This is what was generated when I plugged in my blog URL into the create window on the web site: Wordle.
For a better view of what Wordle actually created for me, just click on the word scramble box above.
Go have some fun.
Showing posts with label Miscellaneous Monday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Miscellaneous Monday. Show all posts
Monday, October 3, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
Heartsick
September isn't over yet but twice I've got a call to come pick up my son from school. He says he doesn't feel well. In my heart, I know that it isn't his body but his mind that feels sick. My heart breaks a little as I drive across town to pick him up. He isn't coping well with the transition to middle school.
Later, I read an e-mail from his teacher. He was refusing to do work in class. He was throwing papers, yelling at his teacher and his helper. Security escorted him out of the classroom. Inside my heart breaks again, only sharper and deeper this time. I try and imagine his future and I start to panic inside. He copes so poorly with life. If he knew what awaits would it crush him? It almost crushes me.
On the drive home, he reads my broken heart and it frightens him.
"I love you, Mom", he says in a feigned weak voice.
"I love you too."
"Are you mad at me?" He asks.
He is afraid of the answer.
"No, I'm not mad. I'm really concerned and frustrated. You've got to make better choices. I'm not sure how to help you. You know that thinking yourself sick to get out of something isn't the best way to deal with a problem."
"I know, Mom", he says sadly.
"I'm really concerned about this problem cooperating. School is often work and you are expected to rise to the occasion. Not cooperating makes your life more difficult than it has to be."
He doesn't know how often I convinced myself I was sick to avoid the exquisite torture that school provided me and later work. There were consequences. I don't always cope as well as I should. I can make my life more difficult than it has to be.
His father and I work out some new "rules" for coming home during the school day.
Vomiting.
Fever.
A medical condition that requires immediate attention.
Those are his get-out-of-school free cards. Tough love is tough. My heart breaks a little again but not as sharply and deeply this time. I know what needs to guide my choices. I stand on a top of the years, looking down. I know how important it is for him to learn how to deal with life. I want to give my energy, my faith, and my hope to his potential to overcome what holds him back inside.
But, there are things I can't control. This fact feeds a growing mass of worry inside my heart. My heart breaks again, sharply and deeply. I look at the pieces of my heart and realize that broken again and again, my heart has become stronger in all the broken places.
I tell myself, "I can do this. I can cope and so can he."
Later, I read an e-mail from his teacher. He was refusing to do work in class. He was throwing papers, yelling at his teacher and his helper. Security escorted him out of the classroom. Inside my heart breaks again, only sharper and deeper this time. I try and imagine his future and I start to panic inside. He copes so poorly with life. If he knew what awaits would it crush him? It almost crushes me.
On the drive home, he reads my broken heart and it frightens him.
"I love you, Mom", he says in a feigned weak voice.
"I love you too."
"Are you mad at me?" He asks.
He is afraid of the answer.
"No, I'm not mad. I'm really concerned and frustrated. You've got to make better choices. I'm not sure how to help you. You know that thinking yourself sick to get out of something isn't the best way to deal with a problem."
"I know, Mom", he says sadly.
"I'm really concerned about this problem cooperating. School is often work and you are expected to rise to the occasion. Not cooperating makes your life more difficult than it has to be."
He doesn't know how often I convinced myself I was sick to avoid the exquisite torture that school provided me and later work. There were consequences. I don't always cope as well as I should. I can make my life more difficult than it has to be.
His father and I work out some new "rules" for coming home during the school day.
Vomiting.
Fever.
A medical condition that requires immediate attention.
Those are his get-out-of-school free cards. Tough love is tough. My heart breaks a little again but not as sharply and deeply this time. I know what needs to guide my choices. I stand on a top of the years, looking down. I know how important it is for him to learn how to deal with life. I want to give my energy, my faith, and my hope to his potential to overcome what holds him back inside.
But, there are things I can't control. This fact feeds a growing mass of worry inside my heart. My heart breaks again, sharply and deeply. I look at the pieces of my heart and realize that broken again and again, my heart has become stronger in all the broken places.
I tell myself, "I can do this. I can cope and so can he."
