Absolution

It is natural to be nostalgic this time of year.  We look back over the events of the past 12 months and make judgements of our experiences - our "year-in-review."  While I see and feel the value in assessing our actions, decisions and results, I have found it can be a way for me to avoid, sabotage, punish and stifle.  Even looking back with fondness can be a way to evade the present by indulging the past.  To quote the Little River Band, "Oh the time we're missing, spending the hours reminiscing."

So I am working today on gleaning the lessons, knowledge and realizations from this past year - enjoying the recollection of fun, heartwarming and gratifying times, and letting go.  If I cling to experiences, whether it be from guilt, remorse or pleasure, I am weighing myself down and lessening my capacity for new experiences.  I cannot be open to receiving all that life has to offer, if I show up with my hands already filled with the gifts of the past.

I am grateful for this past year.  It has been a year of challenge, change, growth, sorrow, love, fun and discovery.  I have had experiences and relationships I wouldn't change for the world.  I have made choices that have caused myself and others pain, and I have shared my gifts in ways that have inspired and uplifted as well.  I am grateful for it all.  But mostly, I am grateful to give myself the gift of absolution.  It is a clean slate, a brand new day.  My arms are empty and wide-open, as is my heart.  I am ready to rock 2012!

Comfortably numb

The past twenty four hours have been challenging and revelatory.  I have discovered just how numb I have become to being deceptive with myself and others.  How I have stuffed, withheld, and denied feelings that were uncomfortable or that I had predetermined to be bad - feelings that might be hurtful, upsetting, disappointing to or unpopular with others.

I have been so focussed on being grateful and compassionate that I have shunned any emotion that I thought might conflict with that part of me.  I have forced myself to swallow anger and find compassion for whoever I was angry with, telling myself the story of being the compassionate and giving woman.  What I ended up doing was lying to myself and others, feeding an undercurrent of resentment that showed up in unhealthy ways, and losing my sense of self.  I would struggle with why my relationships aren't working and find reasons to doubt myself and my truth, the truth I had become desensitized to.

I AM a compassionate and giving woman.  I am also a woman who can be petty and small and angry and hurt and uncaring.  I CAN find compassion for the one who hurts, angers, ignores or upsets me, but from now on it will be after I express my truth and find compassion for myself.  I am learning to stand up for myself, to stand in my truth.  I am ready to work at being honest with myself and others, even when it looks like expressing something ugly or unpopular . . . even when it means me being wrong . . . even at the risk of losing favor or love.

I am ready to become uncomfortably vulnerable.

More

I have many teachers in my life right now, from those who live deeply, to those who simply survive daily life.  I am finding, through observing these teachers, and from my own experience, that the more one enjoys life, the more they tend to suffer.  The deeper I love, the deeper I hurt.  It is the bad news, but it is also the good news.

I am learning that by openly embracing what pain may enter my heart, I am able to know myself and the world around me better.  If I can resist the urge to seek comfort, and the urge to argue with the reality of suffering, I can find the beauty that is inherent in it.  It is, in itself, an incredible teacher.  When I am able to accept it and encompass it, I can see where my ego creates the misery.  And when I can step outside my ego to find compassion for the sufferer, I find what I truly desire, which can always be reduced to love and self-acceptance.  Anguish and heartbreak can become gateways to deepened living, greater compassion and understanding, and expanded love.

I am hoping to improve my ability to welcome the pain and suffering I experience, and to be grateful for the gifts they bring.  What I know is that I intend to live from the space of "more."  I will listen more, laugh more, feel more, enjoy more, be more and love more . . . and yes, suffer more. What a beautiful thing.  I wish you more.

Miracle on Highway 89

I have always loved Christmas.  It has felt magical to me since I was a child.  I am one who still believes in Santa Claus - the myth, yes, but more so the ideology.  It is a time of year that society has allowed love and giving to become a focus.  I am still hoping and working toward a world where love, giving and gratitude are the focus all year.  I am starting with me.

This Christmas was different than any Christmas before it.  My holiday plans were interrupted, and on Christmas Eve I found myself at my parents house keeping a vigil in the living room as my father struggled to stay on this earth in the other room.  None of us thought he would make it through the night.  At 3:30 in the morning his breathing became less labored and he was able to sleep.  When he woke up a few hours later, he was remarkably better.  His blood pressure had gone from 52/38 to 80/62.  For us, it seemed to be a miracle.

I sat with my father and talked about football, the ranch, horses and Christmas memories. Conversation and connection that no amount of money could buy and nothing material could compare to.  Eventually my entire family was there at the ranch.  The first time all of us had been in the same room in years.  Loving, laughing and relating.  That was my Christmas miracle.

Letting go of what I had expected Christmas to look like, and embracing the Christmas that showed up was a beautiful thing for me.  I am in such gratitude for it all.  I am grateful for my father.  I am grateful that he brought our family together in the most divine way.  I am grateful for this prompting of what truly is important in life - love, giving and gratitude.  I am blessed beyond belief with amazing people in my life.  It is my intention to carry the gratitude and love I feel for them all in this moment always in my heart, and to act, speak and write from that space.

May the season of miracles touch all of you the way it has touched me.  Much love.

Believe

I recently spent the day with a young man who claims to believe there is no God, no higher power, no engineer of intelligent life.  I listened to his theory and beliefs as we discussed many topics.  He is not, as I would have expected, angry or rebellious, or even depressed and disillusioned or fatalistic.  He has a very scientific mind and looks at things through the lens of facts and figures, not faith and hope.  He is open and authentic.

He is a well-spoken young man, and puts forethought into his answers and assertions.  He is engaging and wise.  I found myself totally enraptured by the divine attributes he so genuinely embodied.  Here was this youthful philosopher speaking his truth and earnestly integrating my questions and his answers.  For him, this conversation was simply that, a chat about spiritual realities and how they differ from person to person.  For me, it was validation of my belief in a higher power.

