If Wishing Made It So

    Sometimes I hear things that I want to believe in but struggle with.  I love (and probably fear) the idea that we create our own reality.  To a point, I’m on board with this notion.  I get that when I take a position of gratitude, I notice more blessings in my life.  I have noticed that surrounding myself, in general, with positive people makes my life feel more positive. The same thing feels true about wading through lots of negativity; I feel more negative.  Fine, fine.
    Where the rubber hits the road for me is when folks begin talking about visualizing something concrete that they want in their lives, and then they get it.  That’s when I become that doubting 7 or 8 year old kid:
    Really?? But how could that possibly be true? There’s no such thing as . . .
    I realize even as I write this, that I have had that experience.  In my life, I have experienced seeing my fondest desire manifest.  I could introduce you to her, but she’s busy making puff ball snowmen at her art table right now . . .
    If wishing made it so . . .
    In truth, I did wish. I also hoped. I prayed. I cried. I subjected my body to what I can only describe now as weird science or Vegas style gambling, depending on how you look at it.  I consulted mystics. I wrote in my journal. I threw up my hands in frustration.  In short, I embarked on a path of self discovery and surrender that brought me face to face with a lot of my own assumptions and beliefs about myself and everything else.  I had to throw out what didn’t work.  I had to consider new ideas.  In short, I had to grow into the gift that I was about to be given.  Did it work?
    You betcha! (Only Sarah Palin quote you are likely to see here, ever, but I digress.)
    For me, believing was far from a passive exercise.  I did absolutely everything I could to make my dream a reality, and that still wasn’t enough.  I also had to surrender to the fact that in the end, it wasn’t really in my control.  But the belief was mine. And it worked.
    Why then, do I have to remind myself again and again of the power of intention and correct action to shape my own life? I guess I can be grateful that the reminders are there, and that when they come, they can be powerful.  
    And so here and now, it gives me great pleasure to declare, in what I now better understand to be the spirit of the season,
    I BELIEVE.

Happy Thanksgiving to the Super Committee

    I am not sure how anyone who is paying attention cannot be feeling a constant background hum of tension given the state of the world’s politics.  I started to write the word economy, but as I did, I realized it’s not about the money at the core.  It’s about power, and those who have it.  As one of the 99% who do not have power, I feel anxious and tired whenever I think about the world economy. And completely helpless, did I mention completely helpless?  I may have just given you a Thanksgiving recipe for anxiety – take lots of worry about the economy, add a heavy dose of helplessness and a dash of a tree fell on my office. (Wait, that last one is optional.)  Carry it all around with you for a while and you have . . .
    I don’t think about this all of the time.  I have a long list of other things I do think about.  Thank goodness.  This little topic is simmering on the back burner on very low heat.  I try not to focus on it because there’s nothing I can do about it. That’s the point.  The problem is that 100% denial is impossible.  As many of us know, it takes more and more effort to keep that ugly old thang locked away, off the front burner, not consciously felt, but it’s there . . . always there . . .
    I heard that they didn’t even meet together in the same room.
    No one thought they would succeed.  Many are now saying that they shouldn’t have succeeded. They never meant to succeed. “Their not succeeding is important,” I heard on the radio last night.
    Breathing . . . breathing . . .
    I understand why the occupy Wall Street folks beat drums.  It’s frustrating.  It’s maddening.  Dancing, moving – there is a need to bring some life to this problem.  I believe in gratitude.  I am grateful for my life. I am grateful for my family. I am grateful for where I live.
    And the Super Committee . . .  and our beloved Congress . . . I think that this year, I will count my blessings while walking outside.  Taking deep breaths and focusing on the space between the stars.  This one, I gotta walk off.
    Blessed be.

