#Reverb 14. Day 16

1. Like many folks, I picture myself as a modern day Wonder Woman, trying to use my superpowers, to do lists and pure force to get what I want. In 2014, I found that my effort wasn’t often tied to my desired outcomes -- except when it was.

In 2015, is there something you’d like to try harder at because you believe it would make all the difference? 

Conversely, what is something you could stop trying so hard at that might actually help you manifest what you’d like?

2. 1000 Words: There’s the old saying that a photo is worth 1,000 words.  Give us a photo with that impact that sums up some significant event of your 2014, or give us 1,000 words about a pivotal moment in 2014.

Huh. 

I'm not just chomping at the bit to respond to either of these today. 

With #1, I'm just not in that mode of thinking anymore. Back when I was working and 20 years younger, yeah, it might have made some sense to practice or to reflect on this. 

Nowadays, I am more about taking care of my needs and paying attention to my physical issues, and doing what I can to mitigate those issues. I don't know that there is anything there I could 'try harder' to do that I think would make 'all' the difference. There are a few things I know I can do that will definitely make a difference -- the two primary ones being to lose some weight and to ramp up my exercise and flexibility program. But 'all' the difference? No. 

Neither is there anything I can stop doing that will manifest what I want -- which is to live peacefully and healthily for many more years. I am already doing things to help that along. I have stopped behaviors that were detrimental to that end, at least mostly. Eating is not optional, and I refuse to completely stop eating some of the sweet things I enjoy, but do try to make my consumption moderate. 

So no, I guess my response is that I am doing all I can, where I am, with what I've got right now. 

And regarding the picture -- I have already written a bunch of words about the significant event of 2014 -- yep. The ablation. The only picture that would adequately illustrate this is a 'before' picture of an EKG with me in afib, and an 'after' picture of an EKG with me in normal sinus rhythm. While I have the latter, I don't have the former. But picture a squiggly, uneven EKG for the former, and a nice, normal EKG for the latter. That's where I am now, and where, by the grace of God, I'll stay.

  

#Reverb 14, Day 14

1. The idea of rooting down into your own personal beliefs and center of truth is an ongoing process, and many things can serve as anchors or roots as you move through life.

What rooted or anchored you in 2014?

And where do you want to put down roots in 2015?

2. One word: What one word could describe your 2014?

1. Moving through all the fear and anxiety and change that I did this year both around my heart issues and also around my daughter's issues required from me the faith that things could be better than they were. 

And so I took one step at a time and let go of some things -- like the financial involvement in my daughter's life and desire to steer her life in the direction I thought it should go, for instance. I'd started that process more than a year ago then, but really took definite steps to get myself out of it -- and in the process this year, I've lost any interest in playing detective and finding out details that she often omits in conversation. Her path is hers to live and to manage, and not mine, and I will not be easily drawn into any future drama. 

That all required faith from me that she indeed could do this, that I could indeed let go. 

The whole heart health problems demanded faith that it could improve and that I would be okay through it all. One step at a time. One procedure, one call, one visit, one test at a time. And it has gotten both easier and better.

So for 2015, I want to keep faith, but I want to add strength: in body and mind and spirit. Practice the techniques I learned this year, rebuild body strength, and continue to grow in spiritual paths.

2. Duh. 

Faith. 

#Reverb14: Day 9

1. As you enter into the new year, what would you like to do/make/have/be more often? How will you bear witness and celebrate the tiny milestones? How will you respond on the occasions when your intentions do not come to pass?

2. The Plank: It has been said that you must learn to take care of yourself before you can be effective at taking care of others.  How did you take care of yourself in 2014?  How will you take care of yourself in 2015?

Yesterday slipped away from me -- a long day of shopping for both donation gifts (for kids, through my Bunco group) and the beginnings of my own shopping. Got home and left 45 minutes later for the photo club Christmas party, and didn't get home from that until about 10. I was ready for bed.

1. In other words, what do I want to do with my life next year? I would like to spend much less time going to doctors, for one, and more time traveling with my honey. I want to feel stronger and steadier on my feet. I want to learn some new things and practice some of those I learned this year. I want to feel content and happy more often. 

With the afib issue looking far more positive and the painful foot issue scheduled for surgery in early January, my health concerns should be pretty much resolved. Time to make exercise and rehab a priority again and regain all the strength and balance I've lost over the past three years. Feeling better and stronger will mark that successful venture. And always there is the January diet plan that will kick in, which I'm hoping will work in tandem with the getting stronger and steadier routine. How will I know it is working? When I can walk easily without getting winded quickly, and when I don't feel unsteady. 

There are always slips and lapses. The important thing is not to abandon the effort because things are not progressing as quickly as I'd hoped or that I escaped back into comfort food for a while. This is truly a lifelong effort that is done one day at a time. 

That's all we ever get anyway, one day at a time. I can handle pretty much anything for one day. And I'm a lot better about not beating myself up all the time. I can do this and I want to do this. 

2. I can save one life --  mine. Since I read Mary Oliver's life-changing poem "The Journey," a few years ago, that has been my touchstone, but this has not always been the case.  And while my husband looks out for me constantly, he can only do so much: the rest is up to me. 

I took a very proactive path about my health in 2014 and will continue to do so in 2015, although I hope 2015 will be largely rehab-oriented and not quite so much medical procedure and medication-driven! 

I own my mistakes and my faults, but I don't own any one else's, nor can I manage another's life. I think I may finally understand this, hard though it is. I am finally living life doing what I want to do, putting me (and us, my husband and me) first, and that is a radical change. Nobody else gets to call the shots on what I do or don't do; nobody gets to make me feel guilty about it either. What a concept, eh?

More of this in 2015. Happier. Wiser. Stronger. More generous with myself and my love.  

