Making Adjustments

 

There is this funny thing about changes. No matter how much one might want a particular change, when it comes, it always brings a down side with it. That’s because change also means loss and adjustments. And although that knowledge is simple and reasonable, most of us don’t want to readily embrace its reality.

My Mother is in her new apartment. I knew that would mean a great many changes in my own routine and schedule. There are still lots of adjustments to be made as the unpacking continues, and new places must be found for old and familiar things. Yet, in only three days time, that empty apartment already is starting to feel familiar and cozy, as though she has been there for months instead of a few days.

That aside, however, I am aware that there are far more changes to come in the coming days and weeks. And many of those will impact directly on me and the way I live and order my own existence. I love the idea of being able to walk across the parking lot and visit with my Mom for a while, then come back home to my own space. I have done that each day so far. But doing it, has meant adjusting my own routine and how I spend my time right here where I live.

Am beginning to realize that that one small, but wonderful change, means even more changes. I love the fact that I have a bolt hole, an escape that can be accomplished with simple ease. I no longer have to make preparations two days ahead of time in order to visit with her. Nor do I any longer have to wait on someone else, the weather, or time, to do so. I can simply go and come back at my own choosing, or if she calls and needs something. Those are very real blessings and I am deeply grateful for them.

That also means I have a great deal more freedom in creating my own schedule. It is far easier to maintain whatever I feel I need to maintain in the process. But, as I said at the beginning, there are and can be some very real downsides to all of this. For example, before I had no vehicle, therefore was not an immediate source of care-giving responsibilities. That has changed drastically. Now, I have become a primary source because of that same convenience I just spoke about. And although I welcome that aspect of this particular change, I am also aware that it could swiftly turn into something else, something that might become a burden, or a source of resentment and more.

All these little (and not so little) adjustments make this present time period a bit of a bumpy road. Picking my way carefully is just another adjustment to be made. Sooner or later, things will once again calm down, settle in and become smooth, or at least a more familiar routine. In a way, I expect the best and the worse, and actually hope for something that falls in between those two points. Some will, while others won’t.

It’s all a bit exciting and tiring for everyone. Mom must sit and watch while we do the active work. That is extremely hard for her to do. She does, however, take her supervisory position very seriously, often adding a bit of teasing and laughter along with her instructions and wishes as to where and how things should go. And of course, after we all clear out, she walks through all her new rooms and moves small things around to give herself a feeling of accomplishment and participation.

Although I am aware of all the adjustments that might be needed in my own personal sphere, I am also aware that each of us connected with her have adjustments that must be taken into consideration. That’s an awful lot of juggling. But again, we will work it all through with time and a bit of patience. Maybe, for some, more than just a bit.

I am currently hearing that old Hank Williams Jr. song about An Attitude Adjustment. In the song, an adjustment seems to mean a hell of a good beating. The song is funny and always made me laugh. And its a very good reminder of where I don’t want to go with all these new and different changes. Making room for differences, allowing others to adjust as they need, and deep breathing for patience are just a few things needed in these present circumstances.

How we actually accommodate change is an interesting issue to explore and consider. Mainly because if we become aware of our own foibles in this arena, we may also be able to have the willingness to consider what others may be dealing with as well. I would hope that as this change ripples out and through our everyday lives, we can accomplish whatever needs to be done without beating the hell out of one another or ourselves.

That said, I think it might be possible that I will be humming that Hank Williams Jr. ditty for the next several weeks, maybe longer. Wish me luck.

Making Space

 

My last post here, was about my inner world, a space I have taken time to explore and develop. Today, I’d like to discuss another personal space that I have explored and developed, but one that is concrete and takes up time and energy in the real physical realm. Not a lot of either one of them, but suddenly far more important than I had already thought. That is my journal.

Yesterday, my sister and I went over to start packing up my Mother’s belongings for transfer to her new apartment which is across the parking lot from my own and in the same complex. We emptied the two hutches of all their glass treasures and knick-knacks. Some of these things have been around almost as long as I have and I have distinct memories about many of them.

Handling them, each one at a time, of course set off an entire complex and trail of thoughts. Some to do with the past, others to do with friends who have traveled a similar path while I watched and supported them from the sidelines. Even one about a very recent conversation concerning the dance between offspring and elderly parents as they make adjustments and reverse roles on many levels.

