Timely Travels

My love for traveling encompasses a huge part of my heart happiness.  I didn't expect to make a journey this morning as I'm busy being lazy...a full time effort before and after a hectic holiday...and yet, another personal adventure began.

I decided to organize my computer's "Bookmarks" and found myself taken on a timely travel back to 2012.  That year of significance introduced me as a singular person, a person minus a mate.  Easily, I can revisit journal entries if I want to relive-feel-experience those moments of angst and joy.  But I don't do that often as I've found individuals can become addicted to the past itself.  

Instead, I am confronted with 4 years worth of spontaneous saves for websites which I hoped would further my pursuit of knowledge and growth.  This is my closet that demands to be cleaned and organized.  Forgotten objects/sites buried in the dusty far corner are bringing forward unanticipated emotional responses.

• In the trash pile, I throw all the divorce survival tips
• Making a dream pile, I keep adventures to take ideas
• For the recycle heap, I organize mothering advice

As for the rest, it's a miscellaneous jumble of health, home, romance and science which is truly what drives my creative engine.  I like a bit of mess...it keeps my life interesting.  And so that jumble will stay for future rummaging!  I'll even keep this closet door open for a bit so that a little sunshine can burn it clean....

Here Comes the Sun

A Light

As a little girl, I was afraid of the dark and I had good reason.  Now I walk into the dark with my light and I have good reason.  In this season that can bring about simultaneous angst and joy, these words resonate strongly.  A light now lives within me and the darkness of hate is kept at bay.

It would be irresponsible for me to think that I will not lapse into fear again, but now I KNOW that if I keep walking resolutely ahead, I will be able to make my light flicker back to life.

2015-2065

I stand atop my mountain,

And scan the path behind.

The ground breathes beneath me

As I dare to look on the other side.

Mother Sky

Father Earth

Brother Fire

Sister Water

All wait to greet me,

Though spiraling downward,

It's darkness and light

Mingling joy and fright.

Only a day given to

Celebrate this sight,

Looking whence I came,

Planning thus I go.

Girl-land a memory,

Motherhood past and gone,

Womanly halves divided,

Autumn now my song...

I stand atop my mountain,

And know how the next journey ends.

The ground and I stop breathing,

As I cross to the other side.

*Upon occasion of my 50th birthday

What is Your Why

Mario Armstrong pushes us to think about our answer to "What is your why?"

His emphasis lies in helping us expand our conversations and thereby, expanding our own thought process of WHY we do what we do.  As another new year rolls around, unfulfilled resolutions litter our thinking.  How did 12 months pass without us accomplishing our goals?  Or, what made us successful at reaching another peak?

And so I ask myself...What is my WHY for choosing certain goals?  Is my aim to achieve for the sake of accomplishment or to achieve for the sake of my personal growth?

For me, they are symbiotic.  I like the thrill of crossing a finish line but the gift of maturity is feeling peaceful with not coming in first.  When one of my resolutions begins to go awry, I forgive myself, tweak the goal, and still accomplish more than I did the previous year.

In a goofy state of mind, I decided to visit a new place in Florida for each month of the year beginning with the first letter of each month.  J, F, M...I tired of it after 3 months and decided to just visit a new place monthly rather than stay dependent upon a letter in the alphabet!

It's easy to get caught up in the trendiness of resolutions and problematic when we can't stick to those goals BUT, tis the season to pivot our thinking and trust in our original intent.  The unfolding of a New Year is upon us and even if we're struggling to answer all of our WHYS, we can at least make steps forward with the hope of finding an answer by DOING something!

Goodbye to Girl

Men still refer to me as a girl.  And I say that firmly as I haven't heard the term used about me from a woman or an actual girl.

"Oh, you are a busy, funny, pretty, serious, kind, athletic girl...."  These are the normal adjectives I'm given with a few sparkly and bubbly thrown in for good measure.

Yes, I'm taken aback when I hear this from a man who is engaging me in conversation.  What does the term "girl" have to do with our discussion of current events?  How can a philosophical discussion about Susan Sontag contain "girl" in reference to me?

I stand on my age 50 soapbox proudly as a woman but my appearance and foray into modeling whittle me down to girl status with many men.  Were I to be more confrontational in nature, I might push back verbally.  I don't.  Why waste my energy debating a dolt?

