Drowning and Then Swimming

Another night, another book.  The covers and titles change.  The message remains the same.  I am in search of creativity.  Something inside the deepest part of my being continues calling out.  A longing for more.  Words on a page.  Colors brushed across textured paper.  A world captured by a lens.  There is an even louder clammer going on inside my head and heart.  Mantras repeated until I feel nauseous every time I think and repeat them.  They dull the life trying to find the surface.  I am a person engulfed by worries, cares, perceptions, and beliefs all trying to keep me from taking that gasp of air.  You’ve done it, too.  You have literally swam underwater until your lungs felt like they were going to explode.  Your body found a way to shoot towards the sun to gulp, choke and find your breath.

Tonight I read and underlined sentences.  Someone else’s words thrown like a lifeline of hope to me.  I was so moved, emotions raw and longing, I nearly cried as I ran to my laptop to put anything down.  My purpose?  Clarity?  No!  I want to share.  I want to shout out to the world, to the person who is struggling like me to “BECOME” someone you’ve always longed to be but buried beneath the rules, the “you must do this”, you cannot afford to dream, the honorable and right thing to do is play along nicely.  Remain silent and just keep your head down, moving forward.  Rather, being pushed forward by the crowds directing your path.  The echoes continue:  you’re too old, it’s too late, it will take too much energy and time, you won’t make a difference anyway so why try?

I’ll tell you why I will try.  IT WILL MAKE A DIFFERENCE TO ME!!!  Did you hear that shout from across the country?  My endeavors in creativity will bring peace, calm, happiness, joy, contentment, satisfaction, excitement, fulfillment and a sense of wholeness to my soul.  I have spent the majority of my life pouring energy and love into others.  You know who always received the leftover bits?  The crumbs?  Me.  Even tonight it is late and I should be finding myself snuggled under blankets and quilts so I can be alive enough in the morning to arise and do it all again.  Make another call, help another person, and organize another class.  I find each of those efforts do bring me satisfaction.  During these moments my heart feels warm and full and a smile of contentment falls across my lips.

What would I do with unlimited time?  Write a play.  Compose a song.  Paint a picture.  Publish a book of photographs by a true amateur.  Life Behind the Lens of a Seeker.  I have pages of journal entries with their own hopes and dreams of making it outside the bindings.  I would learn to dance.

What calls you?  Is there something you have longed to experience your entire life but the voices inside your head have uttered lies.  I am here to speak truth.  It is never too late.  You are not too young, too old, too inexperienced, too practical.  Your longings are not impractical dreams.  Listen to them.  When my final breath is taken, I don’t want the last regret to be, “I wish I had told the story, swayed to the music, laughed with pure delight, or allowed the strokes of a brush to create something beautiful.”

Let your gaze look towards the surface.  You might feel like life has swallowed you whole.  Engulfed by everything and everyone around you.  Look up.  Laser focused.  Swim with all the strength left in your being and as you reach the surface, breath.  Take the deepest breath and begin again.

Pies

This is about pies.  Not pies in the literal sense.  If you prefer cakes, take my analogy and transfer it into that realm.  Pies, cakes, tarts, whatever your prefer to consume, stay with me.  Ride the analogy wave.

I’m reading Everything is Figure Outable, by Marie Forleo.  The current chapter being obliterated with pen via underlining and writing notes in the margins is, “Define Your Dream.”  One of her key points:  “Clarity comes from engagement, not thought.”  My pen continues its journey across the page. 

“Whenever you’re trapped in the hell of indecision, do something about it as quickly as possible.  Find a way to take a tangible, real action and you’ll be rewarded with priceless feedback to inform your next steps.”

That did it.  Okay, Marie, I’m finding a free online writing course.  I have this outrageous dream of being a writer.  Just because I can string some words together in a sentence, somehow I don’t think that makes me a writer.  (Clarity Lesson #1:  If you can string together words in a sentence, they intellectually sound reasonable and people latch onto them, YOU ARE A WRITER.). After doing some research, I rediscovered “coursra,” a website with hundreds of classes you can either pay to receive a certificate of completion or audit free.  I chose the latter, enrolling in “Healing with the Arts.”  It was nestled under the writing section and since my daughter is registered for a similar class next semester at her college, why not?  Enrolled and excited, I began listening to the first series of videos.  Wham!  Creative vibes began pulsing through my veins and I thought of pies.

Reread my introduction if you have forgotten I’m not talking about literal pies.  Although, what is your favorite pie?  When I was growing up my mother made the richest chocolate pudding pie that could tantalize your taste buds. 

Years ago I belonged to an organization that made pies.  To protect the names of the innocent and guilty and preserve my own integrity with how I treat people, I am changing the scenario.  We didn’t really make pies.  The organization was, however, run on a set of principles of pie making.  You could only buy certain ingredients and make a very specific type of pie based on your belief that this organization held the true recipe for all pies and everyone should conform to this pie making experience.  I ate the pie for awhile.  I religiously made the pie alongside other bakers.  I believed I had found the recipe for the perfect pie!  It tasted good and I wanted others to be converted to this one and only true pie.  Then I got hit in the face with a pie.

After attending a conference on how to teach making pies to young children, I returned with a creative way to teach this cooking course.  It was fun!  I bought new mixing bowls and pie plates and presented it to the leadership.  One of the other pie makers became enraged!  She had been wanting to make pies in this new creative way for a long time.  I was stealing her dream.  What?  I had no idea she wanted to make creative pies.  She fired pie after pie into my face.  The final decision was made by the Ultimate Supreme Pie Maker of this organization, I could make my pies but I must do so in the basement where no one could see them except the children with whom I worked.  It was determined her students of pie making might become jealous, resentful, even sad their pie making experience was not as fun.