Monday, September 5, 2011
Monday March for Maturity
Recently, in a moment of self-awareness, I realized that I was sprawled over the coach in a rather child-like position. My inner critic chided me for "not being more grown-up."
But exactly, what is grown up? I know that we have an age to define the line between childhood and adulthood but we all know that "growing up" happens over an entire life time. Inside most of us, still feel a much younger age than we are. If you don't believe me, just start asking people, "What age are you on the inside?"
A recent informal poll discovered that most of us present chose an inner age between 12 and 18.
This topic of maturity has haunted me lately. I'd been feeling like some how I'd managed not to "grow up." So, I decided to figure out what maturity means to me. I went straight to the Internet and searched "maturity". Emotional intelligence caught my eye.
Here's a little test developed by Nick Arrizza MD Just how grown-up are you? According to Nick, I've got some growing to do. I would agree. I'm re-framing my disappointment with enthusiasm for something to work on. I may not be completely grown-up but I can pretend, can't I?
----------------------------------------------------------------
Please rate each item as outlined below according to your life experience.
Assign:
a "1" score each time you answer "Rarely",
a "0.5" score each time you answer "Sometimes", and
a "0" score each time you answer "Often" to each item in the questionnaire.
Then add up your total EMQ score.
Questions:
1. I look to others to validate my decisions before I act on them.
2. I tend to follow rather lead others.
3. Taking responsibility frightens me and so I avoid it.
4. Being on my own makes me feel uncomfortable.
5. I rely on others to make me feel secure.
6. I tend to make snap decisions.
7. I rarely stop and think through what I'm going to do next.
8. I tend to make impulsive decisions.
9. I'm generally an anxious person.
10. I tend to worry a lot.
11. My mood is easily affected by what is taking place around me.
12. I am a moody person.
13. I've been told that I'm moody.
14. I tend to get angry or frustrated easily.
15. I'm not very successful with relationships.
16. My relationships tend to last only a short time.
17. My relationships are very turbulent.
18. I don't enjoy looking after children or pets.
19. My confidence level is low.
20. I have trouble speaking in public or to strangers I don't know.
21. I often feel like there is something wrong with me.
22. I indulge in feelings of self pity.
23. I tend to complain about how others have hurt me or made my life difficult.
24. I often blame my parents for how I am.
25. I dislike myself.
26. I'm afraid that being honest will make my life more difficult.
27. I tend to tell people what I think they want to hear and not what I feel.
28. I need others to approve of me for me to feel good about myself.
29. I'm afraid of rejection.
30. I'm afraid of disapproval.
31. I tend to turn to alcohol, drugs, cigarettes or something else to take away my emotional pain.
32. I have trouble opening up to others.
33. I have trouble feeling relaxed around others.
34. I fear others will think there's something wrong with me
35. I have trouble managing my money.
36. I neglect my health.
37. I tend to ignore my healthcare practitioner's advice.
39. I'm a loner.
40. I hate being alone.
------------------------------------------------------------
A total EMQ score of:
1. Greater than 30 is a sign of good emotional maturity.
2. Between 10 and 30 a sign that you will likely have some challenges ahead in your life if you fail to address the relevant issues.
3. Less than 10 is sign that you are going to run into significant trouble if you haven't already.
If you want support in improving your EMQ, your life and your chances of success then kindly visit the web link below where you can set up your introductory telephone consultation with me at no risk to you.
But exactly, what is grown up? I know that we have an age to define the line between childhood and adulthood but we all know that "growing up" happens over an entire life time. Inside most of us, still feel a much younger age than we are. If you don't believe me, just start asking people, "What age are you on the inside?"
A recent informal poll discovered that most of us present chose an inner age between 12 and 18.
This topic of maturity has haunted me lately. I'd been feeling like some how I'd managed not to "grow up." So, I decided to figure out what maturity means to me. I went straight to the Internet and searched "maturity". Emotional intelligence caught my eye.
Here's a little test developed by Nick Arrizza MD Just how grown-up are you? According to Nick, I've got some growing to do. I would agree. I'm re-framing my disappointment with enthusiasm for something to work on. I may not be completely grown-up but I can pretend, can't I?