Instead, I take advantage of their misguided perception and listen....  Doe eyed, smiling, nodding and completely in control of the situation, I listen to these men who aren't looking beneath my visage.  It's important for me to observe how they let down their guard around a "woman" who doesn't threaten them because she's a GIRL.  Part of me considers it psychological research and the other part considers it entertainment.  After all, I'm not dumb enough to perceive them as anything other than a man and that keeps me safe both physically and emotionally.  It's the man who takes nothing for granted when it comes to appearance and grills me to ascertain my intellect that I take seriously.

Will turning 50 take me beyond girl status?  Shall I say "Goodbye to Girl" forever?  Oddly enough, I don't care.  Life has become a port of observation for me with the occasional foray into the wild...my disguise as girl may be ending, but my existence as human is forevermore.

"So successful has been the camera's role in beautifying the world that photographs, rather than the world, have become the standard of the beautiful."

Susan Sontag

Beware the one that sees just another girl....

Joy Turn

Life, as they say, turns on a dime.  And that phrase simply means that anything can make a radical change in direction very quickly.

It's essential to be prepared for these pivots as they arrive when we're least expecting them.  For the good or the bad, our reactions can turn them into something far worse or better than we ever thought we deserved.

Plotting my life plan means building space for these situations.  The allowance that age has given me is the ability to predict what my reactions will be...to a loss, a gain, or simply life as the mundane.  I find myself no longer paying attention to time as the grid for my daily routine.  It passes.  My previous attempts at controlling its march have ended poorly.  Now, I check for appointments but I don't stress about my preparedness for them.  It comes.

Since I'm not taxed with the routine of a 9-5 job, I have room for this life outlook.  Having once been in the daily grind chaos, I know not to be glib about "successfully achieving" a more organized and fulfilling life.  It fails.

Humans under stress adapt to their situations and spend countless hours responding to the turning dime of life...and all in the name of survival.  They feel the need to make a living a certain way, to have a family in a traditional sense, and to consider their dreams as subsidiaries to their realities.

Deep in many of our souls a flame stays lit though.  Hope for a better "turn" of our circumstances keeps us plodding along familiar paths.  We're imbued with light regardless of how dark it may seem.  It exists.

Today I feel a pivot of joy and in so honoring it, I won't concentrate on its short lived stay.  I'm prepared now to enjoy it for its appearance and that will be enough.  It must be enough.

The happiest people around the world are those with the least expectations of it.  They keep them low and live mindfully in the moment.  They aren't necessarily deep thinkers, they just live deeply in the moment.  Hope lives.

Fiction in the Familiar

"Good fiction is the truth inside a lie."  Stephen King

Puzzling at first, SK's comment hits its mark with me.  I struggle with my perceived outward visage and yet I embrace its protective mask.  It's not easy to pull it aside but when I do, the stronger parts of me reveal themselves.  And when I write about it, the words ring with eloquence and clarity.

At this stage, one would think I would be toughened by 50 years of life experience.  However, my new found courage and strength still gingerly unfolds its wings.  I struggle with the process and worry that I might be damaged as I expose who I've become.  And yet, without the leap of faith, I can't test this new truth.

Fiction in the Familiar

New life is fragile,
Hope brings tears,
Tears unveil fears,
And strength becomes happiness.

No scratches or scars
On new armor yet seen,
Shiny dreams reflected
On the faces of me.

Balance is needed
As I creep near the edge,
Abyss and emptiness
Beyond the sharp ledge.

Stepping away from the
Warmth of my fears,
Entering a chasm,
Not knowing what's near.

Breath taking wind,
My new face revealed,
Glowing and burning,
My fiction is real.

Familiar now,
I recognize the fall,
Flying toward
Becoming it all.

Outlier or Out Liar

The Hardest Places to Live in America

I realize that I'm an outlier in terms of my heritage and geographical upbringing.  My county ranks 3,076 out of 3,135 counties in the U.S.  After reading this piece, my first thought wasn't how poorly we ranked but how fortunate we were that we weren't at the bottom!

