I feel as if the energy that moves through my Life has taken on a different vibration. There is a greater sense of joy than I had been feeling in the past. I think it has been building steadily for about a year and a half.
I made the decision, about two and a half years ago, to give up being disappointed. At the time, I was tired of being let down by everyone and just about everything. When I was younger (my teens through my 30's) I was considered the eternal optimist. Though some of that lingered, the circumstances of Life seemed to weigh me down and it was as if much of my optimism, joy and anticipation of the next good thing had sort of leaked out of my Life.
I found that all I could count on was not having enough of most things except stress, anxiety and fear. I was being swallowed up. I went to see a therapist who told me that I had every reason to feel as I did. My Life was a bit out of my control - tax issues, huge reduction in income, single parenting, an aging parent to care for, and a boss who actively worked to make my Life as miserable as possible.
The therapist wanted to do reflective exercises that would help me clarify where I was and would likely get me moving forward. Unfortunately, I couldn't afford the $20/week and stopped going after 2 months. But, it helped to know that my Life was not the sum total of my own mistakes, that there were other forces (some created by my choices and some a result of external insanity) that impacted me.
I started to try to sort out what was my responsibility, what could I fix and what should I simply give up. It was around my 49th birthday that I flipped the switch and began to try to regain my optimism. I found it was easy when communicating with or supporting others - like writing in my blog or helping a couple of co-workers move through a disagreement. But, my inner Life was still plagued with the fear that the "best" had already happened (and b-t-w, it wasn't all that great) and now, I was living the "rest".
The New Agers used to say "Change your mind and your Life will follow" and I believe that's true. So, I changed my mind about disappointment. What if Life was not a disappointment? What if being single was fine? If not having enough financial resources was temporary and provided much needed skill in budgeting, saving and reeling in the spending? What if my Life could be absolutely joyful, just as it is, simply because it is my Life? What if I focused on the people and circumstances in my Life that were good, honest, beautiful, expansive, caring, trusting and trustworthy? What if I could regain my trust in Life and in myself?
Little by little the world around me seemed to comply with my shift in perspective. I changed my role and department at work and gained relative peace and a sense that my contributions are valued, to some extent. I traded in the need for a man and began to fully appreciate the Love of friends and family. For my body, which I stopped hating and warring with, I began more routine exercise, small changes in diet; for my mind, less absorption of the negativity that pops up on a minute by minute basis in others and more frequently remembering to let go of the negativity that pops up in me. I think all these things have combined to cause me to smile more and to laugh with greater ease.
And now I look at the good stuff that's been happening - more learning at work, a great trip (and I still haven't lost the feeling of it), an old friend reaching out to find me, a child that remains on a steady upward climb, a mom who is still energetic and lucid, a comfortable place to live, the possibility of a new career in a few years and the possibility of greater freedom when the teenager goes out into the world of the university - each of these just reinforces my joy and, I think, helps create a snowball effect of that energy. I am optimistic again and, at last, feel grounded.
Well, whether I've really explained anything or not I can't say. But, it's wonderful to be able to state, in the words of the late, great James Brown -
I feel good, dun na nunna nunna na, like I knew that I would!
May the energy continue to vibrate in all the best ways in my Life and in yours... Later Gators...
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Thursday, May 01, 2008
How Sweet It Is
A very sweet thing happened to me this week. I received an email from a high school friend that I haven't spoken to in probably 20 years. If you've ever had a moment of pure joy then you know what I was feeling.
Herbie was my brother, the guy that I could count on to tell me the truth, to tease me mercilessly and to have my back in times of trouble. Each day, we rode the NYC subway together with our new found sense of teenage freedom. We were two of a handful of black students in an elite public school (best in the US - sorry Stuyvesant - we held the title) and we navigated the culture, the Bronx and the demands of our teachers together.
By the time I was in my 20's, I realized that Herbie was a handsome, intelligent and compassionate man and suddenly had a crush on him. As it turns out, we really were meant to be friends and I don't think either of us was disappointed by that truth.
Time marched, as it has a habit of doing, and each of us married. Mine lasted about 5 minutes but, Herbie being Herbie, hung in for a long time.