----------------------------------------------------------------
The Emotional Maturity Questionnaire
Please rate each item as outlined below according to your life experience.
Assign:
a "1" score each time you answer "Rarely",
a "0.5" score each time you answer "Sometimes", and
a "0" score each time you answer "Often" to each item in the questionnaire.
Then add up your total EMQ score.
Questions:
1. I look to others to validate my decisions before I act on them.
2. I tend to follow rather lead others.
3. Taking responsibility frightens me and so I avoid it.
4. Being on my own makes me feel uncomfortable.
5. I rely on others to make me feel secure.
6. I tend to make snap decisions.
7. I rarely stop and think through what I'm going to do next.
8. I tend to make impulsive decisions.
9. I'm generally an anxious person.
10. I tend to worry a lot.
11. My mood is easily affected by what is taking place around me.
12. I am a moody person.
13. I've been told that I'm moody.
14. I tend to get angry or frustrated easily.
15. I'm not very successful with relationships.
16. My relationships tend to last only a short time.
17. My relationships are very turbulent.
18. I don't enjoy looking after children or pets.
19. My confidence level is low.
20. I have trouble speaking in public or to strangers I don't know.
21. I often feel like there is something wrong with me.
22. I indulge in feelings of self pity.
23. I tend to complain about how others have hurt me or made my life difficult.
24. I often blame my parents for how I am.
25. I dislike myself.
26. I'm afraid that being honest will make my life more difficult.
27. I tend to tell people what I think they want to hear and not what I feel.
28. I need others to approve of me for me to feel good about myself.
29. I'm afraid of rejection.
30. I'm afraid of disapproval.
31. I tend to turn to alcohol, drugs, cigarettes or something else to take away my emotional pain.
32. I have trouble opening up to others.
33. I have trouble feeling relaxed around others.
34. I fear others will think there's something wrong with me
35. I have trouble managing my money.
36. I neglect my health.
37. I tend to ignore my healthcare practitioner's advice.
39. I'm a loner.
40. I hate being alone.
------------------------------------------------------------
A total EMQ score of:
1. Greater than 30 is a sign of good emotional maturity.
2. Between 10 and 30 a sign that you will likely have some challenges ahead in your life if you fail to address the relevant issues.
3. Less than 10 is sign that you are going to run into significant trouble if you haven't already.
If you want support in improving your EMQ, your life and your chances of success then kindly visit the web link below where you can set up your introductory telephone consultation with me at no risk to you.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
When Most Needed
Morose. It's how my Miscellaneous Monday started. I felt sorry for myself. The day was an uphill battle. I pasted on a happy face but wasn't feeling remotely satisfied much less happy.
Yet, at days end, someones words touched my life in a way I'd never expected. This person's life, their words were pure gift. They came when I most needed to hear them . . . words of comfort, of love, of God and one's place in the universe.
Tuesday suddenly looks a lot brighter.
Once while still living in Chula Vista, I went to my favorite thrift store with several dollars in my wallet. I wanted to buy something "new" but had a very limited budget. Suddenly, a woman, a perfect little stranger spotted me from across a clothing rack and smiled. It was no ordinary smile. When she looked at me I felt as if she could see right through me. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling but certainly an unusual one. She came over to where I was standing, gently put her hand on my arm and looking into my eyes, she said, "Do you know how much God loves you?"
I smiled back but I didn't really know what to say. Not many strangers have eyes that look through you, much less smile and say things like, "Do you know how much God loves you?"
I'm not sure what I said. Hopefully, I said thank you. She wandered away and left me standing. Within several seconds, I collected some of my wits and looked for her. I wanted to ask her, "What made her say that to me?"
She hadn't spoken to others in the crowded thrift store. I looked for her but she was gone. She wasn't on the sidewalk outside or in the parking lot. She had vanished.
I believe she was flesh and blood but there is a part of me that would accept the fact that she might have been something more. I've never forgotten this encounter. It was at a time in life when I desperately needed to be reminded of God's love. A tiny gray-haired woman came into my life for only a few seconds but she gave me the message I most needed to hear. I've never forgotten her. She touched my life in a profound way.