April Moon: Day 15 -- One

One

What feelings does this word evoke? What sorts of memories does it recall? Which of your senses start to tingle? How would you represent what this word means to you?

One can be a single entity or concept, a solitary figure, not paired with anything else. But it also can imply that many (thoughts, people, ideas, entities) are combined into ONE unit, usually for some purpose in business or political action or education or government.

Everything begins with One as well; it is the basis. One individual reaches to another for something, which multiplies the One. At the end, there is still only One.

We are all ONE in our human-ness. We are born One, we die One. Many individuals live as One unit households. Essentially we are uniquely One.

Combine even for a brief time with others to accomplish a task, attend a class, rally for a cause, even live in a town, and all those individual Ones  become a multiple One.

This is society. This is how we live, nearly all of us.

What it means is that we do not have to be a solitary One unless we so choose to isolate. And while there are times we all need to do just that, we are still social beings and yearn to connect with other Ones, to find the common spark, the energy of connection. In so doing, our Ones become ONE.

All spiritual roads lead to One Universal Truth, although there are many names for that One, and many paths to follow.

 One is do-able, especially on days where more than that is overwhelming.  One Day At A Time.

April Moon 14: Day 5-7 -- Focus, Nuance, Texture

Focus

What feelings does this word evoke? What sorts of memories does it recall? Which of your senses start to tingle? How would you represent what this word means to you?

Like many women, I tend to have several conversation threads running at the same time in my brain: "I can use these leftovers and create _____ for supper," "Let's see, no appointments today, yay, so let's file those long overdue papers," "Need to make time for the latest Oprah-Deepok meditation," "Oops, still laundry to fold," "Wonder what the freebie Kindle is today," and you get the picture. All jumbled up at the same time, but following each one.

FOCUS  is when I follow only one thread at a time. The other conversations, to-do lists, and worries fade away. My attention is riveted only on one thing. Like in meditation: I am focused on my breath, in and out, and if necessary, use a mantra to help me focus only on that. (Sometimes it works for a brief time too! And then I bring my focus back to the breath. And again. And again.)

Sometimes it's called multi-tasking. Actually, it often results in things done poorly, incompletely, or dropping off the radar completely (until you're trying to go to sleep, that is, and then whoosh -- there it is).

Focus helps me do a better job of nearly anything I'm trying to do. It helps me pay attention to conversations with my friends and loved ones because I'm not thinking of what I'm going to say, I'm LiSTENING to what they are saying. It helps me appreciate what is around me every day -- my home, the beautiful countryside, the individuality of our kitties. When I focus, I see more, feel more, and it stimulates great gratitude for what is there.

Less multi-tasking. More focus. Yeah, you, there, in the sweatpants. One. Thing. At. A. Time. Listen. Open. Be Present, right here, right now.

Nuance

What feelings does this word evoke? What sorts of memories does it recall? Which of your senses start to tingle? How would you represent what this word means to you?

OOOOhhh--Nuance is another step in FOCUS, actually, where you pay extra close attention and see a slightly different viewpoint, hear a slightly different tone, see a slightly different perspective, understand something in a slightly different way.

You must be very focused, really immersed in something, to capture the nuances. As you look and listen and examine and feel and see, focus expands not off the subject or thing or person, but wider, sort of like a macro lens on a camera, where you see subtle variations that enhance your perception and appreciation, and expanding your knowledge and understanding. It is the difference between strolling through an art gallery and studying one picture.

When I pay attention, I see nuances. Again, being where I am, present in the moment, will open me to subtleties of life and what I experience.


Texture

What feelings does this word evoke? What sorts of memories does it recall? Which of your senses start to tingle? How would you represent what this word means to you? 

Years and YEARS ago I wrote an essay for a high school English class on visiting a fabric store and discovering the texture of the different fabrics: corduroy, lace, damask, tulle, flannel, cotton, linen, silk, etc. Even now, I can recall the feeling of these different fabrics on my fingertips and how different each texture is, and even the emotions the texture evokes: the soft warmth and nubbiness of the flannel makes me think of cold winter nights and warm flannel sheets and jammies, for instance. The open, slightly stiff but airy weave of tulle says PARTY to me, even more specifically, WEDDING! 

Food texture also stimulates memory: the silky warmth of creamy tomato soup and a crunchy melty-smooth grilled cheese is pure comfort food and memory for many of us. I love the sogginess of graham crackers well-soaked in milk, a kind of slurry almost, that slid down sore throats easily and makes me remember that treat when I didn't feel so good and the comforting care my mother gave me when I was sick. Crisp, fresh lettuce straight from the garden, still slightly sun-warm, and drizzled with a good olive oil and a bite of fresh Meyer lemon makes my mouth pucker in anticipation.

Everything has texture. It gives our moments depth and creates memory. It makes our experiences richer and more meaningful. And again, it is all about paying attention, being in the moment, focusing on one thing at a time, finding the nuances in the experience.





 

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 31: A look foward

The prompt:

At the finish | What's next for you?

Oh, would that I had such vision.

Then again, I'm not sure I really want to know.

My intention is to do more things that make me happy this year. More ocean. More travel. More reading. More quality time and less time on stupid games like Candy Crush Saga!!! 

I intend to work on my relationship with my daughter R, who right this moment is showing good signs about getting out of her awful, toxic living situation, and who I pray will have the strength to cut off contact with her abusers. I want to treat her as the adult she is and limit the lecture and the worry. That means I must continue to work on turning it over to the Universe/God, and creating my own space of acceptance and calm. 

I intend to build up my strength through yoga and Tai Chi and whatever else takes my fancy, because I feel better in my body when I am giving it positive, healthy attention. I intend to skip the excuses: at my age, there is no one to blame but me. 