The entire pie baking industry fell apart for me.  I lost my excitement.  I succumbed to hiding in the basement trying to put together pies with children being contained to a small space.  Imagine if the other dreamer had said to me, “Holy Jehoshaphat!  I’ve wanted to make those kinds of pies too!  Can we meet and figure out how to convert this entire children’s pie making program into the best bakery in town?  Then all the children will want to come learn about making this kind of pie.”

This event has been tucked into the time capsule of my mind for over 14 years.  It’s actually kind of freeing to remember it in terms of making pies instead of describing it by the true events.  Using a new translation, I was able to see how much of life can be viewed through this lens.  Dare I say, most areas of our lives?  Think about work, relationships, politics (oh dear, let’s not visit this area just yet), religion, education, fashion, and so on.  I’m not sure it’s over simplifying to say each segment operates on a set of core values.  These are two buzz words being used today.  Each area has its rules for making pies.  The difficulty some pie makers have is being willing to sample new ingredients.  Improve on the recipe.  Talk to other pie makers about their process or the source of their ingredients and how to make them into a very delicious pie.

I am not so naive as to believe every pie is meant to be tasty to everyone.  In fact, some pies should not be sampled at all.  Some might be rather bitter and perhaps poisonous.  We, you and I, might miss out on some fabulous Mississippi Mud Pie if we only consume apple, cherry or even my beloved chocolate pudding pie.  If we are willing to speak with the cake bakers, an entirely new experience may await our palates!

Just for today, I ask myself, “Am I willing to engage with other pie makers?”  My neighbors, community leaders, and others who may cross my path.  Might I exclaim, “Holy Jehoshaphat!  I’ve wanted to make a pie like yours!  Will you be willing to teach me?”

….and so I write.

Which “Sigh” are You On?

I enjoy a play on words.  On the slight chance you’ve never heard the expression, “Whose Side Are You On Anyway?,” this blog post launches from it.

Have you ever known someone who sigh’s quite a bit?  I mean A LOT?  It seems like every other breath contains a deep inhalation accompanied by an exhalation so loud it can be heard in the next state.  The frequency is so much you want to pull your hair out, scream or run from the room.

According to Jordan Gaines Lewis, Ph.D. in her article, “Why Do We Sigh?” (Psychology Today, April 10, 2013),

“In general, the experimenters noted that sighs are associated with a negative mood—a sign of disappointment, defeat, frustration, boredom, and longing….”

This would explain why I’m tempted to do all three behaviors listed above:  pull, scream, run.  My list of reasons for a person’s sigh of negativity include some of Dr. Lewis’ and others generated by my own brain.  In no particular order, there is a sigh of:

• disappointment
• frustration
• sadness
• exhaustion
• exasperation
• regret
• resignation

On the other hand, I believe there can also be another kind of sigh.  The positive sighs of:

• contentment
• joy
• fulfillment
• peace
• rest
• gratitude
• pleasure
• delight

When you are on the receiving end of the negative sigh:

• How do you currently respond?
• Have you been conditioned to respond emotionally to the negative sigh?
• Is there something you can do?

Personally, I find I become tense when I have been conditioned in my response to a particular person.  Are you familiar with the terms “Debbie Downer and Negative Nellie”?  By the way, why do they have women’s names?  Just curious.  Chronic negative “sighers” infiltrating my world of sunshine and roses wear me out and break my spirit.  Time passes and I have unconsciously taken on their negativity.  Before long it becomes like a norovirus and everyone is down.  What are my choices?

• Limit my interactions with this person.
• Create distance between us.
• Determine if the person should remain in my life.
• Release them from my life:  physically, emotionally and mentally.
• Choose my attitude and adjust my expectations.

In Jon Acuff’s book, Do Over, Rescue Monday, Reinvent Your Work and Never Get Stuck (Portfolio Penguin, 2015), he offers some great advice on having a better job instantly.  “All you have to do is choose your attitude and adjust your expectations.” (p. 22)

Pages 23 and 24 are highlighted, underlined, starred and contain brackets around entire paragraphs.  Let me share some with you.

“Choose your attitude every day until eventually it chooses you right back.”

“Don’t listen to feelings.  Make choices.  Today, choose a good attitude.”

“To have an expectation is to have a hope.  To have a dream.  To have a desire about something you want to happen.  Surely, deadening our ability to hope is not the solution to our frustration at work.  The trick is not to eliminate your expectations: the trick is to adjust them.  Write them down and then find the right home for them.”

Choosing an attitude and adjusting expectations apply beyond a work environment.  I always have a choice.  I should not expect the chronic negative person to change unless THEY choose to make that transition.  I am not powerless.  You are not powerless.  We always have choices.  The difficulty is recognizing AND implementing them.

Go ahead.  Take that deep breath.  Let it out.  Sigh.  Clear your mind.  Calm your soul. Allow the corners of your mouth to turn up ever so slightly.  Do something that brings about a positive breath of contentment, peace, clarity, rest, delight and gratitude.  This is how I breath as I write.  When the words come to a close, I fill my lungs, close my eyes and smile.

 

 

It’s Not Too Late! Make 2018 Your Best Christmas Ever!

December 25 is on every calendar, every year.  Yet somehow it manages to sneak up and explode into my life as if I did not have 364 days to prepare for its arrival.  When December 26 rolls around, I think, “Well, it will be a long time until next year.”  To my amazement, the days fly by and here I am once again with Christmas Eve looming.

Amidst the tradition of putting up the tree and other decorations, I find myself in the middle of my annual dilemma, “How do I make this year the BEST Christmas ever?” Talk about putting pressure and stress on a life already wound tighter than the Little Drummer Boy’s drum!

