A January Reverb prompt -- woohoo!

One of the Reverb teams I followed during December's look back at 2013 is sending monthly prompts this year, which is a great way to check in with oneself. When you have to really think about your days and activities, patterns emerge, thoughts clarify, actions take on new importance. Thank you, Meredith, Sarah, and Kat.

This month's prompt: Routine | Have you started a new routine this January?  Is this routine different from last year?  Is it the result of a resolution or goal you're working on?  Tell us about your days.  How do they flow?  If you'd like, maybe give us a full "day in the life" or just some snippets.

Oops. Welll....I hit 'publish' when I meant to hit 'save,' so let me try to catch up!

The routine I had envisioned for myself this January got shot all to pieces when my daughter finally became ready to move out of what we have dubbed 'The Orc Nest,' the house in which she has lived with her now ex-boyfriend and paid rent (and many other bills), and which has been taken over by squatters (at the invitation of the ex, who has gone down that slippery drug and alcohol slope big time). With help from us, she found a new place to live that she can afford on her own, and generous friends of mine have helped furnish it. She is clear-eyed, ready to move in a new direction, and I am so, so grateful.

The miracles began New Year's Day when someone called here trying to find the owner of a phone found at Walmart (hers had been stolen yet again, given to some creepazoid by her ex to 'use' and then presumably to return, which he did not). The woman who found it did not want anything other than to return it to the owner, and asked only that R pay it forward. Since then, good things have happened nearly every day, and she is safely in a new place, working with two agencies to get counseling and help.

I have been involved in helping her move, getting donated items, providing transportation when necessary, and giving lots of attagirls (the same ex is responsible directly or indirectly for her car being stolen three times. Yes, three. It has not been recovered from the last theft.)

I am also trying to keep a healthy perspective which has not been easy to do because while I am so very grateful for this new direction,   I also realize the very long road ahead and possibility for regression, since we have seen this movie before. This feels different, and there is a support team in place, so I am hopeful.

So the anxiety is still there but has changed perspective, and I understand that I still must resist the urge to control any aspect of this. I still ask the angels for help. I still say constant gratitude prayers. I am humbled by the love shown to me and to her by friends. And I am determined to continue with MY life and activities as well.

So it was back to yoga this week and good intentions for tai chi, even meeting a friend at the gym, only to discover the instructor was out with a serious diagnosis. But the friend and I spent a great hour talking anyawy, and we will try again next week. But as she moves forward into her new reality, I must move forward into mine, thankful that for now I have a positive relationship with both my daughters.

I also have been acclimating a new cat into our outdoor world: he is R's outdoor cat who she knew would be better and safer here than where she had been (and she has two indoor cats who moved with her). He has been living in our shop and has bonded with me; her two other cats stayed there for about a week too while she was between the Orc nest and her new place. So now we are trying to introduce him to the outside and our four outdoor cats. The door is open today, the cats are wandering in and out, and he has come as far as the open door but no further yet.

It's one day at a time for all of us, hm. That's all we ever get anyway, this one day today. I am so grateful for it!

Reverb 13: Day 19-- Practicing compassion and quiet

1. The Buddha said, “You, yourself, as much as anybody else in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.” In the past year, I have been on a mission to understand and practice self-compassion, which is sometimes defined as "extending compassion to one's self in instances of perceived inadequacy, failure, or general suffering," and what I have learned has made me realize that this practice is at the heart of everything. 

How will you practice self-compassion?

2. Personality | Were you an extrovert or an introvert this year?  Why?  Is that normal for you?  Or a switch from previous years?

1. This is hard for me -- and, I suspect, for many. I am far, far harder on myself than anyone else could possibly be, and that little judge in my head who comments  on my shortcomings can be a big pain-in-the-ass. 

He's gotten quieter, however, and I try not to listen to his rantings, but it takes work. One way I learned to practice self-compassion this year is by looking into a mirror and focusing on my left eye, and saying, "I love you, Beth..." several times. I know how corny that sounds...but it works. Warts and all, I tell myself that I am loved. It helps to practice active gratitude for loving friends and family who accept you as you are. It helps to say gratitude prayers to the wide beautiful sky and sun and moon and trees, and to ask the angels to help, to stand by you, to wrap you up in their love. 

When you love yourself and are not actively judging your perceived shortcomings, you are free to practice kindness and compassion to others as well. And that helps everyone.

2. My Myers-Briggs result has long been INFP. That I score can come very close to an E score, depending on what I am involved in and actively doing -- especially when I was in jobs that required a great deal of social interaction.  But I always needed the down time, the contemplation and solitude and quiet, especially after actively being engaged with groups.

By nature  I am an introvert, and definitely was one this year as I spent long hours sitting in a recliner with my foot up, reading or thinking or knitting or watching television or talking with my honey, who also is an introvert. Our camping trips were quiet times, mostly, with the two of us and the kitties sharing our little trailer and reading or napping or talking or enjoying the scenery where we were camping.  I don't see this changing much in 2014.