I intend to be grateful every single day, multiple moments each day, for all the blessings I have and cherish, and for the good people in my life, and I intend to be kinder, more thoughtful, more proactive about being a good friend to others. I intend to listen more than I speak.  And not interrupt.

I intend to continue cleaning out stuff that no longer serves me, recycling what can be reused, giving it away, or putting it in the trash. I made good progress last year, but there are still areas (attic, I'm calling you out) that are cluttered with too much stuff. I even gave away books -- to friends, to my daughters, to the library, to thrift stores. 

Mostly, though, I intend to focus on MY life as I want it to be, on what I still want to do, and on enjoying every single day with my husband. Life is short and we never know when our time is up, and it gets shorter with each passing year. So this year is going to be a really good one for ME.

 

Reverb 13: Day 20: Looking forward with gratitude

1.Forward is the only direction.

The mirror never lies, but everything in it is backwards. 

Look at what you see in the mirror. How does it change if you view yourself with eyes that can only look forward?

2. Gratitude | How did you show gratitude this year?  Did you keep a gratitude journal?  How do you want gratitude to play a role in your life in 2014?

1.  GAH. I've been thinking about this prompt for several days now, and I'm really not sure what to write. I'm pretty good at staying in the moment or moving forward with most things -- this time of year being a big exception -- and that forward-looking visage actually looks pretty good to me most of the time. Yeah, it's not what I looked at 30 years ago;  actually it's better in all the ways that really matter. I want to see what is there in the mirror TODAY, now, and be grateful for that, looking neither forward nor backwards. We know what has been; we don't know what the next moment may bring to us, so I want to cherish and love what I see in THIS moment. 

Yes, at this time of year, I do remember Christmases past and people who are no longer on this earth who I miss and love. I remember traditions and rituals we had that are no longer part of our observance, because the cast of characters and the settings have changed, and many are not relevant nor meaningful any longer. That doesn't mean I don't look forward; it just means that memory remains, probably clouded somewhat with mists of cookies and peppermint and pine and laughter, but that's not bad either. 

Today I am grateful that I can still see my image, that I am happy and loved, that I have enough of everything to sustain me. One day at a time. How does it get better than that?

2. I've spoken of gratitude in other posts; it has been a dominant theme for me this year. I started a gratitude journal, yes, but actually say gratitude prayers multiple times every day. And this year I found Anne Lamott's book "Help. Thanks. Wow. The Three Essential Prayers" to be an inspiring and touching meditation that I have re-read often -- it is often the book I open when I'm settled in bed at night. "Thanks" is a prayer that I say so many times daily, for so many reasons, and expect that to continue in 2014 with new ways to show gratitude.

Reverb13: Day 12. Jumping into truth?

1.I'm a big fan of muddy experiences. They become our greatest teachers when we're wise enough to exfoliate with them; roll around in the deep until we finally feel ready to get clean. 

Today, identify something muddy that kept recurring for you throughout 2013, and then ask yourself this: What's the clear truth underneath this damn mud if I finally wash myself clean?

2. Free writing | Write for five consecutive minutes on the word "jump" as it pertains to this past year.  No editing.  Set a timer.  Just write.

1. Two things became clear to me this year, after muddling about, mudding about with them for most of the year, probably more than that, actually.

When I regularly exercise, I feel stronger and more stable on my feet. We're not talking huge weight machines and stuff, just cycling and walking and doing leg lifts and stepups and balance work, and I like the whole body machine at the rehab gym too. I hate going to the gym. But I feel better when I do it and finally see the whole point. Now getting back on track is key here, and I'm still not doing that. So many excuses.

2. Jump. I don't jump much physically anymore although I did a little of it during my rehab sessions. I am, however, pretty good at jumping to conclusions, usually far more dire conclusions than reality actually turns out to be. I jumped to several of those this year where it concerns my daughter, partly because I hear only her perspective, usually on a day when she is really not doing well, or I don't hear from her at all and begin to picture really awful scenarios -- and lately, with what I know is true and from what she has told me, some of those scenarios might be far closer to the truth than I would like to believe. 

Controlling that imagination that is based on so little actual evidence is a huge challenge for me, and pretty much always has been. I do jump too readily to the worst case possibilities. I'd like to work on not jumping at all, just staying right where I am, in this moment, focusing on the breath, on my energy, on taking one moment at a time, since there is NOTHING I can change about anybody else's life. I can change what I do, however, and how high, how far, how frequently I jump. So for me, at this moment, it's 'left foot, right foot, left foot, BREATHE.' Not jump.

Reverb 13, Day 10: Cultivating a life worth loving

1. Living life on auto-pilot can feel disorienting and dull. How did you cultivate a life worth loving during 2013?

How can you turn off your auto-pilot button in 2014?

2. Inspiration | What inspired you this year?  How do you think this will impact the year to come?

1.  Being mindful and present is hard work and not always a lot of fun. It means you are living right here, right now, with all the issues you may be encountering and the emotions they bring up. It is easier to escape for a bit, immersing yourself in endless games of "Candy Crush Saga" or "Bejeweled Blitz," or lurking on Facebook to see what is going on that is far more interesting than what is going on in your life. 

You can fritter away a lot of time this way. And then look back at the day and wonder where it went, that day of your life that you can never get back. The day you spent chasing stupid colored balls and squares, or following links to pictures of people doing stupid or funny things.

I've done my share of that this year. 

But this year I also have actively worked on creating positive energy within nearly every day. Well, at least often. I have deliberately taken days off when I am feeling overwhelmed to read books and magazines and newspapers, or to take a drive in the country with my honey, or to sit outside and pet kitties and marvel at the symmetry and beauty of nature and where we live, even on the hot days of summer . I have plowed through tasks, housekeeping-style things, like cleaning cupboards -- sometimes just one shelf a day -- or sorting through books that I no longer need or use, or tidying a drawer. Small things eventually reduce large tasks to something manageable, and help me feel as though I am moving forward.