Yesterday, I got to hear his voice and it was yet another gift from Spirit. He is happily re-married, both his parents are still walking the planet, has started a new career and can still make me laugh and smile. I'm beginning to remember what a lucky girl I truly am!
Which of us can know from whence our joy will come? That it showed up in the form of an old and dear friend causes gratitude to well from the deepest part of me.
Hope your days are filled with wonder, awe and a whole lotta joy as well.
Herbie was my brother, the guy that I could count on to tell me the truth, to tease me mercilessly and to have my back in times of trouble. Each day, we rode the NYC subway together with our new found sense of teenage freedom. We were two of a handful of black students in an elite public school (best in the US - sorry Stuyvesant - we held the title) and we navigated the culture, the Bronx and the demands of our teachers together.
By the time I was in my 20's, I realized that Herbie was a handsome, intelligent and compassionate man and suddenly had a crush on him. As it turns out, we really were meant to be friends and I don't think either of us was disappointed by that truth.
Time marched, as it has a habit of doing, and each of us married. Mine lasted about 5 minutes but, Herbie being Herbie, hung in for a long time.
Yesterday, I got to hear his voice and it was yet another gift from Spirit. He is happily re-married, both his parents are still walking the planet, has started a new career and can still make me laugh and smile. I'm beginning to remember what a lucky girl I truly am!
Which of us can know from whence our joy will come? That it showed up in the form of an old and dear friend causes gratitude to well from the deepest part of me.
Hope your days are filled with wonder, awe and a whole lotta joy as well.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Time and Again
Through ragged and raspy breath, she begged,
"Please, don't do this,
please"
and
hanging her head
she sent silent prayers to her otherwise occupied gods
then waited for the end to her suffering.
Seconds later she opened her swollen eyes
and found him
mouth open
gun drooped
passed out
in the chair before which she knelt.
Gently and carefully,
like a mother who strokes the hair of her sleeping child,
she removed the weapon from his hand
then her shoes so she made no sound;
she grabbed the car keys off the dresser,
her purse from off the floor
and stepped,
miraculously,
out of the door
and into freedom...
Over the next few months
she will feel rage
she will know fear
she will go to court and tell most of the truth
she will lean upon her friends and tell them all of the truth until
she can no longer bare to look at the horror
she will make plans that are different from the way she dreamed her Life to be
she will be strong
And then,
he will call
telling her how much he misses her
how much he misses their children
especially the children
he longs for them and their pure Love for him
He will remind her of the 'good' times
speak to her of the importance of family
cry to her of how wrong he was and how sorry he is
and she will listen
for his voice sings songs to her heart
it always has
perhaps
it always will
In a few weeks
maybe a month
he'll drive up with all his belongings in tow
and she will find a place for them
in the bedroom closets and drawers
she will place his underwear in the washer
and cook his meals
and laugh when he swings the baby through the air making him beg
do it again daddy, again!
And I will stand at my kitchen window,
just across the street,
and watch the coming and going.
All the while, I will remember the bruised cheek,
I will recall the blackened eye beneath its concealer,
and I will watch, over time, the smiles fade
as things return to normal
Safe in my kitchen I will wonder what I can do
besides bear witness to this tragedy.
But no solution will emerge.
At night, my dreams will be filled with violence
from which there is no escape,
Upon my nightmarish awakening
I will rush to the kitchen window
just to make sure that everything across the street is,
at least,
quiet.
Looking out across the pavement I will pray for her
and, of course, the children; then,
remembering that I am a Loving being
I will pray for him.
Standing, hip against the counter
wondering if there is any chance for peace in this world,
I'll make a cup of weak tea
and sip it
as the sun rises
soft and pink and almost new.
Commentary
Having witnessed this over and again I no longer have blame or shame for anyone involved. My mother, my friends, my father, my enemies - all have done this dance. Are there better choices to make - you bet your ass. But, people do the best they can. We struggle, cry, fall down and get up.
The best thing to do is to tell the MF the first time he tries to dominate you, to kiss your big (or small) behind and get to steppin'. But, it doesn't always happen that way, does it? Sometimes we don't make the best choice until our youngest is 16 (like my Mom) and sometimes we never get to make the good choice because that trigger is pulled.
I spent a lot of years being angry at everyone because of what I witness(ed). I've realized that my anger, real and valid though it is, changes nothing, contributes nothing, erases nothing.