Where this young man feels we were "an accident" which arose from the primordial ooze of the Big Bang, I am at a loss for exactly how any of us came to be here.  But listening to him convey his beliefs, I was captivated by the inquisitive soul in him that yearned to find answers.  I can't imagine that that longing came from a cosmological catastrophe.  The light in his eyes when our conversation turned to writing is beyond whatever physiological matter makes up his anatomy.  His passion, his intelligence, his curiosity . . . simply divine.

There is divinity in everything.  I am awestruck when I stop to notice it.  I am grateful for my belief in a higher power.  I am grateful for differing beliefs and those who are willing to express them.  I am grateful for the heavenliness of it all.

The Season of giving

I have never quite understood those individuals who dislike the holidays.  I comprehend a great many of their complaints . . . over commercialism, business, hectic schedule, family pressure, religious differences . . . but whether or not to embrace a reason to celebrate the finest qualities we have as human beings, that seems to be a no-brainer to me.

Christmas is whatever it is in your heart, in your mind.  No one can make it anything else for you.
For me, Christmas is a time to celebrate out loud how I feel about life.  To express through gifts, sharing, singing, food, laughter, dancing . . . how much I love and appreciate the abundance I enjoy.  It is a time to convey gratitude and kindness, to love from the most compassionate part of my soul.

My challenge to everyone, myself included, is to stop and breathe and, for a moment, set aside the schedule, the commotion, the to-do lists and have tos.  Breathe in the sweet kindness that dwells in each of us.  Breathe in the giving, compassionate heart the beats in your chest.  Breathe in the wave of tenderness and tolerance that lies just below the hustle and bustle around you.  We find what we are looking for in this world.  Look for the goodness, the charity, the kindness.  What is this season to you? Make it just that . . .

Back in Black

So, yesterday I began this "post" and was summoned away from my writing to attend to some family business.  The post ended up publishing, so I removed it when I got home to finish it.  But it seems to have permanently vanished.  Basically it was just my statement that it was time for me to come clean.  Here goes.

The last few years of my journey here on this Earth have been interesting, exciting, intense.  I have been working on my spirituality for the past ten years, after finally discovering the being spiritual does not necessarily involve religion.  I have been blessed with amazing teachers along my path, and have some of the greatest teachers in my life right now.  I am humbled and grateful for this.  And it is through these teachers, that I am learning who I truly am.  The best way to start learning that, is to learn first what I am not.

I am not all things to all people.  I apologize for ever thinking I could be, and for taking on such a monumental task for which I blamed my failures often on those I disappointed.

I am not the best person for every job.  I convinced myself and sometimes those I love that I am, and then couldn't believe it when I would fail.

I am not the strongest, toughest, smartest or nicest person in the world, but I wanted you to think that.

I am not the answer to your prayers or the person that is going to make your life better or easier.  I thought I had to be to make a difference, and trying just added up to more disappointment.

I am not always positive and loving.  When you ask how I am, I often lie - I haven't trusted you or myself enough to say anything but "super fantastic," or the like.

I am not the person that is going to show up for lunch, coffee, or whatever at least half the time.  I over promise and under deliver.

I have let down every person on this earth that has ever mattered to me.  That's the bad news.  The good news is, now I know.  I have finally taken that ride all the way to the bottom, and I can see where I trip myself up.  I want to apologize for the disappointment.  The best way to do that is to get up, dust myself off, step back up to the plate and keep my eye on the ball.  Now I know who I am.

I am a woman who is truly filled with love and gratitude.  I feel deeply, I love completely and I share emphatically.  It is who I am.

I am a woman who has met her belief that she needs to be loved, and found that peace can be found in the gratitude of loving without  want of return.

I am a woman who is learning to trust herself and is building a reputation of integrity.  I will be the woman who promises what she is capable of delivering.

I am many things, but more than anything, I am sincerely grateful.  I am grateful for every joyous second, and every painful hour.  I am grateful for the depth of my emotions, the indefatigable love I have, and for the fervent desire for connection that drives me.

Thanks for letting me clear the air.  Deep breath in . . .

Down the rabbit hole

I love books, stories, poems, plays, tales, yarns . . . I love reading.  I also love art.  All of it.  If someone creates something that is an expression of themselves and calls it art, I am going to love it.  Maybe not love it in the sense that I would buy it and display it in my home, but love it in the sense that I appreciate the creative force that dwells in us all, and specifically in those that are passionate about expressing it.

The above being true, I have been captivated by and drawn to authors and artists who suffer, and whose suffering is the driving force behind their creative endeavors.  I have long imagined what it must feel like to dance on the edge of sanity like Plath; or be almost immobilized by the desperate need of love from another like Van Gogh; to drown shame and self-loathing in alcohol like Poe . . .  I have wanted to know these struggles, these feelings, and yet I have held myself back from that very thing.

Gratitude, love and positive thinking have been incredible tools to assist me through navigating frightening terrain, and I will continue to rely on them in the future.  But I am really feeling called to fall down the rabbit hole.  I trust this Universe.  I trust myself.  I would be lying if I said I were in any way prepared  or unafraid.

Yesterday I realized that it always comes down to doing the most loving thing for me.  I feel, in this moment, that the most loving thing for me is to go through whatever it s that is waiting for me.  As Peter Gabriel says, "Got to get in to get out."

Peace and love.  See you when I get out!

Fear Factor

For the record, I am very conflicted over reality tv.  I have never been a fan of Survivor, The Bachelor or Project Runway.  I would not even think of watching something like Hoarders, Intervention or Fear Factor.  And yet, I set my dvr to record Dancing With the Stars, So You Think You Can Dance, The Voice, Sing-off, and yes, American Idol.