Many years have passed since then. No one has come up to me in a store and said anything like that in all the years since. Tonight, I was again touched by a profound encounter.
Those who know me best, know I'm not comfortable talking about God or religion or even what I believe about those two topics. I'm a lousy witness. I'm uncomfortable with public displays of belief. Liturgical dance makes me cringe, hearing others speaking in tongues makes me squirm. I associate a lot of God-talk with mental instability. The neighbor who talks about God so freely irritates me. I try to smile politely. He doesn't seem very grounded in reality. His doctrine makes me uncomfortable. It isn't very inclusive. It attributes much to God that is really religion talking. Religion and God are two very different things and may not share much in common.
Religion, God, belief, are all subjects that can spark emotion and conflict. Look at how long the Israelis and Palestinians have been fighting. I tremble when I think of venturing into this hot bed of conversation.
And, yet. . . God's love touched my life tonight. Plainly. Simply. You can almost see the lightening bolt scar on my soul.
Yet, at days end, someones words touched my life in a way I'd never expected. This person's life, their words were pure gift. They came when I most needed to hear them . . . words of comfort, of love, of God and one's place in the universe.
Tuesday suddenly looks a lot brighter.
Once while still living in Chula Vista, I went to my favorite thrift store with several dollars in my wallet. I wanted to buy something "new" but had a very limited budget. Suddenly, a woman, a perfect little stranger spotted me from across a clothing rack and smiled. It was no ordinary smile. When she looked at me I felt as if she could see right through me. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling but certainly an unusual one. She came over to where I was standing, gently put her hand on my arm and looking into my eyes, she said, "Do you know how much God loves you?"
I smiled back but I didn't really know what to say. Not many strangers have eyes that look through you, much less smile and say things like, "Do you know how much God loves you?"
I'm not sure what I said. Hopefully, I said thank you. She wandered away and left me standing. Within several seconds, I collected some of my wits and looked for her. I wanted to ask her, "What made her say that to me?"
She hadn't spoken to others in the crowded thrift store. I looked for her but she was gone. She wasn't on the sidewalk outside or in the parking lot. She had vanished.
I believe she was flesh and blood but there is a part of me that would accept the fact that she might have been something more. I've never forgotten this encounter. It was at a time in life when I desperately needed to be reminded of God's love. A tiny gray-haired woman came into my life for only a few seconds but she gave me the message I most needed to hear. I've never forgotten her. She touched my life in a profound way.
Many years have passed since then. No one has come up to me in a store and said anything like that in all the years since. Tonight, I was again touched by a profound encounter.
Those who know me best, know I'm not comfortable talking about God or religion or even what I believe about those two topics. I'm a lousy witness. I'm uncomfortable with public displays of belief. Liturgical dance makes me cringe, hearing others speaking in tongues makes me squirm. I associate a lot of God-talk with mental instability. The neighbor who talks about God so freely irritates me. I try to smile politely. He doesn't seem very grounded in reality. His doctrine makes me uncomfortable. It isn't very inclusive. It attributes much to God that is really religion talking. Religion and God are two very different things and may not share much in common.
Religion, God, belief, are all subjects that can spark emotion and conflict. Look at how long the Israelis and Palestinians have been fighting. I tremble when I think of venturing into this hot bed of conversation.
And, yet. . . God's love touched my life tonight. Plainly. Simply. You can almost see the lightening bolt scar on my soul.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Monday Slam: Woman at War with Self
<iframe width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/kqLssKusGzM" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen>iframe>
Miscellaneous Monday
Soothing Sunday slipped away silently. Monday started with an explosion. Children who were being much too silly for a Monday morning were soon yelling charges of injustice at their sleepy parents. Apparently, having your children fold laundry is a heinous act of war. It turns them into "slaves." Storming off to their rooms to cool down, the laundry lay in an all too familiar pattern of disarray. Some days they don't really have a clue no matter how certain they are that they have.
I have an idea how they feel. I was young once. I was a girl at war. Today, I also know that in the larger world outside the boundaries of their own heads reality awaits them. It will bite with sharp teeth some day soon. They don't know that most of us are at war with something.
