Expectations and Rose-Colored Realities

 

I watched David Cook on American Idol last night. My journal, this morning, is filled with my personal reactions to doing so. Not sure exactly what my expectations were in the moment, but I was once again, mesmerized, feeling a bit foolish, yet eager to see and have my senses satisfied. They were and they were not.

That’s the problem with expectations. They are so wide open, so hopeful with a cloud of possibilities that seemingly go on into an unknowable future. But, also laced with at least a fifty percent chance of failure, often more. Yet, we go on creating them, fantasizing over those possibilities and sometimes investing ourselves emotionally, and otherwise, into what is essentially a long shot at best.

When they, as they most often do, fail to materialize, we spiral downward into disappointment, sometimes depression. Think ourselves foolish or worse, for placing our emotional well-being in what is essentially nothing more than a dream, a rose-colored reality where all things wished and wanted suddenly come true.

Is that an accurate assessment? Yes. And, no. Hope is a necessity. Without it, we simply become lumps of energy forever stuck in a gray world that lacks all color. We move, but our movement lacks meaning because it doesn’t have a goal or a purpose. We trudge through our gray world, never looking up, unable to see whatever might be in front of us. What is always in front of us, are other possibilities.

That may be what is wrong with expectations. They are a narrow path, leading only to what we want, not necessarily to what we need. And because the want is so deep and strong, we fool ourselves into thinking it is a need, the only one. That one, that if it is fulfilled will make the rest of our sojourn not just palatable, but filled with contentment and enough excitement to last forever. That is a fantasy. Life doesn’t work that way on a moment to moment basis.

Life is a balancing act of ups and downs, joys and pains, laughter and sadness, and all the other opposites one can think of. It doesn’t run smoothly for more than a short time, no matter how much we may want it to do so. And because expectations are, for the most part, very narrow paths, when we get caught up in them, we fail to prepare for those other eventualities.

A lot of expectations center around other people. Other people doing what we want them to do. In the process, we forget that each individual has choices, a life of their own, people and things to be accounted for and to. As I wrote in my journal this morning, I realized that I simply wanted more time to watch David Cook. I want to sit down and talk to him, ask him questions about his journey, hear the small details of how that journey has changed and altered him.

I will never meet David Cook. If I did, I’d blow it and become completely tongue-tied and probably just stare at him with my mouth hanging open. Not a pretty image. He’d walk away, disgusted at this waste of his time, and probably thinking something quite derogatory about old women who have too much time on their hands. Would his assessment be accurate? Yes and no, perhaps.

Yes, I am an old woman and one that is fascinated by this man’s journey because it has impacted on my own. If you want to know how that came to be, you will have to go back to the beginnings of this blog. For right now, we are discussing expectations. And some of mine were fulfilled last evening. I wanted to know if I still experienced a connection with his person and his music. I did and do.

The song that he sang, Come Back To Me, has a big piece of my own story inside of it. I’d not heard it before and was surprised to find soft tears falling as he sang it. When members of the audience screamed out that they loved him, and he immediately responded with, “I love you, too!”, I laughed because that was a 100% David Cook response. So, yes, I am still connected to the man and his music. And no, he has no idea and never will. That’s the way it should be.

Which brings us to realistic expectations. One of the reasons I have them is because I keep a journal. It is always amazing to me, how easy it is to see the fantasy versuss the reality when one actually writes the words down in black and white. Those rose-colored images actually have clouds of pink mist floating around and through them. Makes it so much easier to see.

The reality may be far more mundane, but it is also easier to accept than getting lost in all that mist and coughing at its fumy presence. Which, by the way, is probably what I would do if I ever came face to face with David Cook, have a coughing fit, or faint, something I have never done in my life. Which, as far as I am concerned, simply means that David Cook is an extremely lucky man for being totally oblivious to my existence.

So, where does that leave me with all of my expectations. Surprisingly satisfied. Disappointed that he was only on for less than ten minutes, but happily aware that his journey continues with a platinum record under his arm. Happy to realize that my journey will also continue and that, on occasion, I may sit down in front of my TV and catch a glimpse of the only connection I have with him. That is reality as it should be, and I am more than happy to allow it to remain so.

Those rose-colored clouds leave a residue of dust behind that simply mean more dusting and cleaning to be done. I am so not into that.

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.

The Second Twenty Percent

 

On my last blog, I started a list of 101 things about me. When I came here this morning I had lots of ideas, but nothing concrete. So, I will continue my list.