Wow, that confession just took a huge weight from my shoulders.  There.  Now you know.  So, while I am confessing, I have another disclosure to make.  For the past several days, I have been living in my own version of the Fear Factor.  There were no snakes, worms, cows blood or catapulting.  My Fear Factor simply involved fear.

I stepped (or slipped or fell) out of gratitude, out of a space of trusting the Universe, trusting life, trusting me.  And I learned that once I step out of thankfulness, it can be a very swift descent into fear.  Every change in my physical body became something to panic about.  I found myself torn between reaching out and connecting with people I love or becoming reclusive.  I doubted every thought.  I questioned every statement.  I cursed every element of my life.  I got angry.  I became indignant and resentful.

For a moment, I questioned whether I could recover from the tailspin I was in.  And then a five year-old lovingly and unknowingly brought my attention to the fact that every moment is a choice between love and fear.  Every moment.  "What is the most loving thing for me?"  If I allow myself to be guided by that question and the honest answers that come, I will always be peaceful.

Bodies get older and fail, relationships have hiccups, goals are not always reached, pain is felt . . . but when met with love, they can be some of our greatest moments.  I am grateful for my fall from grace.  It is, if nothing else, a fabulous reminder to me of the power of gratitude and importance of trust.

"I trust my soul, my only goal is to be.  There's only now, there's only here.  Give in to love or live in fear.  No other path, no other way.  No day but today." - Jonathon Larson (from Rent)

Things left unsaid

I'm sorry.
You hurt me.
I was wrong.
I love you.
I don't love you.
I never loved you.
I am in love with you.
I have always loved you.
I lied.
I was mean and vindictive.
I was stubborn.
You were cruel.
I don't want you to go.
I need you to leave.
What will it take?
I don't know.
Stop!
I can't give you what you want.
Please stay.
I could use a friend right now.
If you don't love me, please say so.
Forgive me.
I forgive you.
Trust me.
I trust you.
I love you.
Love me.

The list could go on and on.  Words that spring from raw emotion that want to be heard and felt.  Words that are left pendulous in our mouths, so close to freedom, but are withheld.  Words that remain in our heads are but specters of thought that can grow into disruptive and destructive stories we use to scare ourselves.  They become excuses we use to keep us stagnant and insignificant.  Things left unsaid have the potential of leading to lives that are left unrealized, relationships that are left toxic, and love that is left unfulfilled.  Say what you need to say.

Reclamation

I have been Scrooged this week.  I have watched three cinematic versions of Dickens' A Christmas Carol, and two stage plays of it as well.  All five viewings were quite enjoyable!  I still prefer to read the book to get the real feel of the story, but that will be another week.

One scene, one small exchange of dialogue, stood out for me this week.  Scrooge asks The Ghost of Christmas Past what her business is here.  The Ghost responds with, "your welfare."  Scrooge is surprised.  "My welfare?" The Ghost says, "Your reclamation, then.  Take heed, rise and walk with me."

Reclamation is in interesting word choice.  Reclamation is the process of reclaiming something from loss or from a less useful condition.  Is Scrooge reclaiming his lost innocence?  Lost compassion?  Lost goodwill and charity?  Or is he reclaiming his soul from a less useful condition?

That question got me to wondering how it is we lose things like faith, hope, charity, good will, compassion and the like.  "Last time I remember using it, I was in the kitchen.  Now . . . where did I put that?" I didn't lose it.  I may have lost sight of it, but I didn't lose it.

We make conscious choices in every moment of how we respond to the circumstances we find ourselves in, and the needs we see in others around us.  The problem is found in the word "conscious." That is what leads to Scrooge's reclamation.  He had become unconscious in his life, focused on matters of the ego, not the heart.  Like many of us.  He was able to reclaim his soul from the less useful condition of unaware, and become a warm, compassionate, cognizant being.

And I am starting to think that it is just that simple.  We wake up.  We become aware and purposeful, and we consider the ramifications of our actions and choices.  We look beyond our daily survival, our intrinsic needs, and see the bigger picture.  Set our egos aside and step into our hearts.  There is no need for any of us to be visited by holiday spirits and dead coworkers . . . Just wake up.  "Take heed, rise and walk with me."

The long way home

I think it is human nature to establish routines.  We drive to work, school, the grocery store, our friends houses, etc., and we drive home.  We have routine routes we take . . .  most of us.  We get so used to the drive - the scenery, the road, traffic patters - that we tend to check out.  I've gotten off the freeway on my exit before thinking "how did I miss from Pleasant Grove to Springville?"

Routines can be great things, especially for learning, and for efficiency.  But routines can be devastating to our being present in the moment.  I have gotten into the habit going Supertramp and taking the long way home.  Noticing different places, different faces and finding different pot holes. It is a great way to stay connected to the here and now.

Inside out

I believe there are angels, both figuratively and literally, among us.  I feel I am not alone in that belief.  I believe these angels sometimes take over the "shuffle" control on my Ipod for their own amusement.  I feel insecure about possibly being alone in that belief.  But, how else do you explain Pearls On a Chain by Olivia Newton John followed by Dialectic Chaos by Megadeth?

I got in my car the other day after a fairly gut-wrenching experience, and Phil Collins greeted me with the song Inside Out.  A few miles, a few tissues and a few songs down the road and Inside Out by Eve 6 came on.  Interesting.  That one got repeated because it is my favorite song in the world to sing along with (loudly and badly.)  After a Heart song (yay) and a quickly skipped Jonas Brothers song (don't judge me, my nephew downloaded it,) Inside Out by by Sara Bareilles came on.  I was definitely paying attention now.