Against this backdrop of battle, angst, chaos, yelling and charges of enslavement, I have to face the emotional fallout that another birthday brings. I am at war with age. I escape the house, the angst, the battle to wage one of my own. Tomorrow I'll be 53. Where did the years go? I wanted to grow old gracefully. I didn't want to mourn the passage of youth. I wanted to celebrate each gray hair and arthritic ache. Instead, the person I see in the mirror is a stranger. This stranger frightens me with her wrinkled brow and dour expression. She isn't much fun at all. She can't appreciate her childrens' early morning silliness. She just wants the noise to stop. She's a woman at war. She is no longer a girl.
Any yet, some where inside the girl still lives. She plays foolish games before heaven. She charges into battle on a steed made of hope and causes. Her eyes crackle with desire. She is on fire. This girl is so far away. Or is she?
I think of my children. In their angry faces, I catch a glimpse of my own. I want to swoop them up in a giant hug and wish their angst away. They are just trying to define themselves. They struggle to figure out who they are. How can they know that this is something that their parents still work at every day?
The girl has disappeared again. The older woman remembers the stranger's face she saw in the mirror just this morning. Everyday is a new opportunity to figure out who we are. I can spend the day getting to know the stranger in the morning mirror or I can spend the day battling change, the inevitable march of time, the thousands of little deaths and rebirths that find us every day. I am weary of the war. I am ready to make peace with that which can not be changed.
The time for my body to be young has come and gone. Age does bring some benefits. I make a list of things that age has taught me.
*Cooperation is sweeter than victory..
*Picking one's battles makes all the difference.
*Admitting that one is wrong is a courageous thing to do.
*Knowing why there are rules and being able to see to the truth beyond them.
*Knowing when to break the rules and when to keep them.
*Understanding that being kind is often more important than being right.
*Making peace with fear makes all the difference.
*Life is fragile and much stronger than one can imagine.
*Paradox moves us forward. I makes the world go 'round and keeps the stars in the heavens. Invite paradox in. Embrace it. Learn from it and then send it on its way.
*Endings and beginnings are not really all that different from each other.
*Each day brings promise.
I am at war no longer. It's time to go home and comfort the troops.
Miscellaneous Monday
Soothing Sunday slipped away silently. Monday started with an explosion. Children who were being much too silly for a Monday morning were soon yelling charges of injustice at their sleepy parents. Apparently, having your children fold laundry is a heinous act of war. It turns them into "slaves." Storming off to their rooms to cool down, the laundry lay in an all too familiar pattern of disarray. Some days they don't really have a clue no matter how certain they are that they have.
I have an idea how they feel. I was young once. I was a girl at war. Today, I also know that in the larger world outside the boundaries of their own heads reality awaits them. It will bite with sharp teeth some day soon. They don't know that most of us are at war with something.
Against this backdrop of battle, angst, chaos, yelling and charges of enslavement, I have to face the emotional fallout that another birthday brings. I am at war with age. I escape the house, the angst, the battle to wage one of my own. Tomorrow I'll be 53. Where did the years go? I wanted to grow old gracefully. I didn't want to mourn the passage of youth. I wanted to celebrate each gray hair and arthritic ache. Instead, the person I see in the mirror is a stranger. This stranger frightens me with her wrinkled brow and dour expression. She isn't much fun at all. She can't appreciate her childrens' early morning silliness. She just wants the noise to stop. She's a woman at war. She is no longer a girl.
Any yet, some where inside the girl still lives. She plays foolish games before heaven. She charges into battle on a steed made of hope and causes. Her eyes crackle with desire. She is on fire. This girl is so far away. Or is she?
I think of my children. In their angry faces, I catch a glimpse of my own. I want to swoop them up in a giant hug and wish their angst away. They are just trying to define themselves. They struggle to figure out who they are. How can they know that this is something that their parents still work at every day?
The girl has disappeared again. The older woman remembers the stranger's face she saw in the mirror just this morning. Everyday is a new opportunity to figure out who we are. I can spend the day getting to know the stranger in the morning mirror or I can spend the day battling change, the inevitable march of time, the thousands of little deaths and rebirths that find us every day. I am weary of the war. I am ready to make peace with that which can not be changed.