Witnesses have a special responsibility to tell the truth and, I hope I have done that successfully.
I do pray for the kids in this situation , I witness their pain and my tears are for them as much as for my friend. But, I have decided not to judge her. Her choice may well be the wrong one, it may also be the one that keeps her alive. The dance is delicate and has little predictability in it. Did you know that violence typically escalates when a woman leaves?
Fact: Violence against women effect 3 to 4 million women in the United States every year. They are beaten by their husbands, ex-husbands and male lovers.
Fact: About 75% of the calls to law enforcement for intervention in domestic violence occur AFTER separation from batterers. Half of the homicides of female spouses and partners are committed by men AFTER separation from batterers.
Leaving does not necessarily make it better. I wish it automatically meant that things would change, but it doesn't. So, folks, what do we do?
"Please, don't do this,
please"
and
hanging her head
she sent silent prayers to her otherwise occupied gods
then waited for the end to her suffering.
Seconds later she opened her swollen eyes
and found him
mouth open
gun drooped
passed out
in the chair before which she knelt.
Gently and carefully,
like a mother who strokes the hair of her sleeping child,
she removed the weapon from his hand
then her shoes so she made no sound;
she grabbed the car keys off the dresser,
her purse from off the floor
and stepped,
miraculously,
out of the door
and into freedom...
Over the next few months
she will feel rage
she will know fear
she will go to court and tell most of the truth
she will lean upon her friends and tell them all of the truth until
she can no longer bare to look at the horror
she will make plans that are different from the way she dreamed her Life to be
she will be strong
And then,
he will call
telling her how much he misses her
how much he misses their children
especially the children
he longs for them and their pure Love for him
He will remind her of the 'good' times
speak to her of the importance of family
cry to her of how wrong he was and how sorry he is
and she will listen
for his voice sings songs to her heart
it always has
perhaps
it always will
In a few weeks
maybe a month
he'll drive up with all his belongings in tow
and she will find a place for them
in the bedroom closets and drawers
she will place his underwear in the washer
and cook his meals
and laugh when he swings the baby through the air making him beg
do it again daddy, again!
And I will stand at my kitchen window,
just across the street,
and watch the coming and going.
All the while, I will remember the bruised cheek,
I will recall the blackened eye beneath its concealer,
and I will watch, over time, the smiles fade
as things return to normal
Safe in my kitchen I will wonder what I can do
besides bear witness to this tragedy.
But no solution will emerge.
At night, my dreams will be filled with violence
from which there is no escape,
Upon my nightmarish awakening
I will rush to the kitchen window
just to make sure that everything across the street is,
at least,
quiet.
Looking out across the pavement I will pray for her
and, of course, the children; then,
remembering that I am a Loving being
I will pray for him.
Standing, hip against the counter
wondering if there is any chance for peace in this world,
I'll make a cup of weak tea
and sip it
as the sun rises
soft and pink and almost new.
Commentary
Having witnessed this over and again I no longer have blame or shame for anyone involved. My mother, my friends, my father, my enemies - all have done this dance. Are there better choices to make - you bet your ass. But, people do the best they can. We struggle, cry, fall down and get up.
The best thing to do is to tell the MF the first time he tries to dominate you, to kiss your big (or small) behind and get to steppin'. But, it doesn't always happen that way, does it? Sometimes we don't make the best choice until our youngest is 16 (like my Mom) and sometimes we never get to make the good choice because that trigger is pulled.
I spent a lot of years being angry at everyone because of what I witness(ed). I've realized that my anger, real and valid though it is, changes nothing, contributes nothing, erases nothing.
Witnesses have a special responsibility to tell the truth and, I hope I have done that successfully.
I do pray for the kids in this situation , I witness their pain and my tears are for them as much as for my friend. But, I have decided not to judge her. Her choice may well be the wrong one, it may also be the one that keeps her alive. The dance is delicate and has little predictability in it. Did you know that violence typically escalates when a woman leaves?
Fact: Violence against women effect 3 to 4 million women in the United States every year. They are beaten by their husbands, ex-husbands and male lovers.
Fact: About 75% of the calls to law enforcement for intervention in domestic violence occur AFTER separation from batterers. Half of the homicides of female spouses and partners are committed by men AFTER separation from batterers.