Like the Ghost of Christmas Past, take my hand and travel back in time to Christmas 2017.  My kids and I loaded the car and drove to upstate New York, looking forward to spending the holiday with family.  I wouldn’t say we live for road trips, but we can make 20 hours of driving into some of the funniest and family bonding times you have ever witnessed.  My son calls such moments, “Family Unity Projects.”  We made Facebook live videos, revisited the West Virginia Rest Stop where an unforgettable and quite hilarious memory had been created, and drove through ice and snow.  Christmas Eve Sunday morning we attended church with my brother and sister-in-law.  It was magical and miraculous.  I can still see the decorations, smell the wooden pews, hear traditional Christmas hymns and recall the minister’s sermon about the inspiration of the lights and candles decorating the church.  Christmas Day, we awoke to 6-8 inches of the freshest snow—the White Christmas everyone sings and dreams about experiencing.  After shoveling, cleaning off cars and learning to use a snow blower, we spent much of the morning tubing down the hill outside their back door.  Throughout the day more family members dropped by bringing laughter and love.  A delicious dinner was consumed and we returned to the hill, tubing and climbing repeatedly well into the dark.  By now the trail was so slick we found ourselves reaching the end of the line amid branches, brambles and the trees to which they were attached.  The only obstacle creating a barrier to the fun, ending the adventure was one particular tree that decided to jump out and meet the side of my son’s head.  Gasp!  I’m happy to report he survived with no long lasting effects.

It only gets better.  The next day we went skiing at West Mountain, the place I learned to fly down slopes with boards strapped to my feet.  One of my dreams had been to see if this aging body could once again make it down at least a bunny slope.  With an hour of ski lessons and review under my belt, I spent the rest of our time on the bunny slope gloriously grabbing the rope tow and indeed gliding down.  The day was filled with some challenges but we managed to overcome and left with exhausted and full hearts.  Did I mention it was one of the coldest days, hovering around 18 degrees above zero?  Magnificent!  The mountain beckons me back.  Next visit I will venture beyond bunny slopes!

The remaining time in New York was spent reconnecting with relatives, going bowling, having evening meals and playing games seated around the kitchen table.  Was this the BEST Christmas ever?  I can’t tell you, but it rates a 10/10 on my scale.  Do I wish I could repeat Christmas 2017?  You bet!  Alas, it’s not meant to be.  So I face the problem shared in paragraph #2.  How do I make this the best Christmas ever?  How can I top last year?  I started thinking about how we certainly can make the holidays a miserable time for ourselves and everyone around us.  One word—expectations.  Unmet expectations can leave us empty, lonely, heartbroken, angry, frustrated and miserable.  Rather than list all the ways to muck up Christmas, I decided to jot down a few things we can do to ensure we not only survive this special season, but perhaps create a 10/10 every year.

My list – in no particular order:

1. Enjoy all the Christmas and Hallmark Movies to your heart’s content without expecting your life to mimic the story lines.  Remember they are movies.  The characters may certainly mimic some of our experiences and relatives, but life does not tidy up and resolve itself in one syrupy sweet two hour period.  Life is messy.  Relationships are too.  Personally, my favorite movie is “It’s A Wonderful Life.”  My children can attest to this as I forced them to watch it every Christmas Eve.  I think 2017 was the first year we skipped the tradition.  Remember, we were in New York creating new memories.
2. Think about the past with loving nostalgia but choose to live in the moment and not miss this year’s memories.  I could get completely wrung out and hung up on the fact we are not in New York for Christmas 2018.  I nearly caved to the pressure.  However, even if we could have made the trip, this year would not provide the same experiences.  Cherish what has taken place in your life, but wait with open arms to embrace what is yet to be.
3. Expect joy from the unexpected and not the gifts under the tree (or the ones you think are missing). Maybe this comes with the calendar years passing at lightning speed and I approach the next decade.  Things will never create lasting joy.  Even the fond memories we have of gifts are not about the actual item.  Think about the best present you ever received.  Was it the gift or the experiences you enjoyed with it?  With each passing year I find myself desiring the presence of those I cherish in my life and time we can spend together.  I have all the material “stuff” I could ever own.  Shiny and bright eventually turns to dull and worn.  The brightness inside of people has the power and potential to increase and never fade.
4. Embrace the people around you as well as your circumstances, giving up the temptation to compare your life and celebration with those of others. One goal of marketing is to create desire.  Hungering, starving desire about a life we do not have and yet think we need to find fulfillment.  If we spend any amount of time pondering what we don’t possess, seeds of envy, greed, and discontent begin to take root in our hearts and minds.  We soon forget our abundance.  One thing I have learned is that there will always be someone in a more comfortable lifestyle than mine and equally someone who wishes for my life.  Comparison is the thief of joy.  Don’t let it steal from you the best Christmas 2018 offers.
5. Take a walk, make a phone call, and drop off cookies to a lonely neighbor instead of spending hours on social media. Connect with friends and family long distance via social media—absolutely!  But…what about a phone call?  It was part of my childhood to spend time sitting on a front porch, in a living room, around a table with people.  Please make sure to spend time away from electronics with the people inside your house as well.
6. Play board games with your family instead of ones on your phone. Enough said.
7. End the day writing in a journal all the moments from the day. What made you smile? Did you overcome a challenge?  I wish I were better at writing in a journal. I’m not even sure what a journal is “supposed” to look like.  I have several.  They are filled with “me.”  I think my kids should burn them when I’m gone.  I lack consistency.  That’s me too.  There is one designated for gratitude.  Time to pull it out and free myself from that horrible word of “expectations” and begin again.

Two days.  That’s all I have left in preparation for Christmas 2018.  We have the same two days.  Will you join me in seeking and embracing the unexpected joy awaiting us in the days ahead?  Then if we have been graced with life in 2019, we can look back with fondness on the memories of today.  I would love to hear you share a memory from this year in the comment section below.  That, too, brings me great joy.