Reverb 13: Day 8 -- Good stuff and adventures

1. What went right in 2013?

Maybe you didn't quit smoking or lose those pounds or go to Paris, but something did work, did happen, and/or was realized. What was it?

2. Adventure | Did you go on an adventure in 2013?  What sort?

1.  Eh. See Day 7. I guess I sound like a broken record, but truly, recovering from surgery and letting go of a major pain-in-the-ass responsibility for my daughter's finances was HUGE.  With both of those gone (but not forgotten), I feel more freedom to actually do what I want to do. Or figure out just what it IS that I want to do. 

2. Actually, healing is a big adventure, especially allowing someone to take care of you to the extent I had to do, and there were blessings in that: I read a lot. I spent time simply BE-ing instead of always feeling like I should be DO-ing. I liked that, truthfully, and want more. 

We traveled more this year than we ever have, not necessarily far from home, but still away. In September we visited our daughter and grandchildren in Seattle, saw some long-ago friends and renewed that connection, camped with my cousin and his significant other on the Oregon coast, and spent more time campiing in some interesting places on the coast for nearly three weeks. The biggest problem with that adventure was not enough down time, which we remedied with 10 days in Marin County in a pretty wooded campground where we read and watched some television and spent days by the ocean and ate healthy food and talked and talked and slept and petted kitties. 

Taking the kitties camping with us was also an adventure, and we are lucky that they adapted beautifully. Turns out that as long as they're with us, they're happy boys, and as long as we're with them, we're much happier than when we left them either at home (with a caretaker looking after them twice a day) or in the 'spa' where poor McMurphy was labeled a 'biter' because he was so stressed out at being separated from us. Yes, they're spoiled. So?

Reverb 13: Day 6 -- Memories and aging

Today's prompts:

1. There are so many “precious things” that are presented to us each day; discoveries and treasures found in simple moments, memories we wish to store in our hearts and keep with us forever.   What precious things have you gathered in 2013?

Which memories from this year do you wish to keep with you always?

2. Blowing out the candles | You're another year older!  How did you celebrate the passage of another year?  Did it turn out the way you had hoped?

1.  Of the many precious things that I have experienced in 2013, two remain my most vivid, two memories that never fail to soothe my soul and gladden my heart and create a deep sense of peace within. One is when we are safely in our great room, wood stove fire glowing, angel lights above it gleaming, kitties snuggied into their tuffets, and my greatest love sitting in his chair and I in mine. It feels safe and warm and loving. 

The other place also involves my Tony and the kitties, and it is when we are warm and safe in bed for the night in our 'great green room,' with clean sheets (flannel in winter, lovely organic cotton in the summer) and both of us reading, both kitties settled on the bed, and kindly dark quiet surrounding us. It just does not get better than this.

2. We chose to celebrate our birthdays, six days apart (same year) in a lovely wooded campground in western Marin County (California), very near the Point Reyes National Seashore. To no one's surprise, we spent both days by the ocean, driving those twisty, windy windswept and nearly bare hills and seeing the dairy farms (known by letters, not names), cattle roaming the hills, and nearly always within sight of Mama Ocean. We visited several beaches and sat for a long time watching the waves roll lazily in, the sea blue and quiet, the sun glinting off the water. We talked about so many things -- children, aging, memories -- and soaked in the wisdom and peace of the eternal water and ancient land. We took a walk along the San Andreas Fault, the Earthquake Trail at the Point Reyes Visitor Center, where we were reminded of the enormous energy that is contained under our feet -- I felt it all the way through the top of my head -- and watched a group of school children running from marker to marker to read about the fault line and discover the natural features of the area. 

I confess to feeling older and not especially loving that, especially walking along the trail with the kids running past us and their mothers and teachers following at a brisk pace. I want time. I want the days to slow down some -- just yesterday Tony commented on how fast they go by.  I am grateful for each of them, but aware that there are fewer ahead than there are behind me.

I can close my eyes now and see the waves rolling in on the chilly beaches, sunlight surrounding us golden and warming.  And I'd like to spend my birthday every year by our beloved ocean, drinking in that constancy.

Catching up -- bits of thought for 2011

While I've composed bits and pieces of blog posts in my head this past month, they haven't made it to actual type and format. I'm sorry...but also if you've missed me, I'm glad. I'll try to do better.

I've really missed Reverb10, which kept me writing nearly daily in December, introspectively examining the past year and figuring out what was impactful. I know there are prompts out there, but it's not the same thing.

I began a post about taking care of myself and my determination this year to do just that, but it didn't get far. That said, I AM doing more for my own good this year: a weekly yoga class that uses muscles I didn't remember I had, walking at least 10 minutes a day, monthly massages that rejuvenate my body and my spirit from a marvelous masseuse who also uses energy work to enhance her magic fingers, and better permission to read during the day if I want -- something I haven't allowed myself to do much of in some time. I guess it's because I think it's unproductive -- and yet I'll read on the computer for several hours, blogs, websites, etc. Go figure.