Was I inside out?  What does it mean to be inside out?  Feeling discombobulated and dejected could be described as inside out-ish.  But I was interested in the lesson that would come from the message of inside out.  Then, in one of those instances of incredible timing, I rearranged the last sentence in my head to "lesson that would come from inside out," (complete with the aha visual of a lightbulb above my head) right as Sara belts "I'll give my love from the inside out, from the inside out."

I have been working that one for the last couple of days.  Asking myself what were the "gut-wrenching" parts of the experience, finding and questioning the thoughts behind them, and then settling into the lesson.  If I approach every relationship with arms and heart wide-open, I have the best opportunity to connect and share.  If a wide-open heart is met with hostility, pain, confusion, resentment, sadness . . . if I love from the inside out, it will not matter.  If I love from the inside out, I am not seeking the love or affection of another, I am sharing the love I create.  If I am loving from the outside in, I might as well put my "tender heart in a blender and watch it spin around to a beautiful oblivion."  Something I considered doing the last time a Jonas Brothers song came on.

Random poetry day

So, yesterday's post about getting happy was pretty vulnerable for me.  I am working on being all of who I am (not just the fun, comfortable parts.) Sticking with the "vulnerable and growing" theme, I created a stretch for myself.  I snagged a couple of poems out of a notebook and thought I would share with anyone who cares to read them.  Don't be expecting Whitman or Plath . . . probably a lot more along the lines of Rowan and Martin.  Anyway, enjoy!  Worst case scenario is you waste three minutes of your life you can never get back but you have something to tease me about at dinner parties.


Unsheltered

The weight of the world has fallen, however briefly,
from these weary shoulders
It lay at my feet like the golden-orange leaves of the attenuated oak
I feel young, emancipated and . . . unusually exposed
My gut reaction is to bend down and pick up the fragments that surround me
Comfort found in the familiar
But I step through and walk forward, completely vulnerable



Say Anything

An open door, a flat affect

subtleties exchanged and aspirations are invisibly deflated

your voice is cold, words are rushed, eyes darting

I say nothing of consequence

words fall away

Left with silence, I feel the weight you carry

the encumbrance you cling to in your tacit world

I would bear it if I could

And though I know I can say anything now

I will simply say "I love you"

First Light

It brings with it the sounds of morning birds

they sing of redemption

they hint of opportunity

They lovingly remind me that I am at choice

I have been given this day

as a beautiful gift

wrapped in golden rays that, in this moment, rise to greet me

I am filled with gratitude and wonder!

What will I choose?

What will this gift, opening before me, hold?

Get Happy

I often get asked if I am “always this happy.”  Some people even make blanket (and most likely true) statements like “nobody can be that happy all the time.”  I’m not, and I can’t.  I am, however, joyful most of the time.  My internal “joyful” does not always translate as an outward expression of “happy.”  We will get to that in a minute.

My desire to "get happy" goes back to the MGM musicals I used to watch on the Big Money Movie with Bernie Calderwood in the formative years of my youth.  The good guys always won, the guy always got the girl, the show always went on, the day was always saved and everyone came out happy.  I will never forget the first time I saw the closing number from Summer Stock, where Judy Garland (in a hat and smoking jacket) implores us all to "shout hallelujah come on get happy!"  Find a lamp post, a wall, a staircase, a hat rack . . . and dance and sing and be happy!  Even in the rain.

For years I thought if I worked at staying happy, then life would be one big Busby Berkeley production number.  I became an actor, and a very good one.  People like being around happy people, I noticed.  I was the life of the party on the outside, but drowning in insecurities and confusion on the inside.  My acting became more akin to selling my soul. I will do your bidding if you will like me.  I will be anything you want me to be for your validation.  

Not a path I would recommend if you are looking for joy, but I happened to find it there.  I learned a lot of painful and powerful lessons, and I have no regrets.  Perhaps it was the only path for me to get to this moment.  Maybe I had to find my demon to see my divine. Perhaps the only way for me to find my compassion was through prostituting myself for approval.  

Through it all, I found that, while I might not always be happy, I can be joyful in the midst of struggle, hardship, poor health and even grief.  And I learned that the outward "happy" has much more to do with the inward peace I feel than anything else. 

I still watch old musicals and imagine myself as Esther Williams, and I still work at staying happy . . . but not for anyone else.  I like being around happy people, I noticed.  

Here's your one chance Fancy . . .

Those of you who don't connect with the title of this post - you are young and of good repute. Those of you quietly humming along with Reba in your head are older and have questionable taste in music.  And, frankly, this post has nothing to do with any of that.

We hosted a family holiday dinner party last night.  A party that we have known we were going to host for five years.  We attending four such dinner parties, each at a different siblings house, over the past four years.  This party has been in the back of my mind for five years, kept company by my training plan for swimming the channel, a few recipes, my questioning of the Mayan calendar and a patent idea for a pineapple slicer.  So, there in the back of my mind, it became a challenge . . . a summons to dream big, go bold, be fancy!

I planned.  I made lists.  I went shopping.  We planned.  We decorated.  We planned more.  We shopped more.  I made slide shows (I heard that.)  We planned even more.  And the day started off with a "curve ball" at 4:06 am.  And the hits just kept coming.  By about 9:00, I had found out that Anne Burrell was booted from the Next Iron Chef.  (Are you kidding me?!?) And the day of party preparation went the way of Chef Burrell, and I didn't see it coming.

The party we ended up having looked very little like it had looked in my mind for five years.  It could have gone a couple of ways . . . I could have fallen apart, like my plans, and agonized over the missing place cards, last minute menu changes, etc.; or I could trust that it was perfect the way it was happening and focus on what mattered.  When it comes down to it, no party is about the rolls (okay, some parties are,) or the place cards.  Parties are about the feeling, the connection, the sharing.  People figured out where to sit and the rolls were mostly edible . . .  not fancy . . .  perfect.