Within those small tasks, though, is time to think, to be with my emotions and fears and issues, and not be overwhelmed by them. In that work, there is resolution as well. And getting out from underneath that constant list of to-dos is liberating, allowing me to do things that bring me happiness without the underlying feeling that I SHOULD be doing something more productive.

At least that works for me. More of that in 2014.

2. I addressed this with yesterday's post, Day 9. But there was one other person who inspired me: a woman who is a dynamo volunteer and business owner in our community, Jessie Woods. She is also a neighbor and a friend who helped me learn to create positive energy within myself, to look at what my gut tells me, and to move forward into positive action and thought.  Her lessons and therapies and loving concern helped me get through some big stuff with minimal fear, and gave me tools to sustain and nurture that energy within myself.  When this student was ready, that teacher was there, and I am so grateful.

Reverb 13: a look at 2013, Day 1

I do love writing to prompts, and there is such value in taking a look at the year that is ending, so once again I am participating in #Reverb 13.

There are at least two programs going with this hashtag, and I'm signed up for both. One is through Kat McNally, and you can sign up and find info here.

The other is titled Project Reverb and is hosted by another Kat, Sarah, and Meredith, whose blog I've read for a long time. Signup and info is here.

Already I'm a day late, but we attended A Cascade Christmas in Redding yesterday, and were out much of the day. It was, by the way, the perfect way to switch into holiday mode, with a lovely blend of nostalgia, warm fuzzies, a touch of religion, and a bunch of familiar carols, sung skillfully in one blended number by a group dressed in lovely Victorian garb. Tickets are still available for next weekend here.

Prompts for Dec. 1 were:
1. How do you feel, on this first day, in your mind? In your body? In your heart? In your soul?

2. At the start: Where did you start 2013?  Give us some background on this year.

Let's see if I can manage both, but beginning with #2.

New Year's Day found me sitting in Tony's recliner with my left foot plastered to the knee and propped up on multiple pillows. That's where I remained for most of January, venturing out only to the doctor for post-op exams, and once to get my shaggy hair cut and have lunch at the tail end of the month. I'd had a triple arthrodesis Dec. 27.

There were blessings to this forced convalescence, and I wrote about many of them early in the year. While there is still one of the fused joints still healing, the other two show new bone and fusion, but I can walk without pain and am very  glad I had the surgery. This year has been about healing and recovery, not only from the surgery, but from the fear and anxiety and angst I had had about it and other parts of my life.

With the exception of worry and fear about my daughter's safety and unbelievably awful living situation, at this moment my life is better than it has ever been. I am so grateful for the friends and neighbors who helped us during my recovery, and for the wonderful support and care that my husband gave to me then and always.

Which brings me to the first prompt: see that very first sentence on the last paragraph. That's how I am in my mind and heart. One thing I know: I can save one life, and it is not hers. That is up to her, and I have finally gotten out of her way so that she can continue her own journey. I cope better with it some times than I do others, but I am doing it. And I pray that her angels will keep her safe and help her to get away from the badly broken people who are living with her. She knows I love her.

I still feel fragile in my body, but it doesn't hurt and gets me where I need to go. Through the rehab I did this year, I finally understood that going to a gym has nothing to do with looking better and everything to do with getting stronger and more flexible. Yet I confess that the heat this summer did me in for regular visits, and I have not started back yet. My intention is to resume regular visits and classes because I know results will show quickly and I will feel better and less fragile.

I am continuing to focus on energy and spiritual work, and my connection to the Universe is strong and powerful, although I still would like a like-minded group to work with. My teacher Jessie has helped me tremendously this past year to dump bad energy and increase good, healing vibration and spirit, and I am grateful to her.

Onward.

Once in a Blue August Moon: Day 6 -- Zeniths and Nadirs

The prompt: The zeniths and the nadirs. Where have the highlights and low points been for you so far in 2013? Where are you now? How would you like your year to end?

Actually, you'd think I was on antidepressants (I'm not): I haven't had moments of great joy nor of great sorrow this year, and I'm oh so good with that continuing.

I have had moments of tremendous gratitude, like when I came out of the anesthetic after surgery, gasping and sleepy, but so glad I was awake and alive and all right.

Quiet and all-encompassing feelings of gratitude and enormous contentment at very ordinary things, like sitting with my honey and kitties, watching a favorite television show, in a darkened great room with woodstove firelight flickering; tiny white lights high above the stove in a built-in alcove silhouetting the angels I have sitting there, some from my mother including one painted by one of her close friends (both of them now dead), another from a wonderful former client, and all watchful and comforting.

Pleasure at attending a live theater performance -- we don't miss many, if any -- from the Cascade Theatre or Riverfront Playhouse or Shasta College in Redding. The variety of plays and talent is broad: some are fun because the cast members try so hard; others are memorable because the acting is so professional; others reflect such amazing talent in the script. Occasionally, as in "The Women of Lockerbie" which we saw yesterday at Riverfront, and "Fiddler on the Roof" at the Cascade a few months ago, both outstanding script and exceptionally talented cast combine for an unforgettable and stunning performance. I love watching live theater. I love being on stage in an amazing play even more, but those roles don't come often.

I've found little delights in mundane things: wearing a fun pair of comfortable shoes that make me smile every time I look at them. Savoring a piece of really delicious pie with good friends. Feeling sleek and stylish every time I get my hair cut in the precise, angled style I am wearing, greys and whites gleaming in the salon light, and swinging neatly as I walk. Stretching and moving in the dim yoga studio, imagining the muscles and ligaments easing into the familiar positions, and the spiritual grace of 'namaste' we offer at the close of the session. Loving the gleam of clean floors and fixtures after my friend has worked her magic on my house.