The time for my body to be young has come and gone. Age does bring some benefits. I make a list of things that age has taught me.
*Cooperation is sweeter than victory..
*Picking one's battles makes all the difference.
*Admitting that one is wrong is a courageous thing to do.
*Knowing why there are rules and being able to see to the truth beyond them.
*Knowing when to break the rules and when to keep them.
*Understanding that being kind is often more important than being right.
*Making peace with fear makes all the difference.
*Life is fragile and much stronger than one can imagine.
*Paradox moves us forward. I makes the world go 'round and keeps the stars in the heavens. Invite paradox in. Embrace it. Learn from it and then send it on its way.
*Endings and beginnings are not really all that different from each other.
*Each day brings promise.
I am at war no longer. It's time to go home and comfort the troops.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Inspiration Can Come from Anywhere
Keeping a positive attitude and an open mind isn't always easy. A lot of the time, I have to work at it but since I've tried living the alternative, I know I'd much rather be delusional and happier than realistic and miserable. Besides, I just read yesterday that a positive attitude helps predispose you to positive opportunities. Well, it's worth a shot isn't it?
Today, on my Miscellaneous Monday Just 10 walk, I thought about starting a blog or web site with a broader appeal. I really appreciate my loyal readers and don't intent to halt my ramblings here but I'd like to explore some other possibilities.
Even though you can't tell it from my vision Book or from the photo above, I am quite crafty. I sew, knit, crochet. I also love to bake and cook. Creating makes me feel like a powerful and a some what mad scientist/artist.
Walking this morning, I realized that crafting is a way for me to create myself. It's a physical act that helps define who I am, where I end and the world begins. Even if the finished product is of questionable merit or has no artistic value, it doesn't diminish my enjoyment in making it.
There are already a lot of really wonderful blogs about crafting, cooking, etc. So, I'm looking for my own interesting twist. Feel free to give me a suggestion or two. In the meantime, I'm going to meander through my Monday looking for inspiration.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Broken #1
Miscellaneous Monday
Was this medallion part of some prize or trophy? Was it part of a gimcracks purchased at the dollar store? Was it broken and dropped here on purpose? Does it have an interesting story behind it or just a boring collection of nothing?
It was definitely a broken thing. There was another broken thing on the trail today. Nearing my turning point, I spotted a man standing in the shade of a small tree. On the ground beside him, a bright yellow sweatshirt lay in a heap alongside a plastic grocery bag. The man swayed slightly, like tall grass does in a light breeze. I wondered if might be sick and needed help. When I got closer, I saw a large inexpensive brand of beer in a can clutched tightly in his fist. The grocery sack at his feet contained more of the same. His lazy smile spoke volumes.
I said hello, made eye contact and as I walked away, I listened more keenly for the sound of feet following me. Living alone and without a car for 14 years in Northwest Portland taught me a thing or two. I assessed the situation and decided that given his state of inebriation, I'd probably have the edge in a physical confrontation. His lazy smile had told me to be careful. Fortunately, there were few bushes at this spot on the trail and we were in full view of the passing traffic.
He was in full view. Part of me remained careful and aware but there was a small part of me that felt nothing but pity for this man. I looked at him, drunk so early on a Monday morning and I wondered what pain he must feel to crawl in a cheap can so early in the day. Was his pain, while much more transparent than any I carry, really that different from my own? I could not judge him. His brokenness was visible but too much like the brokenness we all carry.
I may not seek comfort in a can or a bottle but I can crawl into a bag of chips or a batch of cookies in a futile attempt to hide my own misery and to drown my own pain. I'd started out on my walk thinking what a difficult time my husband and I were having "cleaning up" our bad eating habits. I thought about how easily I enabled us both and how co-dependent our behavior is. I thought about addressing my husband publicly in an open letter. I thought about airing our bad habits in a confessional act of written atonement. . . as if that would really change anything.