I absolutely LOVE that the Universe is lining up so many perfect scenarios for me to truly experience what it means to live in the moment.  The lesson of losing attachment to outcome has been playing out in the most beautiful ways.  When I trust - myself, the Universe, my support system - I am safe.  I have and feel the love and energetic support of my family and friends always.  It is a beautiful life, and I am a blessed woman.

Gnawing at bones

"Do what you love.  Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw at it still." - Henry David Thoreau

We are all born with gifts, talents, tastes, preferences, inclinations, tendencies, quirks, dreams and passions.  Some of us are fortunate to have these things recognized, respected and even encouraged by the adults and authority figures in our lives.  But even then, once enmeshed in the logic, common sense and conformity of mainstream society, it is not a priority or cause that is championed, to follow ones' heart and do what one loves.  We are persuaded to get a respectable job, prodded to go for an above average salary.  We are sold on the glamor and appeal of fame, power, money and possessions.  Our gifts, talents and dreams become "hobbies" at best, and are put off until later in life when we have more time.

I've said it before and I will say it again, the time we know we have is now.  I have spent so much time trying to measure up to my projection of someone else's standards.  Is my mother happy with the way I am living my life?  Is my father proud of me?  Does my brother respect me?  Does my high school English teacher think I succeeded as a writer?  Does my neighbor like the placement of my trash bin on Mondays?  Couple things here - first, it is quite egocentric of me to think any of these people spend time considering those matters.  Second, and most importantly, "what they think of me is none of my business."(Terry Cole-Whittaker)  "Stop the insanity!" (Never thought I'd squeeze in a Susan Powter quote.)

I am getting to know my own bone.  I have gnawed a few that didn't taste as good as I had hoped, but it beats trying to guess what others want from me and then endeavoring to give it to them.  I am grateful for the lessons my people-pleasing ways have brought me.  And, I am grateful to be moving toward the lessons my gifts and passions have on tap for me. 


My dream is to live in a world that looks like the all-you-can-eat rib night at Golden Corral - bones piled on plates, elbows on the tables and sauce dripping from chins.  Thoreau was a brilliant man.  Follow his advice and gnaw at a bone or two.  

He also said the following: "Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with a song still in them."  When you find your bone . . . sing about it!

Finding Joy

Follow your bliss.  Find joy.  Seems like very easy to follow sound advice.  However, it does not feel at all easy to follow when you are standing on the edge of an unnerving precipice or finding yourself firmly at rock bottom.  These are the times when I am most frantically searching for answers to the "big questions."  Find joy, so often is the answer I receive.  What does it mean to find joy?  If it were as simple as finding pleasure in the moment, how could I possibly find myself lost or alone ever?  And yet, I do.

The most recent time I found myself contemplating the question "what now" and it's resounding answer "find joy," I learned a great deal about the question, the answer and the person asking and answering.  I sat with my metaphoric feet dangling from the edge of a terrifying chasm . . . a fissure that lay ominously between reality and my attachment to having myself and my life look a certain way.  I realized that it was only me and my belief that things should be different than they are.  If I could, even for a moment, set that belief aside, I could see more clearly.

Breathing into the reality of any moment always brings clarity.  And so, I breathed in what was . . . what is . . . and I found that the rocky ledge I stood upon was where my greatest joy was waiting, not on a distant projection I could only hope to reach.  To start with gratitude and find joy in asking "am I enough?," to find elation in having the trials that bring that question to my lips . . . that is following my bliss.  That is finding joy.

Slow ride

I have been making myself (and those around me) pretty crazy by arguing with reality.  I think I should have more energy and be less tired.  As my good friend would ask, "how do you know that you should be tired?  You are!"  It is the way of it, at least for now.

So, I am putting my efforts into embracing what is and not only taking naps and slowing down, but working on really finding joy and peace in it.  It means finding and questioning old beliefs.  Beliefs like "taking naps means you are lazy."  And, "if I am not crossing things off of a to-do list, I am not contributing."  I had no idea how deeply engrained these beliefs were until I investigated them.

What I am learning is that being busy does not equate being useful, and being still does not equate being worthless.  I am finding that there is much to see and hear in the silence that waits for me to notice when I am able to quiet the critic and sink into awareness.  I am realizing that love and gratitude can be created and shared from any space at any time.  I'm learning that the things I think are so urgent in life, can wait.

So, with dishes in the sink and laundry waiting to be folded, I will take a nap.  And, when I wake up I might put on a Bonnie Raitt cd and take a slow ride . . . being sure to notice how much there is to see, hear, touch, love and learn in the quiet spaces between thought and action.

For good

I was listening to a beautiful song from the amazing Broadway musical Wicked.  I was overwhelmed with emotion and flooded with images of people who have changed my life - have changed me - for good.  I drove down the freeway - music blaring, tears streaming - singing at the top of my lungs and feeling more gratitude than I knew what to do with.  (Quite a sight, a 48 year-old woman cruising down the freeway singing and bawling in a Ford Explorer with the plates HPYSNPY.)

I got home and began writing thank you notes to people who have had an impact on my life.  I quickly realized I could quite possibly be writing thank you notes for a very long time.  I believe that everyone we meet has the potential to influence our lives, and so many amazing people have had a transformative effect on mine.  As I stated before, the gratitude for these people and their profound influence was overwhelming.  How can I possibly express this gratitude to each person?

This question hung ominously over my heart as I felt, for a moment, that I might be unable to convey the love, compassion, and appreciation I have for so many incredible souls.  Then I came back to the lyrics.  "Because I knew you, I have been changed for good."  My living and moving forward in life as the person I am - knowing that much of it is what I have learned from you - is the best way for me to express my love and gratitude.  To be and live as the best version of myself, and to remember that - like a stream that meets a boulder - my actions, words, caring, etc., have an impact as well.