Of Peas and Victories

I’ve been working at this writing thing sporadically for the past several years.  It is so infrequent, you might characterize me as an infant or toddler when it comes to picking up a writing utensil and attempting to capture my thoughts using whatever means necessary to put words into intelligible sentences.  Like the child trying to pick the pea up with a fork, I’ve been stabbing at my brain and keyboard hoping to stop ideas from just rolling around in my head and instead be raised in triumphant victory for the world to read.  I find it humorous this visualization came to me because honestly, sometimes I feel like a pea-brain.

As I reflect, I no doubt resemble the two-year old who has discovered a Sharpie for the first time, well more like the entire pack of vibrant colors, and with wild abandonment created a masterpiece on the living room wall.  It is at this point, I re-arrange the furniture to hide my latest piece de resistance.  My mother once told a similar tale of two siblings who decided to explore their artistic abilities with crayons and wallpaper.  I wonder what thoughts were running through their minds as they put wax to wall.  The story goes, after completing their design, the bedroom furniture was found in a new configuration.  However, as the interrogation unfolded, the drawings were discovered.  As with many oral histories, facts may have been also re-arranged throughout subsequent years.  I smile at the image of two little boys standing before their accusers, big eyes looking up, master design behind their trembling bodies and wish for an ending where such passionate spontaneity and creativity was celebrated instead of punished.

This is my writing life.  Bursts of color, brilliance and breath.  My lines are scribbles or sweeping broad-strokes of joy.  The interpretation of finished design is truly in the eye of the individual beholder.  My intentions may not meet your expectations or they may present a different image.  BUT….my words are still MY masterpiece.  It is risky to expose myself via this medium.  While I do not hide behind literal sofas, tables and chairs, I can keep my creations shrouded for years in saved files, journals on shelves and stored under lock and key inside my own mind and heart.  Images and designs longing to be freed.

Today is another example of a longing to live out my purpose.  Fully believing every part of my being was designed to write, I stumbled from sleeping stupor, to coffee pot, to desk and computer.  A different picture came to existence than the one envisioned.  A myriad of images are all vying to find life in this world.  Someone once told me, “You have a lot of stuff going on inside your head trying to find its way out.”  Sometimes, however, it takes a stillness, a willingness to simply “be” and listen.

As I finish, I want to ask…So what does this say to you?  How will taking a few seconds of your life reading this, change your future?  Is there something you’ve been stabbing at, feeling unsuccessful, and abandoning?  The more times you stab at that pea, the better you will become at raising it in triumph.

 

The Pause

Last year I purchased a small book titled, 100 Days to Brave: Devotions for Unlocking Your Most Courageous Self, by Annie F. Downs.  Events began cascading into a place of alignment.  Moments calling for courage last fall.  Winter brought the accomplishment of a dream with skis once again under my feet.  Leaping across the country after New Year’s only to take that next step in personal growth.  It wasn’t a conscious thought my word for 2018 would be “Brave.”  Today I find myself staring down an unknown.  Eyes locked, feet grounded, heart trembling.  I pause, open the pages and read.  Then I write.

“When we see brave out in the world, it inspires us, doesn’t it?…..not only do we need to share our brave, but we need to actively look for it as well……Do you see brave when you look around your life?….Who is displaying courage?…I’ll even look…WHEN YOU HEAR OTHER STORIES, THEY WILL SOUND LIKE YOUR STORY…AND WE WILL CHEER FOR EACH OTHER, AND SEE COURAGE IN EACH OTHER, AND WE WILL ALL BE BRAVER FOR IT.”  (Emphasis is mine.)

I opened my journal and began to write.  Some of the words are meant only for me. Thoughts to consider.  Challenges to address.  It may be some of  my words are universal.  Have we lost the ability to LOOK, to SEE, to APPRECIATE, to ACCEPT, to PAUSE and truly notice those around us?  Is it possible we can overlook the BRAVE being displayed in the lives of those whose paths we cross every day?  I penned, “To pause….instead we react quickly.  Our minds operate like the fast food, fast-paced, instant delivery society we have evolved into and come to expect.  Opinions and emotions are spoken without the due diligence as to the damage that can be done in an instant. ”

Then I raised my hand in guilt.  For surely I  begin to catch myself making snap judgments, instantaneous critical thoughts of others.  Have I forgotten to practice The Pause, allowing me the ability to be still and make decisions based not only on a swift response but a thought-out answer?  Indeed, there are those moments in life you have to be quick, but maybe we need to revisit them in quiet privacy where we afford them a deserved examination.

If we don’t practice “The Pause” it becomes progressively difficult to observe the courage and bravery surrounding us every day.  Having a darkened outlook and perspective robs us of the ability to be amazed and open to hearing other people’s stories.  Not the prattle coming out of their mouths, but the epic being written in their hearts.  It takes slowing down, becoming still and actively searching.  It takes effort and an act of sacrifice.  I must have a willingness to listen rather than be heard.  Ouch!  Sometimes I’m so busy using a megaphone to tell my story, I have blindly passed by someone whose narrative of bravery and courage is the message I truly need to hear.

I started thinking about the Indian tale of the blind men and the elephant.  Six men approach an elephant and grab onto a different part of it’s body, proclaiming their belief of the what the elephant is like.  A wall, a spear, a snake, a tree, a fan, a rope.  The poem ends with this verse,

“And so these men of Indostan
Disputed loud and long,
Each in his own opinion
Exceeding stiff and strong,
Though each was partly in the right,
And all were in the wrong!”

If the men in this tale had practiced “The Pause” and been willing to reach out and touch the other parts of the beast, the story would have had a different ending.  I don’t live in a vapor.  We will not agree all the time.  Understanding won’t flow smoothly.  This post does not have a political agenda, but a personal one.  An agenda of persons.  Those who live in our homes, work by our sides and we serve each day.  The questions I ask myself, I present to you:

• Do I look for inspiration?
• Who is displaying courage in their life?
• What amazes me?
• Have I lost the art of appreciating differences?
• What will I do when I cross paths with someone who is so different from me?
• How do I determine the amount of time, energy and space to allow people to have in my life?
• What is the line between affording people the space they breathe into my life, the power of influence I grant them and the choice to make where sometimes I shakily etch the line in the sand?