Clean, soft sheets every week and the cool green bedroom where we sleep every night, holding hands as we drift off. Reaching to touch my honey in the night, just grateful he is there and breathing.

Anticipation at traveling in our new-to-us travel trailer with our beloved kitties coming along rather than being left at home or in a kennel where they are frightened and surly because they are not with us -- and the comfort we all feel at being together in bed every night. The prospect of spending more than a week beside our mighty-mighty ocean in several campgrounds, reveling in the crash of waves, the salt air, the age-old power that emanates from its depths and stills our souls and minds.

There are low points as well, but far fewer.

Moments of frustration and apprehension: learning that I would have to have a general anesthetic rather than a twilight one just before I went into the OR. 

Times of worry and fear for a loved one who seems to repeat the same patterns without ever learning the lessons that I see so clearly. Ongoing grief for the loss of what might have been, and reluctant distrust in what I am being told and not told.

Anxiety and fear during episodes of afib that seem to occur approximately monthly, although they nearly always revert spontaneously within a few hours to a steady sinus rhythm. (And such gratitude that they do.)

Where am I now? I work daily on gratitude and calm and energy, focusing the energy where I need it most at that moment. I know that nothing is permanent; everything changes, and that the good (which I try to savor as it happens) will pass away as well as the not-good. I am grateful to be who and where I am, and overwhelmingly grateful that I am loved so dearly and deeply by a man who I love just as dearly and deeply. That is THE BEST of my life.

By the end of the year? More joy. More things that make me smile and feel happy. Any health apprehensions addressed and resolved, or at least treated. More awareness of how great a gift life is EVERY SINGLE DAY. More writing. More decluttering of stuff. More spirit.

Amen.

Scintilla#13, Day 15

1. Tell the story of how you got the thing you are going to keep forever. Include an image in your post, if you can.

2. Fears come in different sized packages. Tell the story of a time you had a face a fear, big or small.

Oh, let's just comment on both of these today.

The thing I am going to keep forever, hm. Well, nothing lasts forever, for sure not this life, although I hope I've got a bunch of years still to go. And I'm much more in the mindset of getting rid of 'things' that I no longer need/use/want, although I have a long way to go on that front.

I wear rings that I probably will keep forever, or at least until I leave this body. Three were given to me by my dearest love, my husband. The other two, on the same finger, are my mother's engagement ring and my grandmother's wedding ring which my mother wore along with her wedding rings.

But things are things: we imbue them with emotion and sentiment from our stories about them. They do not have emotion of their own, although I do think gemstones can absorb energy both positive and negative, and would always cleanse a stone that had been worn by someone else. Things can clutter up a life and certainly a home, and I am ready to simplify and pare down papers and books and possessions. It is a process, though, not a mere spring cleaning. I'm simply done with too much stuff.

And then fear: oh come on. All of us face daily fear in one size or another: is that twinge normal or is it cancer/heart/stroke? Who is in that car in my driveway -- I'm not expecting anyone? Will I have enough money to pay bills/retire/survive a crisis? Will my children be safe on their way to and from school today? Is my job reasonably secure (understanding that in today's world, NO job is secure)?

There are a thousand and one little fears that stress us every day whether or not we acknowledge them as fear -- but that's what they are. How we handle them is the key to living a good life, a life that is what we want it to be. When we allow fear to paralyze us into inaction, we endow it with power over everything, our heart, our brain, our courage, our health, our peace of mind, our quality of life. And sometimes we need help in figuring out how to walk through the fear and find our true life -- from a friend, from a spiritual practice, from a doctor or therapist. But the important thing is that it can be dealt with. We do not have to live in fear.

My health is probably the most fearful thing in my life right now: learning to walk and balance again on a new ankle, hoping that I will eventually be able to take walks again without pain, hoping that my afib does not mean anything more than a broken natural regulator which can be controlled, hoping that I will not fall and break something, or get cancer, or get Alzheimer's, or any one of many other maladies. To cope, I try to eat properly, take prescribed medications that will diminish symptoms, strengthen my muscles and balance through PT and yoga, spend some time in gratitude and energy work, and live life one day at a time, which is all any of us really have anyway.

When I allow myself to go 'off in the ozone' and feel fearful, I talk to my honey, or to my doctor, and I find something to do that will shift my focus. The wee small hours of the night are a perfect breeding ground for the ice weasels that snake up your spine and dance into your belly, and magnify fear and anxiety. When they happen -- not often -- I sometimes picture myself surrounded by angels in white light, with the light repelling the dark fear. Or I drink a cup of hot tea in our quiet, dimly lit living room, often with a sleepy cat who comes to inquire why I am not in bed and stays to purr in my lap, further quieting the weasels (cats definitely hunt ice weasels, by the way). And then I go back to bed and to sleep.

 "To fear is one thing.  To let fear grab you by the tail and swing you around is another. " ~Katherine Paterson, Jacob Have I Loved

Scintilla#13, Day 13

The choices:

1. Post a photo of yourself from before age 10. Write about what you remember of the day the photo was taken. It may not be a full story—it may just be flashes of event and emotion—but tap into the child you were as much as you can.

2. The saying goes What you don't know won't hurt you, but sometimes the opposite is true. Talk about a time when you were hurt by something you didn't know.
 **************************

Two things I didn't know about: drug addiction and molestation.

Not mine. The repercussions of both impact me still today, however, and changed the life of my loved ones forever.

I didn't know about either when they first happened. It took some time and a lot of denial to believe the former. The abuse came to light years after it took place, but the true extent of it didn't surface until years later, and the two are definitely intertwined.