And of course, with my mother now ninety years old, there were thoughts concerning that other dance we do throughout our entire lives. That one about the reality of death and how much we avoid the topic and dance in and around and through it in so many ways.

Ernest Becker wrote a classic on the subject, The Denial of Death. I have read it through twice and have often gone back and skimmed through its pages looking for specific topics. The first time I read it was in a college philosophy course, a year after my father’s passing. I found it a treasure of explanation for the myriad of feelings and moods I had experienced and struggled through during and after that time period. It was also an anchor in creating the acceptance I was seeking.

And I know that it is time to go back and read it through again. Making space for the reality that is occurring might seem like courting some sort of disaster to many people. But the disaster would be in not creating that space, and then having to deal with it as though it were a sudden intrusion, come out of nowhere to destroy or disarrange my existence. This is happening and happening now, not somewhere off in a foggy ill-defined future. The best thing I can do for me, in these circumstances, is to prepare myself, emotionally and mentally for that reality.

I will do that by reading Ernest Becker’s book and making notes in my journal. Which, in a way, is simply fair warning that some of those notes may end up here, so be prepared. I just got up and went and retrieved the book from my library. It has been some time since I opened it and was surprised to find some passages underlined in black ink.

Not so much surprised at the underlining, but at the content I had underlined. It is about the connection between our fear of death and the development of heroism and the role it plays in that reality. If you have read much of this blog, you will be aware that the Hero Archetype is one of special interest to my person. That was the reason for my surprise. And perhaps the best hook I could have discovered for actually rereading the book at this time. Have I mentioned that I do so love synchronicity.

Back to the packing. All those thoughts and feelings from yesterday were put into my journal this morning. And I found myself intensely grateful that I have already made space and a habit out of that activity. I will be needing it in the days, weeks, and months ahead. It is a dear friend I can take along with me as I travel through all of these new pathways.

Yes, I do have friends and family members to help and support me through this time. But, I am also aware of how difficult it is for some individuals to discuss this subject matter, and I want that extra friend, that one that is always available, even in the dead of night, and will listen without critiquing what it is I am feeling and thinking.

I want and need that space known to me alone, where I feel safe, secure, and totally free to express whatever I need to express, be it grief, total exasperation or frustration, or to store those wonderful bits of memory that can be so satisfying long after the experience that generated them. With my journal as my daily companion, I have all of that and can use it with the ease of long practice. Although I have always appreciated my journal, sometimes long after the fact, I am suddenly profoundly grateful for it in new and deeper ways than ever before.

Perhaps you should be as well. After all, without it, much of those messy emotions and thoughts would probably end up on these pages instead.

Backtracking

 In response to Claudette’s Weekly Writing Challenge #8: Inner World
http://claudetteellinger.wordpress.com/

 

Have you ever had one of those days where you suddenly felt as though you unwittingly stepped through an invisible curtain and into an alternate Universe? Where everything seems the same, but it’s just a smidgeon out of sync? Like maybe you fell asleep for a moment and didn’t know it? And although you try to catch up, all you find is more of the same?

I can only hope that at least a few of you are nodding your heads in agreement. If not, I may be in an alternate Universe without a map or hope of getting back. I have just spent an hour doing some backtracking in my journal. Trying my best to figure out where I might have misstepped. That doesn’t mean I was rereading old pages.

As a matter of fact, I was writing on the current page and suddenly realizing those feelings I just wrote about. Several things occurred yesterday. Each one separate and distinct, yet all of them felt just that bit strange, just that bit out of sync. Because they happened at different times, and in different places, I didn’t really connect it all up until I was writing this morning. Backtracking on yesterday.

What does it mean to backtrack and why would anyone do such a thing? Backtracking is simply going back and checking the trail you have already covered. Looking for anything that might have been forgotten, misplaced, or even overlooked. In some realms, it is used to secure ones further progress. The fox is noted for traveling back in his own footprints, or those of others, to confuse any would be hunters.

But, you might say, we aren’t foxes, we are human beings. Just because we happen to be of another species, doesn’t mean we can’t learn a great deal from others that share, and exist within, the world we inhabit. For the fox, backtracking is an important aspect of continued survival. It could very well be the same for any individual.