Goodnight Nurse

    I have been remembering old hurts.  Feels like part of the season.  Sorting through, deciding what to keep, what to throw away.  Driving down the road the other night, I found myself thinking about an old hurt.  Thinking about it.  To give words to the experience, “Oh yeah. I forgot about that place – a bit tender there.” 
    I realize that this particular hurt goes with a particular time of year – an anniversary if you will.  I do not like using that term though.  This hurt is not that awful.  It’s over and done with.  Everybody loves everybody, mostly.  Best not to think about it anymore. Walk down a new road, which I thought I had. And then . . . 
    I have been thinking about the difference between self compassion and nursing old grudges.  Here is what I have been doing.  When the thought of the old hurt comes up, I consciously think,”Yes, that was hard on you.” I automatically exhale, and I think my face softens in the way it does when I am compassionate toward someone else.  I can feel the compassion come over me.  A gentleness flows down from around my eyes, and my shoulders soften.  I probably take a few deep breaths, which down here is its own reward because the sweet, sweet smell of the South County grass always makes my heart smile.  Anyway, I feel better, softer on myself.
    Notice, I haven’t mentioned anything about the nature of the hurt, or who did what to whom.  That’s the surprising thing about all of this, and why I wanted to write about it.  It’s really not at all about the other person, or who did what to whom.  Intellectually, I have already made my peace with what happened.  I believe I understand everyone’s reasons for their behavior, and I feel validated in my feelings about it at the time and now.  So, it’s time to let it go. Move beyond it.
    Just do it.
    As soon as the sports talk starts, I know we have left my path.  Just do it is easier said than done, and in my experience, when it comes to feelings, just do it means just deny your feelings.  I don’t want to wallow, but I believe in my ability to transform a stuck place in me if I am willing to let the process unfold fully.
    I think I am describing a latter stage of letting go. Owning the hurts and offering compassion without judgment is what this is about – the business of tending to the emotional residue of life.  I know I am transformed by my experiences, and at this moment, it is possible for me to believe that the difficult ones can bring their own gifts if I don’t get scared and shut down along the way.
    Blessed be. 

Climbing Trees

    Today in Mexico, folks celebrate the Day of the Dead.  I don’t know what this holiday feels like for those who don’t have any Dead.  For me, it feels like old home week.  I like the tradition of setting out pictures and decorating with flowers.  Some people cook special foods.  For the past couple of evenings, I have burned candles in honor of my family members who have passed on.  It’s nice to once again have something to do for them.  It’s been such a long time since I have seen them.  I have been telling my daughter happy stories of times together with them and describing traits that she shares with each of them.
    There were six in my family of origin.  Growing up, that number felt tangible – two of each plus Mom and Dad.  When we were all together we felt full and robust, and when there started to be spouses, our gatherings felt like parties.  We loved to get together, and we were enough.  (We always called boyfriends and girlfriends "spouses" even before they actually were.)  I remember after they first passed feeling acutely aware of our much reduced number.  We who remained were incomplete and not nearly enough.  Over the years we have added actual spouses, extended family, and GRANDKIDS!  It’s been a while now, and we feel full again – different, but mostly enough.  Somehow, this year during this time of remembering, I have had moments where I feel full in the old way.  Hard to put into words, but precious to live through.  It feels like a visit, not just from my Dear Ones, but from a time that has passed.  Somehow, I get to be me now but also me then, before it ever occurred to me that it all could change.  For a moment here and there, I feel it, and the feeling tastes sweet.  Rather than being a only memory, the experience is somehow fresh and lovely – for a moment.
    So for the remaining day or so, I will continue to climb our family tree – feeling like one of six for the first time in fifteen years and enjoying the view.  My Dad used to feed ice cream sandwiches to our fat happy dog.  He (both of them) loved it.  That dog outlived my Dad.
    Blessed be.

What Dreams May Come

    I haven’t posted anything in quite a while.  I began writing one or two ideas, but nothing  materialized.  My life in these weeks has been full of soccer games (!), board meetings, major construction, two weddings performed, meeting with clients, and of course, my favorite, medication change hijinks. (Steroids and sleep – why can’t we all just be friends?)  On top of that, in the last week, I really noticed the lack o’ blog.  That in itself became a thing.
     “Why am I not writing? Folks won’t keep reading if you stop writing. Product girlfriend. You need product!” (I don’t even try to sound enlightened when I have inner conversations. Gets stuck in my teeth.)
    To give myself credit, (and why wouldn’t I?) I realize that blogging or not blogging is not really the thing.  I write about what I am thinking about.  I write when I have something to say.  The anxiousness was really about a stuckness in my inner process. 
    So, I did some inner work yesterday morning, and I definitely feel more lined up.  No question that clarity came. It’s just that, at first, I didn’t want to hear it.  That’s actually not true.  A part of me loved hearing it.  My body exhaled.  I took a walk.  I could breathe.  I felt a flush of energy come into my body.  It’s just my ego self that had been resisting getting with the program.
    How unusual.
    What I heard was that it’s not time to manifest a BIG NEW IDEA. That’s when I noticed that it’s big, fat glorious Fall out here!  No question that the movement in Nature is downward and inward.  No question that rest and detoxification and being here now are what my body wanted to be doing right then.  As usual, as soon as I surrendered to what felt right to do, rather than what felt like pulling teeth to do, things opened up and creativity started flowing again.
    I realized there was no need for a big new idea.  I already had it.  I have known for some time what I want to do next.  I have heard it clearly a couple of times while journaling and praying.  When I think about the books I have bought and the conversations I have most enjoyed in the past couple of years, all of this makes a great deal of sense.  I am already doing what I am supposed to be doing next.  Sitting here now, I can’t believe that yesterday I was still wringing my hands and writing in my journal, “what’s next for me?”
    I have had plenty of inspiration, I just kept denying it.  That’s right. When inspiration finally came, my first impulse was to give it back! I guess I needed to sit with it for a while.  I needed to take the next step of acknowledging my commitment to moving forward on the idea. And come to think of it, I also needed that commitment to include moving forward on the idea in balance with what my body needs to be well.  The cosmology of Chinese acupuncture holds the energy of Fall as one of sorting through and determining the value of things – what to keep, what to throw away.  That process of bringing myself in tune with Nature and then listening to my inner voice represents the core of the work I have been doing for several years now, and yet it never fails to amaze me.  There is so much to discover in this life! Blessed be.