How they've hurt me: Shock.  Tears, oh, so many tears. Denial. Accusations. Loss of trust. Complete loss of trust. Dislike. Distance. Hours spent searching for help; more (futile) hours in 'detective' work. Grief for what might have been. Grief for the pain and suffering my loved ones have had. Grief for my hopes for their future. Grief for their hopes and potential.  And So. Much. Anger.

Oddly enough, guilt was not a factor, although I'm usually very good (and quick) at it. But I didn't even suspect  the abuse and therefore could not take steps to end it. I wish with all my heart that I could have stopped it -- but the authority of a child molester over his victim can be more powerful than the victim's desire to speak. The molester still lives, free today from a way-too-brief prison sentence for molesting another child. We know of many more victims for which he was not tried. I believe that what goes around comes around; I hope with every molecule of my black, revengeful Scorpio heart that it will. And that I will be around to see it.

The drug addiction was never mine to fix and it is always a choice to use or not to use, regardless of the circumstances. It took me years to truly, deeply understand that you cannot love someone clean. It will take many more years to trust again, and to stop feeling angry that this dear person has chosen such a horrible, destructive path. And the grief over the losses will probably never go away completely. I have learned that mine is the only life I can save. And I pray every day that my loved one will be able to save their own.

31 Days of Reflection -- Reverb11 -- Day 1

 Last year I participated for the first time in Reverb10, a full month of daily writing prompts about 2010. It was an enlightening experience: I was able to put some things in perspecttive and begin to visualize what I wanted 2011 to be.

This year, Gwen Bell, one of the original founders, realized that the exercise had fulfilled its purpose for her and she opted to go in different directions. Others have taken up the challenge, creating e-mail subscription lists or other means of issuing a daily challenge to reflect on the 'Reverberations' of 2011.

One such list is here: if you do a Google search, you'll find others, and the prompts may not be quite the same. I'm subscribed to two lists: both had the same first prompt as does the link above.

With that, I give you this year's first prompt:


Prompt: One word: Encapsulate the year 2011 in one word. Explain why.
Imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?

Perseverance. That's my word for 2011, although it is not the word I'd hoped it would be,which was Renewal. I kept the home fires burning this year, bit by bit doing some of the decluttering (though by no means all) both mental and physical that I'd hoped to accomplish. Not a lot changed, actually. There was a lot of one-day-at-a-time thinking. There wasn't much new started; there was a lot of maintenance involved, and just getting through stuff, not much of it major (thank god/dess). 2011 was another year down, but not what I'm hoping to make these years that I have left of my life, however many those may be.

A year from today, I hope to immediately say that my word for 2012 was Transition. Tony retires early in 2012 and already is gearing down a lot by working from home several days each week, delegating responsibilities, and beginning to think in terms of what it is he wants to be doing in 2012. With his retirement, perhaps I'll find more of my own since his work will no longer govern what we do, when we do it, and what we are focusing on. In November 2012, we transition from group health insurance to Medicare, officially beginning our 'senior' years, I think, at least in the eyes of many. I expect 2012 to be a transition for both of us into the next stage of our lives.

Just one wild and precious life

In my favorite movie and play, Steel Magnolias, Truvy says, "Honey, time marches on, and eventually you realize it's marchin' across your face."

Today a friend sent me the Baby Boomers Battle Hymn. "Holy crap, we're getting older!"

As my grandmother would have said, "'T'aint funny, McGee."

It's already May 5 and it's flying by. We'll be in 100-degree temperatures all too soon. And then it will be Christmas again.

It is, I suppose, the nature of youth to behave as though there is infinite time spreading before them and that they are, despite evidence to the contrary, pretty much invincible and indestructible. I sure acted that way, perhaps not exactly 'pissing my youth away,' as the You Tube version goes, but without any real acknowledgement that our time here is finite and precious.

It's only when there are more days behind us than in front that we begin to realize how quickly this life slips by. I'm so there.

That's why I'm striving these days to take care of myself, to tell those who I hold dear how I feel about them, to let go of things that drag me down, and to make some inroads on the things I want to do. I hope I have many more years, good years, ahead of me. But I don't want to face the end of this life wondering what I might have accomplished had I paid better attention to what was going on around me, to my health both physical and mental, and to those I have loved most and best.

So I resolve to do the following:

Relish something each day, be it a good book, a loving relationship, a beautiful flower, a devoted pet, a piece of really good chocolate. And be aware that it is good. Say prayers for those who are hurting and for myself. Be kind. Do at least one thing 'for the good of the order' -- I don't have to do it all in one day, but one task every day will get the job done. Tell my friends and family that I appreciate them and love them. And love who I am becoming, wrinkles, gray hair, stiff joints and all. God is not finished with me yet, and I may have discoveries and contributions to make that I haven't even dreamed of. And give thanks, every day, for this one wild and precious life.

Powerless over others' actions

A recurring theme in these now years of blog posts has been letting go of issues that are not mine to deal with: acknowledging that we are all powerless over people, places, and things, and then letting them go, putting the responsibility where it belongs -- which is not on ME.

I keep working on doing that. And I keep working on not worrying about the outcome of others' actions, and to not feel (or act on) the great need to step in front of that speeding train to keep them safe.

Some days I am more successful than others.

According to one astrology site, a change is coming this week. Hard as change can be, it needs to happen for me.

Not that I want drastic, awful, horrible death-in-the-family change, please, oh please not. Just a shift towards the positive, towards good growth and constructive actions.

And more letting go of things and situations that I am not responsible for, that I cannot cure, that I cannot control. Trying to manage my own thoughts and actions and life is enough: I am not responsible for the outcome of others' choices.