Okay, so here I am, nose to the page, sniffing out what occurred yesterday, before setting off into today. What I found was a bit of confusion, multiplied, until I got just plain tired and withdrew. Withdrew into the world of color with the hopes of soothing slightly jangled nerve endings. At first, I thought it wasn’t working. The image didn’t come out the way I had originally seen it in my head. That happens a lot.

But it doesn’t mean failure. Colors speak, even as one is laying them down on paper. I have a tendency to listen. So, even though it didn’t proceed in the fashion I had intended, it did actually tell a story. And amazingly enough, the story had to do with what had occurred earlier in the day. Ahh, another form of backtracking, done, more or less, on an unconscious level.

I am not going to go into all of the details. That might be for another day, even another site. Suffice to say, I did complete the image. Wasn’t really satisfied and turned to another one. Knew what I wanted and found it. Didn’t finish it, but got a good start, and best of all, the ease I had been looking for to begin with. But all of that stayed in the back of my mind as I was journaling this morning. And it was well worth the backtracking on all levels.

I could just as easily have let that knot of confusion sit, stay tangled and tied up. But, that would have meant I’d be tired again today. Not the way to start a new day, at least not the way I want to start a new day. What was tied up in that knot is my energy level. To leave it sit and try to move forward is to hamper my own progress. So a few minutes of backtracking is well worth the effort to insure my own sense of security as I traverse this new space called today.

My inner world is a fascinating and rich tapestry of color, wild creatures, memory, and even a few fire-breathing dragons. It is woven together with a thread of words that often asks questions, creates new and different definitions, as well as formulating possible answers. Confusion, like a heavy velvet curtain, can obstruct that view, muffle whatever message might be emanating from within it. I personally think that would be a loss, not just to me, but to the small piece of the world I inhabit.

We all have an inner world, that private space within our psyche. Some of us ignore it completely, others, like myself, find a great deal to be learned in exploring all of its nooks and crannies. The kind of backtracking I have been discussing here, couldn’t take place without some knowledge of its existence. The backtracking I did this morning paid off in a release from that knot of confusion as that heavy velvet curtain slid back on its well-oiled rollers.

What did I find? Perhaps another dragon.

Picking Up The Pace

 

My journal does a lot of things for me. It makes me aware of where I have been, what I have done, teaches me about myself and my life. Helps me to keep track of my friends and my feelings at moments. This morning, it helped me remember all of those things, especially what day it is.

Have you ever done that? Awakened and become aware that you are not quite sure what day of the week you are operating in? I did that this morning, sort of stumbling through my usual routine, but kind of confused because thoughts about what was supposed to be going on today were blending into tomorrow and yesterday. I finally stopped when I got to my journal page because I realized I just couldn’t think of exactly where I was.

So, I read through yesterday’s page. No wonder I was confused. A great deal has been happening. Lots of changes and alterations looming on the horizon. People, both friends and family, with life altering health issues, a huge possible move for one with daily implications of change for me personally. And a small incident that happened in my home, that I wasn’t even aware of until last night. Nothing major, just a bit stunned that I missed it completely.

Spring is definitely shaking the moth balls out of her green skirt. And I don’t think I’m quite ready for her arrival. I had gotten nicely comfortable with my quiet slow-paced winter days and evenings. Now, it seems, suddenly that is all at an end. And here I am, just wanting to sit down and relax for a few minutes. Nothing to do but pick up the pace and hope it all happens as smoothly as possible.

It’s funny. I write this blog about keeping a journal because it is what I know about, have taught, and really believe it is genuinely important for all kinds of reasons. Then suddenly get slapped in the face with the reality of just how important it can be and is to me, personally. I really don’t want to miss a day because of confusion or any other reason. I only have so many of them and that makes each one important.

My Mother is ninety years old. She does really well, but is also slipping a bit and its becoming apparent to all of us. She doesn’t always remember things, people, or aspects of her own history. She needs more of our attention and we have figured out a way to accomplish that without limiting her sense of independence and freedom. She is also a very proud lady and we take pride in all of that.