To those of you who have changed me "for good," thank you.  I do believe I have been changed for the better . . .

Closer to the heart

"And the men who hold high places, must be the ones who start, to mold a new reality, closer to the heart.  The blacksmith and the artist, reflected in their art, forge their creativity closer to the heart."  Neil Peart

I believe that each one of us can work to live closer to our hearts.  I think it is as simple (and as challenging) as paying close attention to our words.  Words have such power, not only when spoken or written, but when they are withheld and unexpressed.

Words are tools.  And like most tools, used improperly or without consideration, they can become dangerous and even destructive.  They can be used as weapons and raised in defense.  What could our world, our reality be if we all honed our skills with these tools and used them to build and connect?  Living closer to our hearts?

For me, I will spend today in my heart and be cognizant of the words I choose and how I choose to express them.

Reality check

I AM DYING . . .



. . . to tell you something . . .



YOU ARE DYING.


We are mortal beings, certain of very little in this life we have here on Earth.  Death is certain.  And, we are all moving toward it.  Only always.  A few of us have been given an amazing gift - we have acquired diseases, conditions or circumstances that have brought with them an acute awareness of our mortality and the fragile and unpredictable nature of life itself.

How fortunate that I have an opportunity to live like I am dying?  To write a bucket list, not to stick it in a drawer for "later," but to do and check off amazing things from it with enthusiastic and supportive friends?  How blessed that I have a daily reminder to speak my truth?  To let people know how I feel?  To listen?  To love?  To look for and find the divine in myself and everyone around me?  To do my best every day to reflect back the divine I see, the beauty I find, the love I feel?  To attempt things that intrigue me?  To face things that scare me?  To push myself to do, learn, be, laugh, express, try, listen and love more?  Death is not nearly as frightening as failing to live.



This moment . . . right now . . . this day . . . is what you know you have.  It is all any one of us has.  What  are you feeling in this moment?  What are you grateful for?  Do yourself a favor and share your answers with someone you love.  Get your bucket list out or start one and get about the business of crossing things off.  Live!  Live like you are dying . . . you are.

Black Friday

I love holidays.  What is a holiday, other than a regular day that we (as a society or parts of a society) have agreed (mostly) to celebrate as special for a specific reason? And why not find something . . . like gratitude, veterans, independence, trees, the Irish, flags, important people in history, etc . . . to celebrate and make special? I think it's fabulous!

I understand that not everyone loves holidays.  Some people become grumpy, others greedy, and some suffer stress and anxiety.  I hear complaints of commercialism and religious discrimination.  There are grievances by some of time spent with difficult family members. I do not mean to be uncaring or disrespectful, but let go of all of that and find something, anything about it to celebrate.  Don't like tradition?  Buck it!  Don't like family obligation?  Duck it!  Don't like your shirt tale out? Tuck it!  . . . I can see this is heading in a bad direction.

Okay, as I was saying . . . holidays are simply great excuses to be loving and joyful, to spend time with people you love and enjoy this journey we are all on together.  If someone else's idea of holiday doesn't work for you, create your own new ideas and traditions.  Celebrate everything in life that makes you happy and express the things that help you find peace and joy.

For some folks, today is a holiday . . . Black Friday.  Official kick off of holiday shopping, fabulous sales, huge unruly crowds of coupon wielding women, bumps bruises and expletives . . . but for me, Black Friday is perhaps the best of all holidays.  It is the day I revel in my gratitude hangover, eat the best leftovers in the world, laugh with people I love and find everything I want to celebrate throughout the looming holiday season.  And, the day is even named appropriately (though I like to call it Ange Friday.)

Happy holidays!

The art of listening

I have always been fascinated by art, in all its' forms, and enamored by those who can master any part of it.  I have tried my hand at most artistic pursuits and find that I am best tailored for the art of admiring art.  Most of my artistic endeavors ended badly.  (My father might disagree.  He has a gorgeous ashtray that is supposed to look like an elk on a mountain that I made him in 3rd grade.)

Recently I have learned a lot about the way I listen . . . or often, don't listen.  I am practicing listening without jumping ahead in my mind to where I think they are going or what they might say.  I am practicing really hearing the words and feeling the emotion behind them without thinking of my next question, comment or clever reply.  It is sobering to realize how much conversation and connection I miss by I let my thoughts get in the way.

And so, I am in heavy pursuit of claiming and nurturing the talent of listening.  Please be patient with me if we are engaged in conversation.  And, please give me an elbow to the ribcage if I start thinking my one-liners are more important than what you are saying.  I may not be a sculptor, (though my ashtray kept dad from smoking all these years,) but I have hopes that I will become a fabulous listener.

Ain't it heavy?

Recently, I have had an opportunity to take inventory of my possessions.  I have been slowly "downsizing" my stuff and things and parts for the past ten years, so I was surprised to find just how many items I still considered to be mine - owned by me.  How do we own things?  How do I own things? Why do I own things?

When you look up the word possession, you get the basic definition: "holding or occupancy, either with or without rights of ownership.  To have in one's control."  Then you run into words like acquire, acquisition, pursue, attain, obtain, retain, stash, stuff . . .   Crazy, the things we do own, want to own, and, even crazier are the things we will do to have them.  And when we have them, what does that mean?  If it simply means that the objects are under my control, is that what I really want in life?  Control?

So, my partner and I decided to truly downsize.  We gave away about 70% of our "possessions."  How many waffle irons does one need?  How many blankets?  Hopefully we won't have 40 people randomly show up at our house wanting to crash warmly on the floor and then eat waffles together in the morning.  We are no longer set-up for that scenario.