Zelda Mae Dance

    I have noticed a lot of working through going on right now.  Storm and earthquake recovery and repair goes on all around us – structures damaged by shaking and wind, water damage, canceled events, not to mention unscrupulous insurance providers.  Money concerns continue to press us, and organizations face cutbacks and closures.  As usual, I won’t even mention the shenanigans going on in Congress, except to wonder if a tree has to fall on their houses in order for them to cut the crap and get to governing.
    I was driving down the road the other night on the way to a meeting about a legal dispute when the song, “Shake Your Groove Thing,” came on the Ipod.  I had a fairly intense visceral impulse to jump out of the car and dance.  I could feel how good it would feel, in my body, to shake my, well, you know.  Of course, I didn’t.  The first thought I had after that was, “You’ve got to go to this meeting.” Of course, I did, but the experience stayed with me.  I remembered it several times through the evening and wondered what it meant. 
    I realize now that part of me really wants to cut loose and have some fun.  Yet, another part of me wonders if it’s ok to stop thinking (and let’s face it worrying) about the issues at hand long enough to have fun.  Of course, as soon as the words come fully to the surface of the consciousness, the answer seems obvious.  Clearly, dealing with serious matters in no way requires us to surrender joy.  In fact, I would suggest quite the opposite.  Emotional resilience comes from balancing the serious with the less so.  My logical mind knows this quite well, and yet, I notice at times an unconscious impulse to pull myself back.  I am working with it.  Like most feelings, observing moves it, and right now, I am looking forward to a weekend of family and friends and a wedding that I am performing for two of my beloveds.
    I knew a woman once who gave herself the name Rose May Dance when she reached midlife.  I always liked it, and I get it now like never before.  So may I re-introduce myself?  Today, call me Zelda Mae Dance, and of course, you already know Peaches and Herb.

I'm Limited

    For weeks now, I have had that song from the Broadway play, Wicked, in my head.  The song begins with the main character singing, “I’m limited.” That line makes me feel emotional when I hear it.  I feel limited these days, and let’s just say I’m not hooked on that feeling!  I hate feeling like I can’t accomplish what I want to do.  When I make a mistake or I have to let go of something I wanted to do but don’t have the energy for, I find it difficult to live with.  Maybe better said, I find it difficult to live with how that makes me feel.
    How that makes me feel. And how exactly does that make me feel?    Disappointed with myself? Embarrassed?  Maybe at first, but that’s not what it boils down to for me.  Turns out, it scares me.
     Scares me?
    Well, yes. What will I do if I can’t do what I want to do right now? My mind begins racing down roads to nowhere or worse.  I wonder if this experience of limit will only lead to more of the same.  My Inner Critic helpfully offers some harsh self judgment words like lazy or failure.  Maybe I don’t get to live the life I am supposed to live.  It gets pretty ugly in there.
    Of course, my first response often involves shutting down emotionally.  The problem with that of course is that shutting down leads to stagnation and a failure to recognize rising energy when it comes. And it does come.  If I am closed down, I miss the opportunity for movement in a new direction – new ideas, new inspirations . . .
    Limited.
    Aren’t we all?
    It occurs to me that this conversation is about living within my emotional and physical means, and said that way, it sounds like a good thing.  Healthy boundaries are good, at least when we are talking about other people.  For ourselves, we’re supposed to refuse to be limited by the idea of our own limitations. And we wonder why the federal budget is such a mess.
    How can I live with my own physical and emotional limitations without unnecessarily limiting myself?  I struggle with this.  I know that the answer includes staying connected and present as I walk through the days.  When I notice myself struggling or shutdown, connecting with another person often helps me.  Sometimes, I can regain a sense of connection through journaling or prayer, but when I feel really bad, connecting with another person seems to work best.
    I confess that I wish that I didn’t have this struggle.  I wish I could simply do what I want when I want to, but the thing is:
    I’m limited.