***************

Spring is springing. Our harbinger tree began leafing out this last weekend (right on time) which means that the other trees will soon bud into green life. We've had daffodils springing up here and there for a couple of weeks now, and many flowering trees (some of which lost lots of blossoms in the cold and wind we've had recently) but the little tree that unfurls its greenness first has always been our true indicator of spring.

While I do enjoy the lovely mild temperatures and the pretty green grasses that make this area so beautiful in the spring, I can't help thinking about the heat that I know will follow all too soon, and I confess that I prefer the woodstove, the rain, and the green grasses -- even the weeds -- to the crispy brown fields and searing 110-degree days that are always a part of our summer.

Our weeds are definitely thriving too -- we have not yet done the spring RoundUp blitz that beats them back from the house and along the driveway, and need to do so. If I can just go out for 10 minutes each day and pull weeds, it'll help: we're now past the stage where they are little sprouts that would hardly be seen once hit by the weed killer, and into full bushy mode, where they'd lay in dead heaps on the ground and REALLY look crappy.

Rhubarb is coming up in the (also weedy) garden but I'm not ready to think about getting into the garden just yet, nor about the plants in the pots close to the house. Later.

****************

I'm not doing well on my intention to write a book so far; some better on taking care of myself. I'm loving my weekly yoga class and can feel strength building in legs and core -- I only wish we had it twice weekly but am grateful for even this. Loving the monthly massages that so slow me down and release the bad kinks.

It takes time to break bad habits too, and I'm working on that -- most especially the one about letting things go. I'm grateful for time and security to do that. It will come, just as those hot days of summer will come. Meanwhile, we take things one day at a time -- doing all we can, where we are, with what we've got.

Foggy, foggy morning

Thick, pea-soupy fog blankets everything this morning and Tony just called to caution me to leave extra time on my way to an appointment this morning. He said it's just as foggy in town as out.

I'm grateful it's not inches of white stuff as they've had on the East Coast. I can deal with fog better.

The Daily Om has an interesting perspective on fog: stopping to listen carefully, moving forward with caution, paying attention to what is around you even if you cannot see it clearly. Eventually it lifts, revealing what it has hidden and making plain the shadows and obstacles.

One thing I know for sure: nothing lasts. Everything, even fog, will change and lift and become more clear. Everything changes.

We photographed the funeral of a young man this weekend who had served in the military in Iraq and Afghanistan, and then in the Honor Guard on the East Coast. (His mother had asked for photographers to come, to document the ceremony.) He had begun a career after his honorable military discharge doing something he absolutely adored doing, and then, out of nowhere, came problems, big hairy ones, that dragged on and on, and eventually cost him his beloved jobs. Although the issues were finally resolved, there was a cloud that trailed him, and he killed himself.

So area veterans sent him to God with full military honors, a gun salute, and an extremely moving flag ceremony performed by two young men who had traveled to a tiny Tehama County cemetery to do this one last ritual for a fellow soldier who had done it for so many others.

There is no doubt that he was loved and cherished by his family and friends. But he didn't have the maturity, I think, to understand that everything changes, that nothing stays the same, that if he had made just another phone call, perhaps someone would have helped him to understand that, to see that even though his life was not the same, it could be good again in a direction a little differently than what he had planned.

I know it isn't that simple, of course. And I wasn't in his shoes, nor even an acquaintance. I know he left life too young. I know he left a mother who will forever have a hole in her heart, people who loved him dearly. I know he will never have a second chance.

Life throws us all curve balls now and then. But as long as we are breathing, we have a second chance. The path we thought we were on may swerve and go a different direction. It may be hard to see the way through the fog and the curves and the detritus that often accompany such change. But it WILL clear. It always, always does.

People around me, near and dear to me, are struggling with health issues and financial woes this year -- not because of mismanagement of money or neglect of health, but just because it was their turn, I guess. It's hard to feel so helpless, and also hard to feel very 'Christmas-y" in the midst of such life-changing moments. I guess part of that is how I've always felt about Christmas: a magical holiday where, for one brief period of time in a year, people get along, are happy, enjoy family and friends, and feel good about themselves and where they are, and grateful. I do feel grateful. I am immensely, hugely, tremendously, always grateful to be where I am and with Tony. That overrides everything else.

I wish the young man had been able to find just one thing to be grateful for in his life, just one reason not to do what he did. I wish he could have been able to find the inner assurance that his fog would indeed lift and that his path -- a new path -- would be revealed, one step at a time.

We live our lives day by day, not year by year. We do all we can today -- with all the tools we have right now -- to do what it is we think we must. But in so doing, we proceed knowing that as we journey we will see another part of the path, and that while it may go a direction we hadn't planned for, nor even want, we are only as alone as we choose to be. If we ask for help, someone may show us a part of the path we hadn't seen, or help us to walk out of the fog. Sometimes all we have to do is to extend a hand, reaching for someone, something, and we will connect.

I can't fix the health problems or money woes that my loved ones are having, but I am here to hold a hand, to cry with them, to just BE here so they are not alone in the fog. They do the same for me. And in the larger scheme of things, that is what matters most.

Live today: tomorrow is not promised

One of my oldest and dearest friends has cancer. While I have every reason to believe she will get better -- and she believes it too -- it is scary.

She actually had it last year too in a cancerous colon polyp, but didn't have to endure chemo or radiation. It was an amazingly easy and swift recovery, and none of us really worried much because it was so contained.

But she has stage IIIa uterine cancer that spread to an ovary, although not any lymph nodes (blessings!), and we are waiting to hear about a teensy spot on her lung that was biopsied yesterday. Surgery is done and she'll do chemo, radiation, then more chemo, and tells me she expects to lose her hair.

She's more than 2,000 miles away from me, and I want to make it better. I want to give her hugs, to take her to the doctor, to fix food for her, to laugh at silly things with her, to visit the apple orchard we used to go to when I lived there, to enjoy the leaves that are turning.