I learned through this "cleansing," that it is not just material things that I have, want, or pursue as a possession.  As I cleaned out the closets of our home, I took the opportunity to clean out the compartments of my heart . . . those that long to obtain the love and approval of others, that want to cling to those I love and hold onto the relationships I have with them.  But, just like every material thing we think is ours, we really cannot own anything.  It comes down to control.  I de-hoarded my needs and desires to control anything or anyone.

As the list of my belongings got shorter and shorter, my thinking became clearer and my spirit became lighter.  Everything I need, I already have.  Anyone need a quesadilla maker, or rather temporary control over one?

I've got your number

I've never been good at math - but I did go to Springville High School, so . . .  Anyway, I've recently been made very aware of how many numbers we deal with on a daily basis.  Phone numbers, drivers license numbers, social security numbers, personal identification numbers (and those who say PIN number can bite me,) account numbers, addresses, blood alcohol content (again, Springville High,) and the list goes on. 

Pick up a newspaper and we are inundated with statistics and facts revolving around numbers.  We keep track of our money (some of us better than, well, me,) our net worth, our debt . . . When we are healthy we might track our exercise time or weight-lifting capabilities, heartrate, blood sugar, cholesterol level . . . When we are sick, the list of numbers can be daunting.  Whether a statistic you are bucking to prove is wrong or a white count you are hoping comes down, they are still only numbers.

I am making a conscious effort to deal with fewer numbers these days.  And the numbers I am choosing to monitor are things like the number of times a sunset has moved me to tears this week, or the number of times a five year old makes me giggle.  Numbers, ultimately, only have the power we assign them.  I wish my bank would get on board with this!

Spare change

It seems to be natural for us humans to resist change. I know that I am guilty of being a creature of comfort, and change is usually accompanied by a disturbance in comfort level. When I was a kid, even changing the television station meant a change in comfort, seeing as we had to get up and walk to the set and turn the knob. I feared change as a child - and not just changing from Bonanza to The Carol Burnette Show. My Dad would tell me, "you can't stop things from changing. Things change. It's up to you if they get better or they get worse. You can put in a little effort and make them better, or you can just let them get worse on their own." Not being one to listen the first time (or second . . .) I tested his theory. He was right.

It is said that while we may fear change, we love progress. I am all for progress. In fact, I welcome progress with open arms. My heels, however, are furiously trying to dig into the comfort of what I know. So today I turn to gratitude for change in an effort to embrace it fully and see the opportunities and lessons it brings as welcome gifts and a chance for even greater comfort.

I kicked the day off by listening to David Bowie sing about Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes. And, I found a great line that rings true for me. "I watch the ripples change their size but never leave the stream of warm impermanence." Change happens . . . and that's a GOOD thing!

Glass half full

My friend used to call me Pollyanna when she wanted to get a rise out of me. Though I am not a fan of confrontation, (and will do almost anything to avoid it,) I couldn't help myself from defending my position of positivity. I would go down swinging. Every time. Without ever having the thought I might lose. Again.

My positive outlook has been challenging to maintain for the past few months. Perhaps it is the economy or the state of the world . . . perhaps I have too many Alanis Morissette songs in my iPod. Regardless of why, it has opened my eyes to how crucial it is - for me - to have a positive attitude. And I would love to extend a challenge to anyone who might stumble upon this rambling text. Take the Ange top 5 challenge. Take four people with whom you are having some sort of stress and write down what you see as their top five positive attributes. Then write what you feel your top five attributes are. For the next five days, focus on one person (of you and the other four) each day. Look at them through the lens of of their top five, not the filter of their faults, mistakes or baggage. Find something to be grateful for! I guarantee you will see positive changes in your relationships :D

I see your rose colored glasses, and I raise you a pair of ruby slippers . . .

Simply the best

I have always considered myself to be a good friend. To me, that meant available, compassionate, loving, giving and kind - and that looked like me "being there," listening, consoling, laughing, being helpful, giving gifts and expressing love and gratitude. "Friend" is a badge I have worn with honor, and "Best Friend" has been a sacrosanct appellation worn with humility and uttered with respect.

As a society, we have come to define best friend as your "go-to," the one who knows your deepest darkest secrets and the most intimate details of your life. The one who can finish your sentences and knows how to order for you in a restaurant. The one you laugh with and cry with the most. The one who walks in when everyone else walks out.

I have recently redefined what best friend means to me. A best friend is the friend who knows your soul and the morals that define you, whether they know the stories of your life or not. A best friend is the friend who tries on the burdens you struggle with before offering consolation. A best friend is the friend who stands in their truth and asks that you do the same. A best friend is the friend standing quietly beside me offering courage as I contemplate crossing the barriers of my own making, knowing they cannot cross it for me. A best friend is the friend who sets aside judgement to embrace all of who I am, not just my brilliance. A best friend is the friend who is there to help me manifest who and what I am in this world, not in the role of cheerleader or counselor, but as a soul-mate who is on the same journey. A best friend is the friend who is authentic, even when that realness might seem harsh or detrimental. A best friend is the friend who knows my weaknesses and doesn't ignore, diminish or exploit them, but accepts them as part of my life lessons. A best friend isn't, as I have always thought, the person picking me up and brushing me off when I fall - they are the friend allowing me to pick myself up, supporting me by holding the very best version of who I am in their heart with overwhelming love and compassion. Thanks besty . . .

11.11.11

People have been talking about this date for a long time . . . Many believe it is important in a global, spiritual or Universal way. I am just anxious to see what comes of a day drowning in expectations and brimming with possibilities.