Leaving does not necessarily make it better. I wish it automatically meant that things would change, but it doesn't. So, folks, what do we do?
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Poem Speak
I.
Once I hoped,
no,
longed for your Love and touch.
I yearned, prayed, dreamed up your Love for me.
Today,
I find no reason for trading promises with the gods;
have no desire to wrap you up in my needs.
Maybe,
just maybe, I have finally grown-up.
II.
I like the way we fit;
the feel of your lips on mine
the sparkle of your eyes as you hold me
the ease of my Love for you.
I like these things,
for they make my Life richer.
A comfortable old chair, you said,
and I bristled at the metaphor.
But,
when all is said/thought/done,
that is how we are.
Worn and weathered, though not nearly broken or done.
We are experienced and time-tested.
We are living the lives we have tossed, planned and fallen into;
Loving those that fix us in our time and place and,
mostly, we are happy,
while mostly,
we are apart.
III.
How strange to feel joy in your absence
when I have known such boundless joy in the swell of your bare chest.
How odd to look forward to the next time
without a care for when that might be.
You are my enigma,
my soul mate
(though I know you do not believe that such a thing might exist
or, perhaps, simply don't believe that I am yours)
You are my unresolved fantasy
and I still float on air
remembering the crinkle of your smile.
I fall asleep to the thought of you
and wake up to the same.
51 circles,
22 cycles of hope
that someday I may know with you the kind of day-in-day-out-teeth-brushing-ass-wiping Life
that we have lived with others.
I don't see the path that leads us there but,
I hold the faith that we may yet find it.
I don't take the time to wish with all my heart any more,
but my soul still holds a place
for the possibility of you and I.
I never really know all of what you think or feel;
Such a mystery you have been
and so you remain.
But, I know your Love for me
and
I know my Love for you.
What else can a Life desire?
What other words can a simple poem speak?
Once I hoped,
no,
longed for your Love and touch.
I yearned, prayed, dreamed up your Love for me.
Today,
I find no reason for trading promises with the gods;
have no desire to wrap you up in my needs.
Maybe,
just maybe, I have finally grown-up.
II.
I like the way we fit;
the feel of your lips on mine
the sparkle of your eyes as you hold me
the ease of my Love for you.
I like these things,
for they make my Life richer.
A comfortable old chair, you said,
and I bristled at the metaphor.
But,
when all is said/thought/done,
that is how we are.
Worn and weathered, though not nearly broken or done.
We are experienced and time-tested.
We are living the lives we have tossed, planned and fallen into;
Loving those that fix us in our time and place and,
mostly, we are happy,
while mostly,
we are apart.
III.
How strange to feel joy in your absence
when I have known such boundless joy in the swell of your bare chest.
How odd to look forward to the next time
without a care for when that might be.
You are my enigma,
my soul mate
(though I know you do not believe that such a thing might exist
or, perhaps, simply don't believe that I am yours)
You are my unresolved fantasy
and I still float on air
remembering the crinkle of your smile.
I fall asleep to the thought of you
and wake up to the same.
51 circles,
22 cycles of hope
that someday I may know with you the kind of day-in-day-out-teeth-brushing-ass-wiping Life
that we have lived with others.
I don't see the path that leads us there but,
I hold the faith that we may yet find it.
I don't take the time to wish with all my heart any more,
but my soul still holds a place
for the possibility of you and I.
I never really know all of what you think or feel;
Such a mystery you have been
and so you remain.
But, I know your Love for me
and
I know my Love for you.
What else can a Life desire?
What other words can a simple poem speak?
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Driving Through Life
The title sounds far more philosophical than I feel, at this moment. My car, a solid 1997 Saturn has hiccuped and coughed the past week. I've been concerned about its wellbeing for awhile but, now, I'm afraid I will have to invest a dear amount of money to keep it happy.
I suppose after 11 years it is not too much to ask that I spring for a few parts and attention. I am however, one of those Americans who has lost real income due to the economic downturn (which started 8 years ago with the tech stock adjustment and has been squeezing poor and middle class folks since) fueled by increases in gas costs which has lead to the increases in everything else.