Dale Carnegie wrote, “Remember that a person’s name is to that person the sweetest and most important sound in any language.”  How wonderful when we hear our name being chanted from the sidelines as others cheer for us.  They raise their voices in joyous song encouraging us as we stumble along the road of courage and bravery.  May we not forget to Pause and bring our voices to the rally cry for others.  Today I applaud you.  The fire you are walking through, the mountain you must climb, the fear you face around the corner.  Can you hear my voice rise, “Thank you.  Take my hand.  Be strong.  I see your Bravery.”

Things That Go “Bump” in the Night

Writing prompts.  Love them.  They keep me in the game while I try to make time for more “serious” projects.  One of my favorite resources, Old Friend From Far Away, by Natalie Goldberg.  One morning I started the following 10 minute assignment.  “What Keeps You Awake at Night?”  Delicious topic.

I began listing all those things that used to keep me awake.  I’m not sure if they are in any particular order.  Pen in hand was overtaken by thoughts in brain.  Maybe by the end of this piece I will re-arrange them according to their significance.  Here goes.  Strap yourself in for the ride.

Fear of falling asleep and not waking up.  Dying.  This one hounded me for years.  The seeds of anxiety and terror were sown upon the fertile soil of a developing physiological brain and blossoming imagination.  Their tentacled roots ran deep, intertwined and took my childhood captive.

One major influence was the church our family attended weekly. Sermons of damnation, hell-fire and brimstone awaited me.  Backsliding with every “sin” brought more fright. What if I told a lie and died immediately after uttering the words? I would certainly be cast aside into the flames waiting to consume my flesh.  Movies our youth group attended on “The Rapture.”  People disappearing.  One moment you are sleeping next to your loved one; in the blink of an eye you are alone.  Alone to face the impending apocalypse, suffering and certain gruesome death.  It would be years before I heard of a God who actually loved me rather than one waiting to squash me like the bug I presumed I was under his holy shoe.

The Fear of Dying  began in earnest at 29.  During that time a major life altering event occurred to our family.  Stress impacted my health in a way unimaginable to an otherwise carefree and relatively healthy life.  A mysterious illness overtook my body leaving me unable to function.  It would take monumental effort to care for myself. Showering in the morning was followed by collapsing.  Someone had to dry my hair.  Too weak to hold the dryer.  I remember the day of celebration when I could once again stand long enough to load a dishwasher.

Sometimes this old friend tries to creep back into my life creating chaos.  When someone close to my heart dies, illness occurs and generally thinking about my age, I feel a faint fluttering in my chest.  I’m on the downside of midlife.

The BIGGER fear, however, is NOT LIVING.  When that last breath leaves my body, I want to know I’ve done everything possible to impact the lives of others beyond the scope of my vision.  I want to have taken risks which paid off beyond their investment.  Existence is not an option.

Fear of what is outside in the dark.  A fear greater than that of the proverbial boogie-man or monster-in-the-closet.  Deep seeded terror. Maybe I watched too many news programs.  So many “bad” people waiting to get me.  Actually, they were plotting and planning to get me.  Kidnappers and murderers.

I remember a time when I was about nine years old.  A manhunt was in progress for a prison escapee.  Extremely dangerous.  My father’s job required him to do rotating shifts. How convenient this was the week he would be gone from 11:00 p.m. – 7:00 a.m.  My bedroom was located on the front of the house. Second story.  It also just happened to be convenient my father chose this time to install siding on our house.  Guess where the ladder was left at the end of a work day.  Yes.  Outside my bedroom window.  SERIOUSLY?  Couldn’t we just put a HUGE sign up with an arrow pointing at my window saying, “Terrified girl inside waiting for you to cut the screen out, unlock the window, climb through, snatch her from her bed and try to squeeze both of you out.”  My window was so small it would have been nearly impossible to fit one person (let alone two) through it.  Did I leave out the tiny detail the prison was located MILES away?  It didn’t matter to my child’s brain. What would cause someone to believe so strongly in the possibility she would lie awake at night, trembling under the blankets?  Imagination?

Loneliness.  A broken heart.  Many nights my pillows absorbed the tears as they flowed freely, but silently.  Body trying not to shake with the sobs threatening to surface.  Unable to turn off  thoughts of how I could change to fix what was falling apart.

Other Challenging Times.  All of these affected my ability to sleep on some level.

• A sick child
• A child’s happiness (or lack thereof)
• A son moving away for college
• Anything pertaining to parenthood!
• Meeting monetary needs, aka bills and more bills
• Job and career choices
• Watching my mother fade away and waiting for her to take the last breath

Beautiful Moments.   On the bright side, there are plenty of times filled with joy which kept me awake at night.

• Movies
• Reading a good book
• Dancing at disco clubs (yes I really am dating myself)
• Intimate conversations
• Studying for exams (maybe not beautiful, but memorable nonetheless)

Road Trips.  Long drives to visit family, vacations, business conventions and exploration. Anticipation of the joy waiting for me when I reach my destination.  Conversations, laughter, music, audio books all providing moments of relaxation, growth and togetherness.  One trip, however, proved to be challenging.  I’m sure my brother and I would most likely plan it a little differently were we to do a repeat.

Living in San Diego, our family of three was being transferred to what we believed was going to be Scotland.  With limited time to drive across the country to New York and drop the car off for shipping, one of my brothers was willing to fly out and assist driving me and my 18 month old son on his second major road trip (my son’s second trip, that is). This would the “Mother of All Trips.”  My brother debarked the plane around 1:00 pm and immediately began seeing the dust of California in the rear view mirror.  We drove nonstop to somewhere in the middle of the country.  HOURS.  I remember the need to switch drivers almost every sixty minutes in the middle of Arizona or New Mexico (possibly both) because falling asleep at the wheel was not an option.