My hope for today is very much like my hope for every day - that I will be conscious, connected, grounded, loving, compassionate, kind and open. That I will meet others where THEY are and see their brilliance and divinity. That I will embrace each challenge as an opportunity. That I will be quick to forgive and tenacious in loving. And, that I will find many reasons to laugh . . . loudly.

What are you hoping for today?

Only Love

I've been accused of many things (some of which I am not allowed to discuss as part of my plea agreement,) but one thing that I am guilty of - which I will never regret - is overusing the words "I love you." I understand that the more these words are uttered from my lips, the less meaning, weight or impact they might carry. But that is a risk I am willing to take. I want to leave this world having loved as deeply as I am able, and having conveyed that love to those who take up residence in my heart. I am banking on my ability to portray my love in my actions, so that when I tell you I love you, it feels like a favorite pair of shoes, a welcome bit of news or a flash of Universal truth. But regardless of the meaning, weight or impact I feel or intend, the love is all that matters in the end. I love you.

Timing

I have heard it said that everything happens not a second late nor a moment too soon . . . but rather, right on time. I would like to believe that this is true - for a couple of reasons. First, if that is true, then life as it is unfolding right now is absolutely perfect. Second, it means that procrastination is all part of the plan and not a character flaw.

I have also heard it said that timing is everything. Which is true in many circumstances . . . jokes, for instance, or dancing (or a combination of the two that we often get to see on Dancing With The Stars.) But if this is true, then it puts the perfection of reality back in question and me back in the hot seat for procrastinating.

I have also heard it said that to every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven. So I find myself questioning my sense of timing. How do I know when to act, when to withhold, when to express, when to question? Can I trust myself to know? Is that my business, or God's business? Is this a responsibility I share with the Universe?

Yes, I have heard it said that everything happens not a second late nor a moment too soon . . . but rather, right on time. I have also heard that the Liberace Museum in Vegas is a good way to spend an afternoon, so . . .

Breaking the surface

A dolphin caught in a tuna net, struggling for air, must act against instinct. Their natural propensity to surface for oxygen will only serve to ensure their entanglement in the net, to set their fate. To free themselves, they must dive deeper into the darkness, into the unknown, moving away from what they need most.

When I am able to free myself from the stagnant air my over-wrought thinking creates in the bell jar of self-pity I sometimes enclose myself in, I can follow my heart to a deeper level. It is farther from the light, unknown and even fear-inspiring, but it is where the deeper truths await discovery. It is, as I have recently experienced, where I must go in order to free myself from the entrapment of my own flawed thinking.

Once the dolphin dives into the deep, it is able to see the snare from a better perspective and can move to find free passage to the surface where life-giving oxygen and freedom await. While the deep can be intimidating, it is where I found my deepest truth. It is where I found accountability for being the creator of the net my heart was enmeshed in, and where I found the strength to reconnect with my compassion.

Surfacing for air, playing in the waves, celebrating the new-found freedom. But I know that the deep still holds many lessons . . .

Gravity

I have a love-hate relationship with gravity. I love my feet being on terra firma, the feeling of being centered and grounded that comes from that. My body from the waist up has a different opinion of gravity all together. Especially since my mid-thirties. But I find it interesting that gravity is one of the few things we, as humans, tend to accept quietly. There are not protests (that I am aware of) against gravity. It simply is what it is.

Were it not for gravity, we would be floating aimlessly and missing one of pop's greatest songs. One simple natural law that impacts absolutely everything we do. I have come to believe there is spiritual gravity as well as physical gravity. We "fall" in love, "sink" into despair, become "grounded" in faith. And discovering this, I am seeing where I fight my spiritual gravity . . . the natural inclinations of my spirit. My goal is to bring into focus my abiding truths and be consciously aware of how they are manifesting (and that they are manifesting) in the way I live out my days. If I follow the truth of my spiritual gravity, I know I will find more evidence that love is the ultimate goal . . . my ultimate reality . . . and the most profound sense of gravity.

Landslide

Yesterday, I took the advice of a wise woman . . . I took my love, and I took it down. I climbed a mountain, and I turned around . . .

I have loved the Fleetwood Mac song "Landslide" since I first heard it as a teenager while shooting hoops in my backyard. I didn't understand the song at 15, but I was drawn to it. At 48, I finally understand the song, or at least how it fits into my life.

Having recently awakened to some beautiful, painful, revealing truths about myself, I went on a journey inward. Part of me was interested in the truth and finding spiritual growth. Part of me was hoping to find reason to doubt the fairness and benevolence of the Universe. And still another part of me was hoping to see that I am as lovable as others say I am. It has been the most honest, most real and most frightening look I have taken at myself.

I made lists. Lists of needs I have. Lists of roles I play. I became determined to set each one aside, evaluate how it shows up in relationships and whether it works for me or not. I took me and my lists to the lookout point on the Squaw Peak trail and began tossing my needs and roles to the ground. Some I threw with force, while others I set down gently, taking special care. I had to be open to leaving them all there, and that was a challenging space for me to get into. But I did.

After a few hours, fast and furious writing in notebooks, lots of tears and a few really good laughs, I stood there . . . open, vulnerable, tired, real. I looked out over the valley and I asked myself "who am I without these things?" And the answer welled up in my heart, so clear. I am love. I am tender. I am inquisitive. I am compassion. I am joyful. And my heart seemed to burst with love and gratitude so powerful that I swear I could feel it filling the entire valley that lay stretched out before me. That is my landslide.

I picked up the things that are my truth and walked away from those that are not. I am sure I will, out of habit or unconscious desire, reach for the old and familiar, but I have a grateful heart that will bring me back to my snow covered hill.

I did find truth and spiritual growth. I found every reason to know and feel the fairness and benevolence of the Universe. And, I discovered that it matters not that anyone or everyone in the world finds me lovable if I fail to do so. Oh Stevie, thank you!