21. I am a very intense sort of person. When I am interested, you have my full undivided attention. That also means that when I’m ‘into’ something, I might not respond or even hear my name being called. My older sister once told me that she envies that quality about me. That I often bite off more than I can chew and when I find that it’s too much, I simply spit it out and go find something else to sink my teeth into.

22. I used to paint. We lived in an old five bedroom, two story farm house out in the county. I took over an upstairs bedroom and my husband built me an easel. I wasn’t very good at it because I had little training, but figured I would learn as I went along. And although I was focused for a time, I also had four children running loose and couldn’t keep track of them while doing the painting.

23. Which is one of the reasons I love the coloring I started doing some months ago. I get to enjoy all the fun of choosing the colors, watching the design come alive under my fingers, but none of the hassle and work of figuring it all out from scratch, especially placement.

24. Although I am a good listener, I am definitely a visual person. Instructions, without pictures, usually are wasted on me. I need to “see” what you mean before I fully comprehend.

25. Dogs and other animals love me and I, them. I have had incredible experiences with both domesticated and wild creatures. I speak to them and believe that, on occasion, they speak to me.

26. I make the best raspberry pie. Got the recipe from my grandmother, and like her had an entire raspberry patch in my yard. I loved to go out there early in the morning with my tri-colored collie and watch as he barked once and all the little black birds would rise up in a cloud of beating wings. He loved it too and was always pleased at the amount of power he wielded.

27. I am a fairly good, but lazy cook. Which means when I make homemade pasties, I buy the already made and rolled dough for the crust.

28. I love wooden boxes and decorative tins. I think that might have to do with my pack rat issues, or my need to keep things contained in some fashion. Not so much ordered, as given a place to belong.

29. Although I love jewelry, I seldom wear it. I do wear a small silver ring on the pinkie of my right hand. It is the face of an owl and my daughter gave it to me when she was about 13 or 14. She just turned 30. My nephew gave me a beautiful ring for Christmas a couple of years ago. It also is silver and has blue stones in it. Those are the only pieces of  jewelry I wear on a daily basis.

30. I really miss my fat lady clothes. I have never thought of myself as a clothes horse type person, and yet, now that I’ve lost so much weight, I am reluctant to go shopping for new ones.

31. Casual dresser, that’s me. I really like feeling comfortable. I have not worn a dress in over twenty years, even at my children’s weddings.

32. I learned how to ice skate because I could sing. We lived across the street from a city park that provided an ice rink every winter. I would go with my siblings, put on my skates, stand up and someone would grab my hand and ask me to sing one of the current popular songs, pulling me around the rink as I did so. Some of my older brother’s friends would give me a nickel if I sang certain songs. Ahhhh, if only they had had American Idol back then.

33. But then, I wouldn’t be a writer, a poet, and a blogger. There is always something to be said about timing.

34. I have a steel pin/plate in my head from a car accident when I was four years old. The scar on the left side of my head has shaped me in ways nothing else could have. It is u-shaped and shelters my ear and I now see it as a symbol, a gift from the Universe that set me apart for particular purposes and reasons.

35. I use a cane on those days when I feel a bit unsteady, but haven’t needed it much since the weight loss. It hangs on the door knob at the entrance of my apartment. I think some people think its no more than a weird aspect of my interior decorating skills, or lack there of.

36. College was one of the best experiences of my life. I started when I was 37 years old and it took me seven years to complete my four year degree. I was still raising children at the time, and also working.

37. I did two majors in college, one in History and the other in English. I also did a minor in Women’s Studies. It was the first time in my life that I was told I had a fine mind and had been whole-heartedly given permission to use it in whatever manner I chose.

38. One of my deepest desires is to go on learning until the moment of my death, and hopefully beyond it.

39. I have a very strong spiritual belief system, but am not religious.

40. I finished another tub of ice cream last night (not in one sitting), so am still looking for people with leftovers.

Letting It All Go

 

Have you ever noticed how easy it is to let go of some things? Yet, almost impossible to let go of others? Take personal disciplines, for example. If you’ve been doing it for years and the discipline has become second nature to engage in, one can feel lost and completely out of sorts when that discipline is skipped even one time and for completely valid reasons. On the other hand, a newly chosen discipline, even when it is working excellently and gaining whatever goal it was intended to facilitate, can slip through our fingers faster than a greased substance of any kind.