To keep an 18 month old, strapped in his car seat, entertained proved to be no easy task. However, I was prepared; armed with every “Wee Sing” children’s tape available. Imagine, if you will, when my brother drove we listened to heavy metal.  My turn changed the station to country.  The baby cried, Wee Sing.  Who won out the most? Wee Sing.  By the end of the journey my brother solemnly vowed his children would NEVER listen to a single Wee Sing tape.  (I don’t even think he was married at the time.)  They NEVER did either.

The other brilliant idea popping into my head half way across our great country was to stop at a toy store and reload with some fresh offerings.  It must have been driving with minimal sleep.  Nothing else could explain why a mother would purchase a push-button toy making farm animal sounds and a drum.  Wee Sing, Moo, Baaa, Bang Bang.  It wasn’t just the drive keeping us awake at night.  Ah, but the memories.

The Beach.  More specifically the ocean.  The first time I laid eyes on the ocean I was 19. The sounds and vast expanse mesmerized me, forever changing my life.  I will always love and cherish the mountains.  The beach beckons me.  Nothing can compare to the beach at night.

Once upon a time there was a formal dinner.  A co-ed helped her roommate sell tickets and do whatever was asked to assist in its planning.  In return, the co-ed was rewarded with two tickets to the magical night at a restaurant in Boston.  Dare she invite the man she watched from her window as he crossed the quad every day? The handsome, gentle and kind man who was also a friend?  He said yes.  It truly was magical.  He appeared in a tux to whisk her off to the city.  So beautiful was the moment, their picture appeared in the annual.

When the carriage returned to campus, clothes were changed and the co-ed, her roommate and their dates headed to the beach.  Walking, sitting on a huge stone jetty and talking under the starts until the wine was finished, proved to be more than she could ever imagine.  As the evening drew to a close, the prince walked the co-ed to her dorm.  Electricity pulsed in the night.  Yes, he did brush her lips with a tender kiss.

I would relive these moments as those in the movie “Groundhog Day.” Over and over and over.  Moments that kept me awake on a spring night.

As I finish this 10 minute task, which has proven to take several hours, I pause and consider my list.  Are there any I would eliminate from my life?  Avoiding pain and sorrow?  Struggles and hardships?  While unpleasant they are often the catalyst for growth, maturity and developing a quiet wisdom.  All of these moments tell me I am ALIVE.  So I keep them.  I examine and remember.  I smile, laugh and cry.

I Breathe.

 

 

Toast

Maybe 7th Grade Home Economics was the Divining Rod of my future. Whenever I pointed myself in the direction of cooking, sewing and all things related to this particular field of study, no mystical response of vibrations surged through my body telling me, “Walk this way, walk this way…”  (Throwback to Aerosmith).

Perhaps the first indication much work needed to be done occurred when our team received the assignment to prepare breakfast.  We poured over cookbooks.  I can still visualize the classroom nearly 40 years later.  Toast.  We would not only make “TOAST”, ours was to be “SPECIAL” toast.  OUR toast would be sprinkled with magical colors, aka sugar. Pause and think about this.  Do we really need colored toast?  Were we looking for an “Easy A?”  I was about to find an “Easy F” on my project.

The recipe directed us to butter the bread, sprinkle on various colors and bake in the OVEN.  In my defense, can I just say it might have been a group decision to divert from the sequences listed in the directions?  The clock could have been ticking faster than we anticipated.  Maybe we didn’t need to revert to archaic methods of food preparation. After all, appliances were created for convenience and meant to be used. Therefore, when I buttered and sprinkled the bread and proceeded to put it in the toaster, I might have acted in good faith, right?  The volume of the SCREAM from my teacher’s mouth alerted me enough to pause before I pushed the lever down.  Who knew you shouldn’t put buttered bread in a toaster?  Just because my mom had been buttering the bread AFTER toasting, maybe I was onto something NEW?  Actually, I was onto nearly frying the toaster.

Yesterday I prepared dinner for about 16.  My daughter’s youth group and choir meet on Sunday evenings.  Between activities, they consume a “Snack Supper.”  What I hear is “Five Course Meal Supper.”  Typical overachiever, perfectionist and might I add, “Super Mom,” I lived up to my expectations.  Not their expectations.  Mine.  Parents choose two Sundays each year to provide this repast for our kids.  Twice a year I fly into panic and kitchen maniac mode. There have been meals I prepared for the group where food disappeared in true Biblical locust-ravaging proportions.  At those times, the end of the line folks held out their bowls or plates, and I scraped the pans hoping to provide something for them.  I promised myself I wouldn’t get caught with my pants down next time, no sir.  On those nights, other scheduling conflicts occurred, attendance was low and it seemed as if the food continued to multiply during the serving.  Those evenings I returned home wondering what the heck I was going to do with all the leftovers.

Are you curious how last night rolled?  The leadership MAY have told me I would be using a different kitchen for food preparation as needed.  (Sometimes I cook everything at home.)  It was a busy week and I assumed the reminder email was just that–a reminder.  Since I’ve done this gig for four years…I didn’t read the email.  There I stood, in an industrial type kitchen, scanning the huge stainless steel machinery, looking for a simple burner on which to boil water for the pasta.  I found something that appeared it could function as a burner, took a tremendously huge pot to the sink, filled it halfway with water, placed it on the flat plate, turned the dial under what I hoped was a burner and watched.  Oh yes, the proverbial statement is true.  “A watched pot never boils.”   I stared at the water for 40 minutes hoping it would start bubbling sometime in this century.  Giving up any hope, with only 20 minutes left, I emptied the boxes of pasta into the pot, hoping for a miracle.  A few more minutes passed.  It was at this point I began bailing.  Bailing water from that huge pot faster than the captain on a sinking ship.  The water never truly came to a boil, but somehow the miracle occurred and the pasta cooked to al dente.  My daughter pronounced the meal a success.  She hugged me and thanked me profusely, repeating, “They love your cooking, Mom!”

