit. Although it has been almost 12 years since I last had a cigarette, I know that I am a "Smoke-aholic." To this day I can never have one puff, no matter what my treacherous mind might want to tell me. And it hasn't tried so far. If it did, I would be right back where I was. So, smoking is simply Not an option.

I've gotten carried away, naturally. This is kind of interesting! Maybe there are pearls ... or maybe not.