A diet and weight loss is one such discipline. There is an incredible amount of energy used to sustain such a discipline because it must be done each day without let up. It is an ongoing thing and one that begs to be let go of on almost every day, sometimes every moment of every day. It is just plain hard work. Even when it has been wildly successful.

Thirty years ago, I went on a food plan and joined a weight loss program. No one was more startled or amazed than myself when I actually hit my goal weight. It took over a year, and each day was a battle against old habits and temptations that occurred at least three times a day. I managed to maintain the loss for almost three years, give or take a few pounds here and there. But then something happened. My dog died.

I know that sounds like a flimsy excuse at best, but I came apart in pieces. The dog was my emotional support and he was suddenly gone. I cried, of course, but then found that I couldn’t stop crying. And eventually I reverted back to my primary coping mechanism which was eating. Carbohydrates are heavy, heavy enough to hold down and suppress ones emotions. I stopped crying eventually, but the food program had gone out the window along with the scale and all the other paraphernalia, mainly the mind set and willingness necessary to continue.

Now, it’s thirty some years later and I have lived long enough to see just the opposite occur. I have made a lot of changes in my life and attitudes, and my daily living experiences over the past two years. I have put on several new disciplines which I partake in on a daily basis. And whallah, as I have found emotional satisfaction, spiritual and mental growth, the weight has simply melted away without any particular effort on my part.

Ah, but I am back at that place where the temptation is strong to let go of all of it. To let it slip on occasion, here and there, and I do know the danger and recognize all of the symptoms. Strangely enough, it isn’t any easier being happy, then it was being thin. Actually, it’s even harder at the moment, because I am both happy and almost thin to boot. Talk about a sudden greased slide appearing at ones feet without any fore warning or indications of its presence.

There are a few things that are helping me sustain both the contentment and the weight loss. One of them is the very real mental image of where I was to begin with. It isn’t hard to remember that not all that long ago, I was a couch potato, sitting in the living room, watching American Idol, reading non-stop, sometimes during the commercials, lol. That’s not a place I want to go back to, ever.

Yes, I got something very important from that reality. It got me up and out of the chair, and eventually even out of the books I was constantly reading. It propelled me into this place in which I now exist and don’t want to lose. But there are other things that also help me to stay in this place. My own strong desire to continue my own journey, if for no other reason than to see where it will all take me. I’m not done yet, and it would be such a shame to leave this new path and all of its promise, for what? An easy chair?

There are all of the new friends I have made. If I let go of this place, I would have to let go of them as well. And they have so much to teach me, and I have so much to give in return. It wouldn’t just hurt me, but others, and that is something I try to avoid at all cost.

But the most important thing that keeps me from letting go and sliding down that greased chute is my journal. It keeps me aware and alert. Let’s me know what I am really thinking and feeling. Allows me to actually see the danger I am in. And that danger is very real. My physical health depends on my maintaining the weight loss through control of my diet. My spiritual and emotional health and well being depends on my continued efforts to maintain these new disciplines I have put into place. And by the way, I didn’t actually know or define them as such when I put them in place.

My journal however, carried that message and made sure I finally comprehended it. And its blank pages keep asking a very simple but complex question. Why would I choose to give this all up? To once again become a couch potato? Because its so much easier to be a couch potato. A couch potato who wouldn’t be aware of that greased chute until she hit the bottom with a horrendous thud and probably a completely broken existence. Ah, now there’s a very real mental image.

Reality is, I would have to give up my very best friend in order to really let go of any or all of this new life I have created. That would be me, me and the journal that keeps me aware and alert with a desire to continue.

Final Accounting: 2008

 

Today is the last day of this year, 2008. I have spent some time, looking back on the days, weeks, and months that are passing into my personal history, perhaps better labeled herstory. This has been an incredible year, an extremely good one. Looking back on it has been a mostly satisfying pleasure. My life has changed, and I have changed with it. Challenges met and overcome, dreams fulfilled, and new avenues of experience risked and met with success.

I started the year in a sort of fog, settling down in front of the TV with an unconscious, but strong inner urge to become just another couch potato. If I wasn’t watching the boob tube, I was reading yet another murder mystery, completely oblivious to the fact that I was well into committing my own form of soul murder. I wasn’t writing at all, the pen and its demands had been given up for activities that were far less demanding of any thought, let alone process.