The kids moved on to singing and I returned to the kitchen for clean up.  I used all four sinks, shaking my head, wondering if I used every pot and pan.   By the way, that’s an exaggeration.  Oh I really did use all four sinks, but there were plenty of pots and pans left untouched.  It was at this point my mind oscillated between middle school memories and admiration for all those in the restaurant industry.  My time:  one day. My customer base: 16-20 (last night).  I have prepared for upwards of 30.  I am in absolute AWE of those who do this EVERY day for hundreds of people.  Respect.  Gratitude. Appreciation.

As I drove home, exhausted but filled with satisfaction, it occurred to me I did not miss my calling.  I am so grateful for the work I do as a fitness professional.  I would train a THOUSAND people per day rather than cook for a crowd on a daily basis.  My purpose in writing tonight is to share the humorous situations in which I manage to find, and often create, for myself.  Lessons learned.  (Don’t just check email; actually read it.  I still haven’t opened the note.)  Please understand this: the opportunity to prepare a meal for my daughter, her friends and the adult leadership is a privilege.  I am so grateful for the past five years.  I adore her choir director and youth group leaders.  They pour themselves into my daughter and the other young men and women.  Investment in others.  Personal sacrifice.  They are fulfilling their calling.

Would this be an appropriate time to pose a few questions?  Are YOU fulfilling your calling? Does your heart sing and your mind race with excitement as you meet each day? Some tasks require a little more effort and energy.  Sometimes you have to bail. Then there are those moments you step out and up to something outside your natural gifts and talents.  Move into those moments.  Don’t always look for the lessons to learn.  Just live in them.  Do your best.  Avoid getting hung up on yourself.  You might miss the people.  Be present.  These might sound like directives I’m pushing into your sacred space. However, they are reminders to me.  When I step outside what is normal and comfortable for me, sometimes magical and colorful toast appears.

Coaching Through the Broken Places

Oh no!  Not another pensive and heavy blog post!  Not even going to be close.  Today I spent some time thinking about this “official” job title I have as a Fitness Professional, Personal Trainer, “Coach.”  Perky.  Positive.  Persistent.  (Some might say relentless.) Resilient.  I bring these character traits to the sacred space of my work every day.  Years ago I developed a habit of visually dropping any baggage at the door as I prepared to enter the sanctuary of serving others.  Some days I could almost see “them” sitting on the sidewalk–waiting to be muscled up on my back for the return trip home. Other times I was able to bounce my way through the parking lot, having forgotten “something” was waiting for me.  This is an appropriate and essential mindset to develop.  I wasn’t being a poser.

Broken places.  Unexpected challenges.  Boxing rings we find ourselves tossed into without warning.  Mats upon which we’ve been thrown with a surprise maneuver from life.  Everyone has been in a Broken Place, faced a Challenge, felt a Right Hook and been Wrestled down into a pinned position.  It is who we prove to be in the midst of these times our character is revealed. How we determine our thoughts, control our emotions and plan our course directing the outcome.

One article I came across in my search for how to handle a private situation gave several suggestions.  The three I would like to share follow.

1.  There is a connection between emotional and physical distress.  The author outlines the usefulness of physical activity to begin healing.  Exercise, chores, dancing, walking, MOVING. You know those events which bring paralysis, where you end up curled in a fetal position.  Your heart feels like it will pound out of your chest?  Maybe it doesn’t happen often. Perhaps it will happen tomorrow.  Getting physical doesn’t mean ignoring the emotional distress.  My backyard is looking fantastic!  Weeds have been pulled, the patio raked and swept.  Sweat poured from my body today until it ran down my face and into my eyes.  I could feel the salt of sweat rather than taste the salt of tears.  It was GOOD.
2. The next suggestion was to begin putting your surroundings back together.  Get some organization going.  Can we toss out some of those things dragging us down? Make room for something new and fresh?  There have been times when I get my head clear by rearranging furniture.  Shifting entire rooms around.  Ever thought of making your dining room a cozy den?  It’s like putting a blue streak in your blonde hair.  Nothing to get too excited about.  It’s not permanent.  Yes, I’ve put a blue streak in my hair, red chunks, and a few other hair moments we won’t talk about right now.  People reacted in a myriad of ways.  Admiration.  Shock and awe. Everyone settled down after a few days.  Color fades and hair grows.  Enough said. Clearing physical clutter and rearranging furniture has a way of translating into mental clarity, direction and maybe rearranging your life.
3. Embrace life.  All of life.  Reach out to a friend.  Create something new.  Spend moments in nature.  Learn to laugh again.  Humor can be found if you are willing to play a little hide-and-seek.

Another short list of my go-to’s are:

• Sleep/Rest
• Meditate/Pray
• Breathe (Try it)
• Listen to music
• Read

We are all coaches, mentors and people of influence.  My life sometimes has an official title during a certain segment of a 24-Hour period.  Coaching doesn’t end when I punch the clock at the end of the day.  I love it.  I have this crazy thing about loving people, sharing special moments, feeling the warmth of joy spread through my being.  Today it was good to remember the fact that brokenness doesn’t have to diminish this joy.  While tears threaten and sometimes find their course along the beautiful lines of my face, something greater is waiting to make its way to the surface.  Resilience.  Strength. Hope. Joy.  They are available to you.

So, if you find yourself in one of those Broken Places today, allow yourself to feel the fullness of your beautiful soul.  Sometimes sadness and hurt are just a few steps ahead of peace and rest.