At the same time, that all reminds me of my own age and thoughts about my own future. I take pride in the same things my mother does. And although I have been keeping a journal for many many years, I am far more aware of its importance now, then ever before. A very long time ago, I read that one of the major issues about aging is keeping the mental faculties alert. I decided that keeping a journal would be, for me, a cornerstone in my own process of preparing for that reality. I am so glad that I did.

The few minutes I spent reading yesterday’s journal page, put me back on track and even helped me decide what I need to get done today. I could have just kept stumbling through, hoping that at some point, I’d make it around the corner and it would all fall in place again. It’s scary to think there might come a day when it doesn’t. There are very good reasons why people fear old age, and that is one of the biggest of them.

At the moment, I am old, but not yet elderly. Personally, I intend to push those limits for as long as possible. Which means I will continue to challenge myself and my mental faculties wherever possible. I did that yesterday, as a matter of fact. I invited Diddums to send me some of her art to use as inspiration on my poetry site. She graciously and promptly agreed. You can find the results at:

http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/

and you can find Diddums at:

http://diddums.wordpress.com/

My journal is looking somewhat like an anchor in all of that, at this moment. Perhaps, more a key. Yup, I like that definition better. An anchor is meant to limit movement, or to at least slow it down. A key holds the promise of further possibilities. The same sort of possibilities held in those green skirts that Spring is shaking loose. I might have thought, even wished, that she would hold off for a while, but I certainly can’t hold her back from doing and being exactly what she is: an invitation to new beginnings.

So, take a deep breath, pick up the pace, and whatever you do, don’t forget that key.

Singing A New Song?

In response to Claudette’s weekly writing challenge #7: Song.

Now that I have finished the 101 list of things about myself, I want to take the time to make some comments about the actual doing of it. It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be. I thought I would get to #50 something and run out of steam. That wasn’t the case at all. The hard part was choosing which things I would put in, and which ones might be best to leave out.

If I had been doing the exercise in my journal, it might have gone differently. I’m sure there would have been other things on the list, and the list might have been a great deal longer (aren’t you glad I stuck to the limit). Not many of us want to take off our clothes in public, although I do know that some seem to be able to do so with ease. Sometimes I admire, even envy that outlook, but then there are times when I think there is a great deal to be said for privacy.

What I did find interesting was the synchronicity that fueled what went into the list. Each portion of the list was dictated, to some extent, by the things that were happening to and around me. That happens a lot in my journal writing, but it became hard to miss it in this more public arena.

Synchronicity is how I can see that I am in the right place, doing the right thing for me, personally. When it is absent, I get worried that I have gone off on a tangent and might lose my way. So, when things began to rapidly connect and go smoothly with the actual doing of the list, I sort of relaxed and began to enjoy it.

And of course, that is precisely when I started getting signals that it was time to start singing another song. Some of that was incorporated into the list itself (especially the portions about following the signs and symbols, and the one on bravery). It became apparent that I was being led toward a new endeavor, and to be perfectly honest, I simply dug in my heels and said, “Whoa! I don’t think I really want to do that.”

I began to list all of my objections, and although somewhat reasonable, they weren’t all that convincing, lol. That bit of resistance (bit, did I say?), cost me a couple of days of depression, as well as colors that wouldn’t speak to me or one another. Just another signal I wanted to ignore but couldn’t because it was curtailing my own personal pleasure in what I do. Ahhh, the messes we so easily make.

What this all comes down to is that I have created and posted to a new blog. Yes, another one. This one is called Intuitive Paths: Following the Signs and Symbols, and can be found at

http://intuitivepaths.wordpress.com/

I will continue to post here concerning writing, especially journal writing and staying with it, as well as posting to my poetry site, but the subject matter at the new site will be things concerned with enhancing and developing stronger intuitive skills and abilities. In other words, I will be adding an old (to me), but new song to my schedule of blogging interests.

In the 101 list, I mentioned that I am an abuse survivor. People survive because they become intensely alert and aware of their surroundings and the potential for danger or harm. That is an intuitive skill which one can read about in Gavin DeBecker’s The Gift of Fear. We do get signals from our surroundings constantly, but we often ignore them or fail to realize what they might mean. That is true when it comes to danger, but can also be applied to normal everyday life.