Then came American Idol and David Cook. Bless you David. I know that you don’t know me, don’t have a clue what you did for me, but I will always be grateful, none the less. You got me up and out of that overstuffed rocking chair and back on the page. Back inside this thing I really love to do, and am quite good at. But, and this might be the most important part, I was back in a very new and different way. Awakenings are wonderful things, or can be, if we allow them.

Then the doctor diagnosed the beginnings of diabetes. What a shock that was, even though I knew that I was an excellent candidate because my father had had it and my oldest daughter has it as well. New regimens: diet, and daily blood sugar counts. Although I don’t enjoy poking myself everyday, I have done it, without fail and reaped many rewards. A new awareness of my own physical reality, a weight loss that continues and has allowed me to drop five sizes in my clothing, and a much deeper respect for my own ability to follow through and stick with it, staying inside the present moment.

I started counseling and have found it to be very satisfying as well. Letting someone else see my emotional well-being, or lack of it, has given me new perspectives on most of what has happened over the past year, as I’ve listened to an objective voice that is constant in its support and ongoing encouragement, a voice that often asks those questions I don’t even consider, or see, as important.

I began blogging in June. All new territory and one that led me here, to this site, and a deep committment to continue to explore my own personal space while encouraging others to do the same. And one that also led me back to my first love: poetry. I have written well over sixty prose articles on this site, but have also written a great deal of new poetry, exploring and finding new ways of expressing myself. Allowing myself to be prompted and challenged in several different directions.

That, in turn, has also led to the establishment of another new blog: 
 http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/ which will be centered around my poetry and the music that feeds me. I will post there for the first time, tomorrow, on the first day of the New Year. My first post will be titled A Woman of Color, and inadvertentlycelebrates yet another new endeavor I have stumbled into. Coloring. Laying down colors and watching the patterns come alive beneath my fingers. It is closely associated with laying down words and watching the patterns come alive with meaning and awareness. I would hope that you come and take a look and drop a comment or two.

Along with all these new disciplines and activities which constantly challenge me, I have recovered a number of old friendships and deepened each of them, so that they feel new, but also have the comfort and strength of familiarity. Each one has meant a deeper commitment to my own life and has afforded me the opportunity to re-establish this person I call Elizabeth, that one who was getting lost in that overstuffed rocking chair in my living room (I haven’t watched more than a few hours (maybe four or five total) of TV in the past three months, and have read only two and a half books in that same time period).

I have also had the pleasure of creating several new friendships, here online. Meeting diverse new individuals and finding common ground is exciting and challenges me in other and different ways. I have been able to teach, encourage, and to learn, all at the same time, and with the ease of doing so from my own comfortable little space called home.

All in all, this has been a year of awakenings on many levels. It has led me here, to the beginning of a New Year that is filled with the brightness of hope and even more opportunities to learn and to experience. I was recently prompted to write about daring to dream, and found that I couldn’t, didn’t seem to have a feel for the topic and came up blank with no more than fading dribbles that went nowhere. Maybe, because so many of my personal dreams have found fulfillment in this past year, and the very real fact that I am now living inside of those dreams. They are my reality, continuing to feed and nurture even more of the same and bringing them to fruition. There is no daring involved, there is only new and deeper life and meaning.

An Example of Synchronicity

One of the rewards of being a teacher assigning exercises within the classroom, was my choice to do those exercises right along with my students. Many of them were shocked at that practice, and even more so when I would take my turn to read the outcome right alongside theirs. I felt that it drastically reduced that whole dynamic of me as someone above, or in some superior position. I truly wanted them to know that even though I might have been doing this thing far longer than they, I still had to struggle with it on occasion and stumble through embarrassing moments of sudden realization, just as they did. It seriously reduced the amount of tension inherent in such a situation, but also increased both the intensity and depth of participation.

That said, I am going to offer you, the reader, an example of synchronicity. I am aware that it might be a difficult concept to wrap ones head around and I also want you to get the best understanding I can offer. And just as I did in my classroom, my example will be drawn from my own personal experience. In my Introduction, I briefly outlined some of the circumstances that led me to this space and the writing of this blog. My example is drawn from some of the details involved in that experience.

I moved back here, to the city of my birth, a little over a year ago. With my physical disability, and the current situation in my family of origen, my energy levels were sorely depleted and I got sick. During that recovery, I spent most of my time, reading, sleeping, eating, and watching television, an activity I had not engaged in for many years because I didn’t own a TV set. Someone gave me one and it seemed only appropriate that I use it under the circumstances.