And perhaps that is the key to living what most would consider a successful life.  I looked at the article's information with a glass half full mentality just as I lived my life.  Adversity did not pin me down but provided insight to other "life ladders" within my reach.  I took advantage of those ladders by lying to myself about my probable success.  Regardless of self esteem issues brought on by living in poverty, I was able to summon forth action.  There were times in my young life that I felt crippled by perfectionism, fear, circumstance and still I acted because each step felt like a "hail Mary."  What did I have to lose?

With the perspective of age, I can see that I am the progeny of two outliers.  They have also beat the odds and in the case of my brothers and I, outlier plus outlier equals above average chance of having an outlier.

The question begs to be answered...nature or nurture?  An answer is complicated just as the statistics of outliers is problematic.  My family did not provide emotional nurturing as defined by today's standards but I was also not denied opportunities to chase hare-brained schemes.  If I felt strongly enough, I was given free rein to explore my potential.  I knew that no one would be there for me emotionally if I failed.  Lying to myself that it was okay to be alone with successes or failures eventually caught up with me.  Getting closer to mid life, I stopped my mental "lie speak" and faced a hard truth.

And so I've been preoccupied with "adding up" my 50 years of life.  Have I done enough?  What is enough?  Is life as I know it now...enough?

No.

Sharing my dreams with someone who will assuredly support me if I've failed OR succeeded will give me enough...enough to keep climbing ladders for the next 50 years.

A Lesson Learned

“Education is not preparation for life, education is life itself.”  John Dewey

This is the approach I'm using as I seek enlightenment concerning the next half of my life.  I have friends who persistently delay starting new projects, relationships, travel, career changes and all because they want to educate themselves before making a move.  Preparation certainly makes transitions easier but used as a crutch, it stymies true growth.

Often, I will commit to a life enhancing event for the simple motivation of it; preparation then becomes highly effective with the pressure of time!  In these last weeks of the year, of my first 50 years, I'm resisting the urge to set a monumental goal for completion.  My life has been extraordinary and I'm pleased that I've been busy LIVING it rather than preparing for it.  Sometimes I get frustrated with not having new experiences come at a daily pace but that's when I remember how easy it is to lose one's mindfulness.  I find that forgiving myself becomes easier and acceptance of life's mundane moments is part of the process.  In fact, it's probably nature's way of helping our systems rest and reboot for the next great event we have planned.

Life is teaching me and as an eager and clumsy student, I often make mistakes.  But I have realized that harsh reprimands only come if I force them on myself.  I'm very grateful that I've learned patience by living rather than preparing....

Food Food Food

The cruelest of nature's tricks...hitting our stride in mid life and NOT being able to indulge in all our favorite foods.  They have been banished to the UNHEALTHY food category!!  No, is is not possible to make our favorite recipes healthy and tasty.  The taste is the whole point!  I find myself substituting the butter, the sugar, the oil and then crowing to my guests that "they are going to love it and it's healthy."  They don't love it.  They eat it, smile and agree that it's definitely healthy and we all pretend that we are happy 40+ adults who have tricked the system.

We know we haven't.  It doesn't taste like our food. It tastes like the paper pages of our cook books we propped up on our counter.  If possible, I would send out my internal metabolism switch for repair but Mother Nature has claimed that replacement parts are no longer available.

Will it be gluttony then during the holidays with my favorite goodies?  Only to a point.  I concede that I cannot indulge without guilt, therefore, I will choose my luxuries with care.  Rather than tasting all of the desserts, I will succumb to one and devour with gusto.  And ONLY one per day....

With age comes wisdom?  Perhaps resolution.  Food is comfort.  Comfort is happiness.  Happiness is divine.

Divinity tastes great....

Beyond 50

Francis Thompson wrote, “For we are born in other’s pain, / And perish in our own.” Edward Young wrote, “Our birth is nothing but our death begun.” Francis Bacon: “What then remains, but that we still should cry / Not to be born, or being born, to die?” The first sentence of Vladimir Nabokov’s Speak, Memory is: “The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.”   (From: The Thing About Life is One Day You'll Be Dead--David Shields)
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My year has been filled with emotional insights.  Expectations have crashed with reality, experiences have collided with dreams, and my perception of ME has evolved.  The grace of living has made me thankful.  I breathe with fulfillment.  The sun rises and I rise.