Anyway, I'm working on all of it, mostly successfully.

I've spent some time petting kitties too, especially since a friend recently lost her dearly loved 11-year-old cat, and his sibling kitty just three months ago too. I was so sad for her loss, knowing full well how devastating the death of a much-loved animal can be -- dare I say even more, sometimes, than the death of a human? I think it's because with animals we just are who we are and they love us anyway, warts and all. Animals sense a troubled spirit and try to soothe it; they give back so much acceptance and energy and patience with us despite our moods and our troubles. They are with us daily, especially if we're at home much of the time. I appreciate our little boys and am always happy to hold them and pet them when they spring into my lap, even when I don't always appreciate a furry tail in front of my computer monitor.

And I've been following the giant storm that's icing its way across the Midwest today -- deadly ice in Missouri and Indiana -- both states in which I've lived -- and other cities too. I still have relatives and friends there and have been concerned for them. So far, they assure me, they're fine.

We have such spring-like weather right now, with highs in the 60s and approaching 70, and sunshine. Last week we had some bad fog in the mornings and evenings, but it's not ice and snow. (Actually we need more winter -- rain and cooler temperatures -- because all this false spring makes fruit trees blossom too early.) But it's hard to remember what it's like to have below zero temperatures and ice over everything and deep snow -- and we both have had our share of that. I am not a fan of the 110 degree summer days, but I'll take that in order to have the relatively mild winters we have here -- little or no snow, good rain, and temperatures that only rarely get below freezing. Fifty miles in three directions, however, will put us right in a snowbank with plenty of cold ~ another thing I do like about living here.

So here we are in February again: a short month, sweet holidays, a bit more winter (I hope), and then March comes with spring, and then July isn't far behind with hot days.

Time goes faster as we get older, I think. The hair looks a bit more gray, the skin a bit more weathered, the flexibility a bit less. And I look at myself in the mirror and wonder how that all happened so quickly? I remember being 16, waiting for my boyfriend to pick me up for a date. I remember being 21 and about to graduate from college and get married, and I remember when my now almost-35-year-0ld daughter was a baby, feeding herself pears and cottage cheese with her hands rather than the spoon, and getting it all over her sweet face.

I wouldn't go back.

But I'd sure like to slow this time down a little bit more, savor the days and the love and the weather and the kitties and the tastes and the kisses a little longer. I'm heading rapidly toward what I used to regard as 'old' -- and I know what eventually comes -- and I'm not ready for that.

So I'll try again, always, to live where I am, in this moment, with this chore or this joy or this taste or this hug, and to really, REALLY be present. That's all I can do.

Passings

I marvel at the first of every month that it's here, that time goes so quickly the older I get.

Events this last week have made me do that, too--observe again how quickly things come and go.

Presidential elections: I remember the election of 1968, in which I missed voting (age was 21 then) by a mere two weeks, but I got special permission from the Dean of Students to stay out of the dorm until midnight-1 a.m. or so. I was news director at KMOE, our campus station, the first woman on the (paid) executive staff, and we covered the results. It was a very big deal on all counts, and I worked very hard to report the results from a professional, neutral viewpoint.

I supported George McGovern in 1972, and watched with tears in my eyes his defeat with a fellow AAUW member after our monthly meeting in my little Missouri town.

I remember voting for Jimmy Carter, with my baby girl in my arms.

Coursework: I finished today the second of two required courses for my real estate license, and wonder how it is that I've worked as an agent for nearly 18 months already. I can account for it all, transaction by transaction, but it's gone so quickly. We've been here nearly two years, in our house!

People: My frail little mother ended up in the hospital Friday -- first time in 2 years. She's okay and will go back to the nursing home soon, but she never comes back quite all the way. I remember so clearly how she was at MY age -- how active, busy, involved, pretty. It's hard to think I'll be 57 in just two weeks, and she's already 83-close-to-84. And it's been five years since Daddy died. (I still talk to him.) Two of their friends died this last week, too, and while I know in my head that dying is a part of the circle, it is hard to think of a world without these people in it.

It's fall here--another passing of the season, from hot and dry into cool and damp, from swamp cooler to wood stove, and it was within the same week that it happened! Christmas will be here and gone too soon.

And more: You can't MAKE people see reason and a good path, and I still (forever) have trouble with that. Egos get in the way of good judgement, and tempers flare. Makes me sad.

Our kittens are growing up: the inside boys were neutered last week. When they came to us, they couldn't have been much more than 4-5 weeks old -- tiny kittens dumped by the railroad tracks.

Makes me want to put my foot out and drag it, to slow things down a bit. I want to savor people, events, places, things a little more than I seem to have time to do. I want to hold them close in my mind's eye so I can go back to them when they're gone. I do that some now, but I want to do it more.