Our world is filled with signs and symbols. We encounter them on a daily ongoing basis. But, they do us no good if we haven’t taken the time to learn that symbolic language and how it might pertain to our own person. Intuition works on rapid connective links. But we must provide the links. When we are in fear of danger or harm, we learn rapidly, because we can’t survive unless we do. Taking the time to learn some of the symbolic language that surrounds us constantly creates new connective links. Ones that pertain to our individual paths and journeys.

Some of the paths I have used are Dream Work, Body Language (have you watched the new series Lie to Me), Mythology in all of its forms, The Tarot (for self-exploration, not divination), Archetypes, and several other things. I find Symbolism fascinating and rewarding in exploring my own experiences, often finding deeper and more concrete understanding in the process. Those are the topics I intend to explore on this new site.

They were also an integral part of the signs and symbols that led me to the decision to do such a thing. They were there in the 101 list as I wrote it. Things that only I would know and recognize, pay attention to, and connect with. I would encourage  each of you to do a 101 list just for that reason alone. I don’t mean on a blog necessarily, but in the privacy of your journal for sure.

We can only ever know our own person. But, by knowing that, we are opened to knowing others. We can not really know everything there is to know, and that is true about ourselves as well. Each moment is new, yet connected to all the other moments, both past and future. When you think of it that way, how important could a 101 list be to advancing your understanding? Who knows, you might find out you have more than one song to sing, more than just one note to add to the chorus of life?

Headed Into The Home Stretch

 

#76. One of my all time favorite movies is Terminator II. I particularly like the humor and the special effects.

#77. It’s been a long time since I’ve been out to see a movie.

#78. For a long time, years, I avoided pizza. Think I had too much of it and just stopped liking it. It’s back on my menu now. Especially fresh-baked and at the pizzeria. Which means it’s still a long time between enjoyments.

#79. I used to bite my nails terribly. All through childhood and into adulthood. In my thirties, I went on a long-term food plan and simply stopped doing it. No conscious effort or thought process involved. I think I had some very strange food issues, lol.

#80. I really dislike it when someone tells me what they want me to do before asking me if I will consider it.

#81. I am very short, only five feet and one inch tall. Although I have often dreamed about having long slim legs, I find being a short person somewhat of an advantage. Most people are not afraid of short individuals, which means they are often surprised.

#82. Because of a back condition, I have to use those battery operated carts when I go shopping. Yes, I have taken out end displays once or twice.

#83. I have been to Montana four times and would love nothing better than to go again. Don’t want to live there, just look.

#84. I find the green, in my home state of Wisconsin, recognizably different from any other place I have ever been. Deeper and more satisfying.

#85. I find the color brown, in all of its varying shades, to be under-rated and too often dismissed. It can be, and is, incredibly striking and beautiful.

#86. I love long rides to nowhere. Destinations, too often, get in the way of complete enjoyment.

#87. I am selfish, especially with my time and energy. What’s more, I see that as a virtue, for the most part.

#88. I like one on one experiences and do not like crowds. I miss too much and begin to feel claustrophobic.

#89. I do not like discussing politics. I find it, too often, a power playing device.

#90. My father passed away over twenty years ago and I still miss him and think about him often. He took me fishing and I was his fishing buddy for years. He was a quiet, gentle man and taught me a great deal, through his actions, about ethics and the things I would need to know, later on in life.

#91. I am a fairly good story-teller if I can stay on track long enough to get to the finish line.

#92. I am the only one of four siblings who was named after my Mother’s siblings. My first name belonged to my Mother’s youngest sister. My middle name was first owned by her oldest one. Both of those women, my aunts, made deep and lasting impressions on me.

#93. My grandmother had nine children and fifty-six grandchildren. Those, in turn, gave her well over a hundred great-grandchildren by the time she died at age 94. That is quite a legacy.

#94. My father was put out for adoption when he was six-months old, then placed in foster care when he was four, due to the Depression. He did re-unite with his biological family as an adult and had a strong bond with his brother who looked a great deal like him.

#95. I think it is a top priority to get to know oneself before attempting to understand others. One is far more apt to be forgiving and truly empathetic if one has done so.

#96. I love fresh apples dipped in caramel sauce.

#97. I use my scanner to get some distance on my coloring projects, both during the process and afterward. It really helps to actually see what is happening and how it might all work.