Smart though I believe myself to be, I jumped off the high paying job train in 1991 and have never quite recovered financially. My choice, and I certainly have to take responsibility for that one. Unfortunately, it is compounded by the poor choices made by those powerful politicians who decided that war and the prosperity of a few were more important than the well being of the citizens they were sworn to serve.
As I listen to the campaigners I have a sense of disgust at the way those in and aspiring to office handle politics and the running of this country. It would be sad if it wasn't so damn frightening.
All that being said, I have to decide what to give up in order to have a functioning car. I should probably buy a new one but the idea of signing up for 4 - 5 years of debt sends a chill up my spine.
I'm complaining and I do apologize. I'm just get tired of not having enough. I can do without the frivolous and even laugh at myself when I am lamenting the loss of some indulgence. But it pisses me off when the basics, like a reliable transportation vehicle seem beyond my grasp.
And yes, I do realize there are many folks worse off than me. It makes me wonder why we are not revolting against the callousness and greed that drives our economic system. What is the carrot that we so easily chase rather than look around and say this stinks and we need to change it?
Well, if the timing is right, I'll have some work in June that will create the down payment for a new car. If not, I'm not sure what I will do. Mass transit in this city is virtually non-existent.
I suppose, if all else fails, I will just carry-on. I'll patch up whatever breaks and keep moving as best I can. That's all a girl can do, isn't it?
I suppose after 11 years it is not too much to ask that I spring for a few parts and attention. I am however, one of those Americans who has lost real income due to the economic downturn (which started 8 years ago with the tech stock adjustment and has been squeezing poor and middle class folks since) fueled by increases in gas costs which has lead to the increases in everything else.
Smart though I believe myself to be, I jumped off the high paying job train in 1991 and have never quite recovered financially. My choice, and I certainly have to take responsibility for that one. Unfortunately, it is compounded by the poor choices made by those powerful politicians who decided that war and the prosperity of a few were more important than the well being of the citizens they were sworn to serve.
As I listen to the campaigners I have a sense of disgust at the way those in and aspiring to office handle politics and the running of this country. It would be sad if it wasn't so damn frightening.
All that being said, I have to decide what to give up in order to have a functioning car. I should probably buy a new one but the idea of signing up for 4 - 5 years of debt sends a chill up my spine.
I'm complaining and I do apologize. I'm just get tired of not having enough. I can do without the frivolous and even laugh at myself when I am lamenting the loss of some indulgence. But it pisses me off when the basics, like a reliable transportation vehicle seem beyond my grasp.
And yes, I do realize there are many folks worse off than me. It makes me wonder why we are not revolting against the callousness and greed that drives our economic system. What is the carrot that we so easily chase rather than look around and say this stinks and we need to change it?
Well, if the timing is right, I'll have some work in June that will create the down payment for a new car. If not, I'm not sure what I will do. Mass transit in this city is virtually non-existent.
I suppose, if all else fails, I will just carry-on. I'll patch up whatever breaks and keep moving as best I can. That's all a girl can do, isn't it?
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
She's Going To High School
Well, the decision is made. The woman-child will go public. It was a difficult decision and I let her make arguments for both possibilities. Her arguments were good (she is a debater, after all) and it was clear that her heart and Spirit were with the public school. She actually said "I think I'd be more comfortable (in the public school) and that would make it easier to take more risks; to try more things. There are a lot of things I want to learn about, you know."
For some it might seem insane to let a child influence this decision so deeply, but she is very special and I trust her Spirit to know what is best for her. Both schools are excellent and highly selective, though the private clearly holds the prestigious name. The public wins national honors in writing each year and that is the special program she is entering.
In some ways it is hard for me to turn down a huge scholarship like that but some other child will benefit and it will be the perfect school for them.
Well, that's our news for now. B-t-w, England pics are coming I just need the weekend to get it together!
Later Gators.
For some it might seem insane to let a child influence this decision so deeply, but she is very special and I trust her Spirit to know what is best for her. Both schools are excellent and highly selective, though the private clearly holds the prestigious name. The public wins national honors in writing each year and that is the special program she is entering.
In some ways it is hard for me to turn down a huge scholarship like that but some other child will benefit and it will be the perfect school for them.
Well, that's our news for now. B-t-w, England pics are coming I just need the weekend to get it together!
Later Gators.
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