And, then I saw a broken man and discovered a broken #1 and knew that I was discovering something about myself. I am broken. I can begin again. I will fail again. It's all part of trail or the trial that is life. Those two words must be similar on purpose because life is both. None of us are getting out alive. We're all broken #1. We can say hello to each other as we pass. Sometimes we can help each other. Sometimes we need to keep our eyes on each other. Always we can learn from each other. We walk alone and we walk together. Trail, trial, broken #1, broken men, broken women. There is comfort in our numbers that is much greater than the comfort of the can or bottle or cupcake. I have only to open my heart to see it.
Image Credit: S. Sturgeon
Two things stood out on my Just 10 walk this morning. First, a broken trinket found in a quiet intersection. Three plastic silver beads were unevenly divided by a round medallion the size of a quarter. Embossed in the center of the medallion was the "# 1". I bent to pick it up and wanted to take it home but only for a few seconds. What could I use this for?Was this medallion part of some prize or trophy? Was it part of a gimcracks purchased at the dollar store? Was it broken and dropped here on purpose? Does it have an interesting story behind it or just a boring collection of nothing?
It was definitely a broken thing. There was another broken thing on the trail today. Nearing my turning point, I spotted a man standing in the shade of a small tree. On the ground beside him, a bright yellow sweatshirt lay in a heap alongside a plastic grocery bag. The man swayed slightly, like tall grass does in a light breeze. I wondered if might be sick and needed help. When I got closer, I saw a large inexpensive brand of beer in a can clutched tightly in his fist. The grocery sack at his feet contained more of the same. His lazy smile spoke volumes.
I said hello, made eye contact and as I walked away, I listened more keenly for the sound of feet following me. Living alone and without a car for 14 years in Northwest Portland taught me a thing or two. I assessed the situation and decided that given his state of inebriation, I'd probably have the edge in a physical confrontation. His lazy smile had told me to be careful. Fortunately, there were few bushes at this spot on the trail and we were in full view of the passing traffic.
He was in full view. Part of me remained careful and aware but there was a small part of me that felt nothing but pity for this man. I looked at him, drunk so early on a Monday morning and I wondered what pain he must feel to crawl in a cheap can so early in the day. Was his pain, while much more transparent than any I carry, really that different from my own? I could not judge him. His brokenness was visible but too much like the brokenness we all carry.
I may not seek comfort in a can or a bottle but I can crawl into a bag of chips or a batch of cookies in a futile attempt to hide my own misery and to drown my own pain. I'd started out on my walk thinking what a difficult time my husband and I were having "cleaning up" our bad eating habits. I thought about how easily I enabled us both and how co-dependent our behavior is. I thought about addressing my husband publicly in an open letter. I thought about airing our bad habits in a confessional act of written atonement. . . as if that would really change anything.
And, then I saw a broken man and discovered a broken #1 and knew that I was discovering something about myself. I am broken. I can begin again. I will fail again. It's all part of trail or the trial that is life. Those two words must be similar on purpose because life is both. None of us are getting out alive. We're all broken #1. We can say hello to each other as we pass. Sometimes we can help each other. Sometimes we need to keep our eyes on each other. Always we can learn from each other. We walk alone and we walk together. Trail, trial, broken #1, broken men, broken women. There is comfort in our numbers that is much greater than the comfort of the can or bottle or cupcake. I have only to open my heart to see it.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Wild Monday
On my Just 10 morning walk, I looked for a topic for Miscellaneous Monday. As I stepped off the yards and miles, I became very interested in identifying the flora in the landscape. When the walking trail first opened, the sides were planted with many native bushes and trees. At first, it was carefully tended but over time, the wild has stepped in. Now almost ten years later, the landscape is a profusion of growth, weeds grow among the planted bushes. At first, I thought about how neglected the trail side had become but I couldn't help but enjoy some of the pretty weeds and wild flowers. It was time to strip to the bone and acknowledge the wild side.
Queen Anne's Lace danced in a gentle breeze. Clover awaited bumbling bees. Tansy Ragwort, a bane to bovines everywhere, sported smart, mustard-yellow flower clusters. Salmon berries were heavy with fruit. Oregon grape has begun coloring some of its leaves with a brilliant fire red. Wild roses have faded, their long arching branches are now heavy with rose hips. The world around me was tame and wild. Both seemed to belong together.