Unlike me, who researches a subject until I know as much as I can possibly learn, she is okay with knowing enough about what to expect, but not too much. She is positive and while she says that she really doesn't want to play this game, she'll do whatever she's told to do in order to get it gone. And she will, too.

I'll go visit her when she needs me to come, whether that is sooner or later. She'll know. So will I.

Meanwhile, she has marvelous friends there who are taking care of her, and children who do too. She is well loved, and I tell her that's because she is such a good friend back to them. When we lived in the same town some 20 plus years ago, I went through a really rough patch and pretty much shut down emotionally, doing what I needed to do -- take care of my daughter, go to work, make sure things were running smoothly -- but I couldn't take anyone expressing sympathy or caring and would dissolve into puddles, so I just didn't listen to that, wouldn't hear it. I didn't go to choir, to church, or anywhere I might be with people who cared about me.

She wouldn't let me isolate. She literally banged on my front door until I opened it and let her in, and dissolved more than once into sobs on her shoulders. And she protected me from making a public display of my emotions too -- she stayed close by when we were with others who knew I was having a hard time, and kept things light.

She has gone through some of her own dark nights too, and I was there for her, although by then I lived that 2000 miles away, but I sent cards and letters, and she couldn't respond back for several years because it was too painful. And when we reconnected, when she finally wrote me all about it, it was like no time had passed.

It's like that when we see each other. We grow older, we grow wiser, we experience things (and tell each other about them), via e-mail and phone calls, but when we're together for our brief, every-few-years visits, it's like we saw each other only yesterday. I am so grateful for her long years of friendship and love.

She forwarded me an e-mail yesterday. I've done a bit of editing, but it says the same things I've so often said in these posts -- life is short. Life is uncertain. Tell people you love them NOW. Read on:

One day a woman's husband died, and on that clear, cold morning, in the warmth of their bedroom, the wife was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn't “anymore.” No more hugs, no more special moments to celebrate together, no more phone calls just to chat, no more "just one minute." Sometimes what we care about the most gets all used up and goes away, never to return before we can say good-bye, say "I love you."

So while we have it, it's best we love it, care for it, fix it when it's broken and heal it when it's sick. This is true for marriage.....And old cars.... And children with bad report cards, and dogs with bad hips, and aging parents and grandparents. We keep them because they are worth it, because we are worth it.

So I was thinking...I could die today, tomorrow or next week, and I wondered if I had any wounds needing to be healed, friendships that needed rekindling or three words needing to be said.

Let every one of your friends know you love them. Even if you think they don't love you back, you would be amazed at what those three little words and a smile can do.And just in case I'm gone tomorrow, I love you. Live today because tomorrow is not promised.

And the days keep rolling on...

It's been hot again here in Lake Woebegone -- er, Red Bluff.... gusting to 106 yesterday. It is supposed to plunge tonight to a high of only 82 tomorrow, and a possibility of showers for Monday. We'll see.

This is the time of year when everyone is sick to death of brown crunchy landscapes and hot temperatures. The trees have turned that desperate blue-green color of late summer, those that haven't already dropped their leaves and turned up their twigs in despair -- I worry about the pair at the front of the house because they look dead-dead-dead right now. Acorns are dropping, a good thing, since the deer don't have much left to eat and are looking mighty slender.

A family group visits around suppertime every day and includes a pair of twin fawns who largely have lost their spots now. When I come out to water the herbs and plants on the back patio, they prick up their ears and step closer in hopes that I'll toss out some peelings or past-their-prime veggies, not that I have a lot of those this year. I always worry about them too at this time of year, wondering if they'll make it until the rains come and grass starts growing again.

The vacation glow has worn off, although it stayed mostly through the first week back. Tony said while he was processing all the photos we shot that it made him want to go back to Bandon! Wish we were a little closer to the coast and the beautiful ocean. Even in the fog and rain, it is a wondrous sight, a reassuring constancy that no matter what else happens, it will be there, rolling in, rolling out.

You can see the coast pictures here -- taken by both of us.

Did I mention that the vacation rental we stayed in had 57 steps from the parking area to the door? Did I mention how our legs quivered after we climbed up them every day (and had to stop at least twice along the way?)

We were out and about every day, and made an excursion to Shore Acres State Park near Coos Bay. Gorgeous gardens with the ocean right there. Tony has a new lens and had a ball shooting pix; I used my trusty 18-200mm and got some nice ones too.

My flowers at Shore Acres, Tony's flowers.

Next foray will involve a trip back to Fayette, MO, the home of Central Methodist University, for my -- gasp -- 40th college graduation reunion. It oughta be an experience seeing all those old people, hm.

I'm hoping for a taste of fall weather there, and also that by some miracle the weather will change in the few days we'll be gone and that we'll be into fall weather here by the time we get back. (delusional, I know...)

We got to see our cutie-pie grandson last weekend for a few hours, and just marvel at how quickly children change, how quickly time passes as we age. All the time in the world that we had when we were young has now shrunk to something far too finite for comfort in some ways, and it makes us talk seriously of retirement and of doing things we hope to do, like more travel and more play. Not yet, we think, but not too far off either.

We have always felt that the Universe presents us with choices and options at the appropriate times, and that doesn't feel right just yet. Nonetheless, we are keeping our eyes and ears and minds open and watching. I feel a bit at loose ends right now about the "right" things for me to do, and seem to be reacting by not doing much of anything substantial. Little bits of writing here and there, little spurts of cleaning and refurbishing and weeding out stuff. We shall see what comes of it.

Meanwhile, we are in transition yet again from late summer into early fall, anticipating the rains and change, whatever it brings. One foot in front of the other, one day at a time, doing all we can to be where we are....