#98. I have become rather methodical about all of the paper work I do, both the writing and the coloring. I file and label everything. Now, if only I could even begin to do that with all the other stuff in my life.

#99. Color has its own language and I am finally learning how to really listen to it, when it speaks. It knows where it does and doesn’t belong and says, “maybe, maybe not” when there is any hint of a doubt.

#100. I do watch American Idol, and if I had to explain why, we might be here for another 101 list.

#101. I am finished. I am pleased about that and it was far less nerve wracking then I thought it would be. I have learned a great deal, discovered areas I need to look more closely at, and have accumulated several more clean, plastic, ice-cream tubs, but no takers.

By the way, I saw my counselor this past week and told her about doing this list. She was astounded that I would even attempt such a thing. It is extremely gratifying to know that, at my age, I can still astound or mystify anyone.

About Bravery

In response to Claudette’s Weekly Writing Challenge #6: Bravery

#71. I am a coward. A coward is one who does not put him/herself in a place of possible danger, be that physically, mentally, or emotionally. I am terrified of heights, and I avoid them. Although I know that it is possible to overcome such fears, I make no attempt to do so on this one. I prefer to simply steer clear of high places. Which makes my life a bit difficult at times. I love the mountains and travel. Flying is an incredibly difficult thing for me to do, and I haven’t done it in years and may never do it again.

A very long time ago, I read something in a work of fiction that has stayed with me, even though I forget the title of the novel and its author. It was about being grateful for being a coward. In the book, one of the characters was facing into an extremely difficult situation and came to the conclusion that a coward is lucky to be so, because all a coward needs is courage. Courage is the ability to proceed, even knowing that the outcome is not favorable.

Sometimes when a coward hesitates to act, he/she may only be gathering courage. Acknowledging the very real fear or, even present danger. A coward always knows when he/she is being a coward. They might side-step that reality with excuses and false reasoning, but they do know. And we all have those moments of hesitation, sometimes they last too long and the opportunity is lost.

In the book, the character reasoned that only a coward needs courage and that each time he/she becomes aware of that tendency toward cowardice, what is really happening is that the individual is giving self the opportunity to choose to be courageous. Sometimes we are, sometimes we are not.

#72. I have been courageous in the past. I flew to Las Vegas and back four years ago. I flew to San Francisco and back alone, about 11 years ago. I drove through the mountains several times because if one is on a road trip and heading for Montana, one must drive through the mountains. So, although I can and do admit that I am a coward, I know that I can and have been courageous enough to overcome my fears and could do that again.

Back to the story. The character reasoned that brave people don’t need courage, they have their bravery. Bravery is the willingness to fight, no matter the odds, and do so with the conviction of ones beliefs, so one simply heads into the fray believing that one will win because one is in the right. In other words, standing up and acting is more important than the outcome, or the possible danger involved.

#73. I am brave. For me, personally, one of the bravest things any individual can do is to break their silence. Speak aloud the things that have not been said, especially when the topic has been forbidden, write about ones personal truths, and thereby, take a stand against whatever comes of it. I do that on a daily basis, each time I write.

I am exploring those things that I was taught were off-limits. Putting my need to understand first, regardless of the consequences. That is one of the reasons I can so easily admit to my cowardice. It’s real, it’s my personal truth, and it doesn’t change over time. It is who I am. Yes, I have tested those truths. Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose. That just makes me human.

But, I also know that there are certain topics and issues that I will not back down from, or walk away, without first saying whatever I think needs to be said. Or, write whatever words need to be written. And ironically enough, I don’t see that as bravery, I see it as a solid piece of who I am and what I know I will always stand up for.

#74. I am and will always be a student. In the story, as the character made his/her way through all of this pondering about bravery, cowardice, and courage, I applauded the reasoning, and for me, the explanation. So much so, that it became a cornerstone of my existence. It was there when I first began to write and scared myself silly at some of the things that I was writing about. It is still there today, as I worry about how well this blog will be received and if these words will be heard and understood. And it has been there every time I hear that voice in my head that says, “What will people think?”

#75. If I live my life always worried about what others might, or might not think, I will never move again. That would be complete and utter cowardice. Although I am a coward about heights, I am also aiming at wholeness. That in turn means, I am a brave coward, sometimes in desperate need of courage.