The fact that I could name many of the plants before me, pleased me. Life has not left me completely unprepared. I knew that Queen Anne's Lace is wild carrot and edible as are the salmon berries. I know that the dandelions with sharp-pointed leaves can be used as salad greens. I knew I could eat clover. I knew that even the stinging nettle can be tamed and made into greens or brewed as tea. If I'm every lost in the woods, I will not starve.
The fact that there were plants I could not name also pleased me. There is much to learn. There will always be something new.
Suddenly, I found myself very aware of the "feelings" of the people I meet on the trail. Their bodies and movements shout at me as we pass each other. Their moods and feelings are no secret. In those moments, I discover how much I have shut out. I have spent most of my life tuning out the "wildness" of the world because it felt overwhelming. I've tried to keep my life, a well-manicured flower bed but the wilderness has always been waiting to come in. The line between myself and others, between myself and the world seemed such a strong one. It hasn't been. We've always belonged together. We've been walking side by side. Wild is everywhere.
Wild is full of passion. It's where the zest for life has been hiding. It's the source of great art. It sings the music of the soul. Welcome, Wild Monday, it's time we got to know each other.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Miscellaneous Monday
\
Miscellaneous finds me with a bad case of the "mopes." I feel like I stand on the edge of a new life, a new way of being but can't quite make the plunge. This new life isn't all that different from the present one in circumstance. It's radically different in the state of mind that I bring to it. I want to be filled with hope, positive energy, drive, love and charisma. Instead, I'm stuck in "Mopeville." At least, I've got a lot of company. This town is a city full of fellow "mopettes."
Today, I'm going to share part of a post from the blog, Dumb Little Man. This article was written by Nate Klemp, a psychology professor at Pepperdine (which is in beautiful Malibu, CA.). The title of the article is "4 Ways to Shift from Work to Effortless Creation." While I suspect he makes it easier than it really is, I'm going to apply these principles to dealing with my Monday. Instead of fighting the mopes, I'm just going to go with them and see where they might take me. I'll let you know how it goes.
Miscellaneous finds me with a bad case of the "mopes." I feel like I stand on the edge of a new life, a new way of being but can't quite make the plunge. This new life isn't all that different from the present one in circumstance. It's radically different in the state of mind that I bring to it. I want to be filled with hope, positive energy, drive, love and charisma. Instead, I'm stuck in "Mopeville." At least, I've got a lot of company. This town is a city full of fellow "mopettes."
Today, I'm going to share part of a post from the blog, Dumb Little Man. This article was written by Nate Klemp, a psychology professor at Pepperdine (which is in beautiful Malibu, CA.). The title of the article is "4 Ways to Shift from Work to Effortless Creation." While I suspect he makes it easier than it really is, I'm going to apply these principles to dealing with my Monday. Instead of fighting the mopes, I'm just going to go with them and see where they might take me. I'll let you know how it goes.
- "Do Nothing
This may also sound crazy. But, some of the latest discoveries in the field of neuroscience show that when we experience states like boredom, the brain shifts to a “default state.” In this state, our perception changes. Time slows down, we daydream more, and, most important, we open ourselves to new and more creative ways of thinking. This doesn’t mean that you should sit on your couch all day. But you might plan short periods for walking alone, sitting outside, or meditating to give yourself space for creative ideas to emerge. - Slow Down
Pace has a huge impact on the chances of creative moments arising. Our tendency is to go fast. We drive fast, rush through meals, and prize the idea of efficiency in the workplace. But the faster you go, the more you enter into the mental state of “hard work.” All this rush drowns out creative new solutions and ideas playing in the sub-conscious background. So one of the best ways to tap into “effortless creation” is simply to slow down. Eat more slowly, write more slowly, and email more slowly. The more you slow down the flow of life, the more you open yourself to unexpected new ideas and insights. - Record Your Genius
When your next great idea comes, go all out. Remember that you are experiencing a special state of consciousness. So allow yourself to follow the flow of inspiration. Write down everything that comes to mind. Be sure to capture the contents of your mind in this altered state of effortless creation. In a day, or even an hour, it may be gone.Dumb Little Man"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)