While flicking through the channels one evening, I stumbled on to the first auditions for American Idol. I had heard of the program, but had never watched it. I wasn’t into reality TV. It is far too scripted to be defined as such, or that’s what I thought at the time. But I remained seated and decided I’d give it at least one attempt. Everything, even a TV series, needs the benefit of the doubt and I was free to change the channels at any time, right?

I never changed the channel, becoming so engrossed that later in the season, I actually found myself resenting anyone who called while I was watching my program. At first, I was definitely intrigued by Michael Johns, the Australian. I’m a sucker for that Aussie accent and he sang Bohemian Rhapsody without musical backup, and nailed it. Sorry, I am a product of the sixties and seventies, and I was impressed. However, as the season progressed, I became far more fascinated with David Cook and what he was doing with the songs he chose and how well he was doing it. My apologies to Michael, but when David did his version of Hello, I sat up and said the same.

Part of me being a writer, therefore an observer, sort of sat back during all of this, intrigued by my own sudden diversion onto a path that was totally disconnected from normal behavior. When Mr. Cook did Music of The Night, I felt compelled to pick up my phone and actually vote, oh my (said that silent but ever present observer). I realized that all of this new behavior might be noteworthy and began to keep a daily journal after having stopped for some time. But I did even that differently. Usually I write my journal pages longhand. For whatever reason, I chose to do this particular writing on the computer, and coincidently (sure that it was coincidence), began to follow the news articles about my favorite musician of the moment.

A note here might be best: I have always known that writing will eventually lead the individual, who participates in it, back into him/herself. My main schtick in writing is self-exploration, so turning back to the journaling was a very natural move on my part. I wanted to explore my own behavior and the intensity of my response. My fascination was a simple curiosity, but I wanted to record it and see where it went.

Eventually, it led to the knowledge that David Cook had a Myspace page, where I could go and hear the tidbits of his ongoing progression through the ranks of competitors and ultimately the number one position. But to get to his page and view his blog, I had to register on the site itself. I promptly dismissed the idea of creating my own page, knowing I wouldn’t do that, and the specifics of why I was there. I also continued to write and explore my own personal interest.

That, in turn, led me to a dialogue about heroes. I had explored and taught classes on archetypal energies, one of the best known being that of the hero. When I had registered on Myspace, I saw that empty page and had noted some of those blank spaces, one of them being the heroes of the user. I knew that I had identified strongly with Mr. Cook, so I began to write about how he measured up with my own list of personal heroes, starting with my father and running through about five more. It was a very interesting comparison, and David held up quite well.

That led me to a personal dilemma (what else was I expecting)? I knew I had a hero, the most prominent of all of them, but one that no one else would consider inside of that definition. I couldn’t leave her out, she was a direct link between the music, David Cook, and myself. She hadn’t been in my life for ten years, and that was a pain I carried around silently inside of myself. Along with a thousand questions as to why our relationship had ended in chaos and seeming insanity. Hers and mine, if I am to be completely honest. I had hit the proverbial brick wall. Do I open myself up, write about her as a hero in my life, or totally disregard this seemingly curved path back inside myself and how I became whoever I am?

I dithered around for a bit, then wrote about this piece of sacred ground inside my own experience. I made detailed statements about why she was a hero, and how much I had learned by befriending her, and how very grateful I was for coming to know her, and myself, by doing that. It had been ten years since that experience, and I was a bit astounded at how certain I was of my thoughts and feelings. It really was an easy write. But more important, was the realization of how all of it had changed while living in that silence. I was satisfied.

The very next afternoon, she called me after years of silence. Asked me for my email addy, and gave me hers. We laughed and talked for two hours. And promptly began the process of renewing our relationship. It hasn’t been easy, but it certainly has been a tremendous joy for a might have been couch potato watching reality TV, of all things.

That is my example of synchronicity. It might be a bit more convoluted than others, but the end result remains the same. If I had not gotten sick, watched the show, connected with a totally unaware David Cook, started writing directly about all of that, entered the arena of the hero archetype, and finally written about one of the most prominent heroes in my own experience, realizing and detailing those very connected diverse elements, I might have been completely taken aback by that totally unexpected phone call. Instead, I welcomed it, and her, with a warmth and eagerness that seemed both genuine and natural to me. I was, after all, connecting the dots, being in the right place, doing the right thing for me, and confidently taking the next step in this journey I call my life.