Saturday Morning Lesson

Why do all my ideas and urgings to put words to screen come in the middle of a walk with almost no ability to hit the keys running?  I submit it is because during these times my mind is free from the concerns and worries normally plaguing the connections and space inside my head.  It’s like waters being parted or fields being cleared for planting. Bit by bit, a little at a time, light enters and new energy spills over.  My heart starts to pick up the pace with joy and my internal vision becomes 20/20.  At that moment, I KNOW what I want to write and sentences begin to tumble out.  My brain begins to tell my feet to get moving before the words are lost forever.  I am so confident of their value I cannot wait to sit down and begin.

What is so vitally important, you might be wondering right now.  Do I have you sitting on the edge of your proverbial seat?  Are you waiting for a word of wisdom that surpasses what has been handed down by sages from the ancient past?

Here are my words for you today:  Be cautious when sniffing out something new and big.  Before you call and report the possibility of a new recreational activity on my part, no, I have not taken up said activity.  Also, remember, I am sitting at my computer so I didn’t get myself into any trouble.  The emergency room is across town, free from my presence (although I have been known to work from a hospital bed).  Be curious.  Read on.

This was a glorious morning for a walk before the Southern heat and humidity decides to permeate its residents and suck the life out of every living soul not within the comforts of an air conditioning unit actually doing its job to make the inhabitants comfortable. Today I decided to listen to one of my favorite (and I mean FAVORITE in all caps) podcasts.  Magic Lessons, by Elizabeth Gilbert.  You know, I’ve talked about her influence before.  I digress.  Roxy, my precious and perky companion is in her glory as well.  Ears pointed, eyes alert, tail waving like a flag on the 4th of July.  She is so ecstatic when we walk.  I believe she takes four times as many steps as necessary because she zigs and zags, crossing every which-way possible on any given path.  If I followed her short little legs, I’m sure I would walk at least twice as many miles as my human legs carry me.

There we were, two beautiful and brilliant girls enjoying our morning ritual.  See it coming?  Around the bend comes another walker with two of the most humongous dogs on earth.  They spot my little pup and start lunging, leaping and pulling on those leashes, I begin to wonder if their owner will be able to handle them and keep them from flying across the road, becoming our new and quite unexpected acquaintances.  Roxy thinks she wants to cross the “Great Divide” as well and make their morning social encounter memorable.  We both manage to keep the pavement between us, shout out a “Good Morning,” and stick to our pre-determined paths.

It was when Roxy and I started the return trip, after making our way through another neighborhood, the unexpected happened.  We rounded the corner and found ourselves on the SAME side of the street with the mighty beasts.  They were (and are) magnificent. Stunning and frightening at the same time.  They could each take a bite out of Roxy, finish her off, enjoying a snack before consuming their real breakfast.  What to do?  I shout out above the din, “She’s quite friendly!”  To which I hear, “They are too!  They’d love to meet her!” Since we were almost within a handshake anyway, Roxy and I approach.  I learn they are Old English Sheepdogs and I am happy report, Roxy responded with absolute subjectivity as she bowed down before them in the grass, treating them with the respect royalty commands.

From the moment I met Roxy at the shelter, I learned she was always overwhelmed by large dogs.  They had to keep her separated from the noise and din of the shelter. Sometimes her enthusiasm for meeting new friends overwhelms the other dogs and you never quite know what the outcome will be.  We’ve had very few, and I mean very few negative outcomes.  Less than the number of fingers on one hand.  As an educated dog owner, you also never want to take any unnecessary risks and realize the unexpected can always happen.  I’m always a bit cautious.

This morning was no different.  When she threw herself at their feet, sniffing commenced from all three parties.  (Owners never need to sniff each other out in the literal sense.)  Remember my earlier words?  Be cautious when sniffing out something new and big?  Out of all the parties involved, I believe I was at DEFCON 5, on high alert. The usual order of events goes something like this:  Roxy submits, allowing any other dog to be the alpha.  Tails eventually wag and playtime begins.  Tangled leashes sometimes occur and owners agree how fun it would be to watch our pets loose in a backyard playing tag.  This morning the outcome was a bit different.  Roxy did not act like she wanted to play with her new friends.  She allowed herself to be checked out, performed her own cursory whiff but was ready to high-tail it out of there as quickly as possible. That was the moment my brain began to churn about what I just observed and how could that apply to my human life.  (No, I’m not going to write a book on lessons I’ve learned my from dog.  At least not today.)

Alertness.  Caution.  Response.  Curiosity.  Exploration.  Discernment.  Which of these words appeal to your eyes, ears and heart?  Being blessed with an insatiable curiosity and willingness to explore and try new things, accompanied by an innocence and gullibility refusing to learn to be jaded, I bound across “Great Divides” on a fairly regular basis.  My mother used to have a favorite saying for me, “God looks out for fools and idiots and in your case, you’re covered twice.”  She said it in the most loving tone, so I was never offended by their utterance.  Actually, often times she spoke them after some event in which I managed to get myself entangled and in need of extrication.  My children, on the other hand, experience the other side of the equation:  alertness, caution and discernment.  I have a sneaky suspicion they wish I displayed a bit more of the flip side where they are concerned.

What is my take away from this morning?  What great lesson did I learn from a short 30 minute walk, including a less than five minute encounter?  Sometimes it’s perfectly and amazingly wonderful to jump across the chasm, discovering possibilities and meeting new people.  Life becomes colorful.  The vistas of the world breathtaking.  I just need to remember to take along my “Sniffer.”  Pause for a moment, ever so brief, and take a little cautious whiff.  Decide whether to partake or skedaddle out of there.  I’m not sure what today holds for me.  Divine protection is always needed.

Have a remarkable Saturday.  Be willing to cross the street.  Be wise in determining how to proceed.  Whatever you do, love the fact you are alive and breathing today.  Make something big happen.  Big is in the eye of the creator.  Enjoy your walk.