Back To The List

 

52. I like to be a little early for any type of appointment. That way I can relax and catch my breath before jumping into anything.

53. I am an abuse survivor and that makes a difference in everything I do, see, and think.

54. Survival makes you strong in places that others don’t know they need to be, but it also makes you aware of just how fragile life truly is.

55. I have very few regrets and I find that amazing.

56. Being a survivor, the Freedom to Choose is a basic cornerstone of my belief system. I try, very hard, to offer that to everyone I come in contact with, because I prize it so highly.

57. That means that I am constantly in need of checking my own actions toward others. I can manipulate as well as anyone else and am aware that the best I can do is curb that desire within me. I do succeed, but not always.

58. Honesty is also an important element for me. That stems from the past, but will continue to affect much of the way I see, do, and think. I don’t think that is a negative thing, I see it as a lesson with a great deal of value that only increases with time.

59. I think that each of us is here for a reason and a purpose. It might take an entire lifetime to discover what those are, but I don’t think there is much of value without that knowledge.

60. I would like to think that ice cream is a top priority for existence, but it just doesn’t ring true, you know what I mean?

61. I think one of the hardest things to do is to watch your children make some of the choices they must make to learn how to be whoever they will become.

62. Sometimes, the best support and encouragement one can give is to choose to keep ones mouth shut.

63. I will be 63 years old in April. When the hell did that happen?

64. Because of #63, I can say with complete and utter sincerity, that it is never too late for anything.

65. The possibility of feeling foolish, or looking silly is never a good reason to not attempt something. Better to look a fool than to be one.

66. Allowing oneself the opportunity to look foolish is usually the first step in learning something very important. Besides, it usually makes for a good story with shared laughter and that’s not a bad price to pay for doing so.

67. Symbolism exists all around us. If we fail to learn that language, we may miss at least half, if not more of our existence and its true meaning.

68. “That’s just the way things are and nothing can be done about it,” is the cry of a defeatist, but should be seen as a challenge to anyone who hears it.

69. I loved teaching, and was terrified that if I did it, I would look or appear to be foolish. I felt that way every moment I first stood in front of a classroom or group of people. I learned how to talk myself past that feeling.

70. I love words, their meanings, history, and uses. I seldom get the last one, which is probably why I love blogging so much.

It’s Tuesday

 

I haven’t been here for a few days. It got a bit heavy and now it’s just plain hectic. The heaviness happened because I was worrying about things that I have no control over. Why do we do that? I think it’s because we have a strong desire, sometimes need, to act on the things that concern us. When they are outside of our control sphere, we worry about them instead because that gives us a sense of doing something about it. We are searching for a solution. Even though, somewhere inside of us, we know there is no way we are going to find one. That’s what it means when its outside of our control.

I did what I could. I wrote about it and that dissipated the heaviness and allowed me to do other things. One of the best reasons for keeping a journal, I think. Leaving all the garbage on the page and walking away freer and lighter in the process. It’s also one of the most basic reasons for not allowing others to peruse those pages. Do you really want someone else nosing through your garbage? Bringing up to the surface all that stuff that rightfully belongs at the bottom of the bag, rightfully buried along with the smell?

Am I saying that what goes in a journal is garbage, of no further value except as landfill? Yes and no. The value is in being able to sort it out, allowing the self to discern what is important from what is totally outside ones sphere of control or in ones best interests.

Clearing the ground where one lives is an essential for a better and smoother existence. Not only that, but clearing the ground is the first step in building whatever is to be created. And that’s not small potatoes, seeing as we are creating ourselves.

I could have skipped the page yesterday. Certainly felt like doing that. Didn’t and it changed whatever followed. That might have happened eventually, anyway, but not in that small amount of time. I could have gone on worrying for days. It’s so easy to do.

Instead, I am free and clear to do what needs to be done today. That’s a really good feeling. And it also raises my spirits and my outlook for this moment and even the next. As I said at the beginning of this post, today is hectic, so I intend to be brief.

Hope you have a good Tuesday and also do some sorting. Clarissa Pinkola Estes says that sorting this from that is one of the important tasks of building ones intuition. Think about that for a moment. Intuition is essential in the process of self-preservation. If you need them today, will your hands be ready? Or will they be filled with yesterday’s garbage? Yuck.