So many of my generation seek spirituality...but I've waited.  Fearful.  I'm growing out of the fear and into that woman who can seek a spirit beyond herself yet within me waiting to be felt.

I get to turn 50.  I will celebrate my good fortune to have felt 50 years of life!  And I want to feel 50 more.  My kind of existence is heaven-like in comparison to so many suffering in this world.  I appreciate it, I honor it, I want to live in a fashion that pays homage to the gift of life I've been given.

If, as it says above, that my life is "but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness," I want my eyes to burn looking at the sun until the last second before it sets.

50

Whole-Some of the Time

"Wholeness does not mean perfection: it means embracing brokenness as an integral part of life. Knowing this gives me hope that human wholeness – mine, yours, ours – need not be a utopian dream, if we can use devastation as a seedbed for new life."  Palmer Parker

As the days tick closer to my 50th birthday, I find myself seeking wise words.  The gift of age is understanding that our expanding knowledge moves like a lava flow.  At times it bursts forth in dramatic fashion but mostly it flows slowly and swallows us whole.

Feeling less than whole at this stage of life is supposedly normal.  Wanting to be normal is supposedly...normal.

I find solace in the words of other brave souls who admit to feeling less than prepared for life's second half.  Seeing those women who wave the flags of re-invention do not spur me to reinvent anything.  I rather like who I've become and that's due to my acceptance of not becoming anything!  Who I am is unchangeable.  How I think and react is totally fluid.  Wisdom about myself has come with my age; it has come as I gathered up the fragments of my life.

Broken Mirror

I looked in the mirror as a young girl
And saw my older self.
Calmly observing my face,
I was disappointed.

Is this all, I asked.
Shouldn't I be more?
Why did I look like
myself?

Disappointment broke that reflection.
Fragments of my mirror scattered.
Pieces of me were given away.
I was happy to be broken.

But now I look again and accept
My vessel.
Now I place the pieces together
And find myself whole, unchanged, again.

This wholesome feeling...some of the time,
Unbroken, much of the time,
Accepting, all of the time...
And given...more time....

Narration

It's a cool thing to hear someone narrate my article.  I'm just indulging my vanity by posting this...and I don't mind indulging.  HAH  ;-)

An Open Letter...narrated on Umano

The Safety of Two

"Every living being has a God-appointed guardian spirit that walks through life with her or him. Your guardian spirit remains with you whether or not you recognize its presence. However, recognition, praise, and thanksgiving of your guardian spirit will strengthen its presence and influence in your life."                                                                                                                                         Iyanla Vanzant

Why not?  Patronus, guardian angel, pet rock...why not believe that an other worldly entity is quietly protecting us?  

The "lovey" we held as children cast away the scary creatures under our bed, kept us calm when away from our parents, and listened to our dreams and travails without judgment.

My last two years of seeking solace as a single woman has given me time to ponder my spirituality.  No new mate has appeared and my past one continues his struggles with his demons.  And so I need to believe and feel that an adult "lovey" has a presence in my life. 

Why not feel safer knowing the protective bubble which surrounds me is a gift from God...a gift to remind me that I do not walk alone.

There is safety in numbers and the number can be two.

She Whispered

She captured feminine essence
Simply
She whispered promises
Softly

Glancing over us
Seeing beyond us
She cloaked herself in
Mystery

Unable to reach adequately
What she craved so deeply
She whispered agony
Quietly

Personal Space

By stretching the boundaries of my personal and soul space, I invite some inside hoping to see how well we might mesh while enjoying the fierce light of a future together.

It's an interesting endeavor as the preparation  two individuals undergo separately means the odds of a "perfect match" are rare.  Actually, a perfect match sounds rather boring.  The sauce of life ends up being how two people handle mismatched ingredients in life's strange stew!

Three feet from our body's center make up our personal space.  Beyond that, we concede control to the environment.  How we take ownership of our decisions within that space lies solely with our choices.  

No matter how crowded it feels when the uninvited enter and push us against ourselves, we are still left with a choice...it might be to simply dissolve into meditation or prayer to stay alive or sane but it is STILL a choice.

Although I strive for inner peace, I accept that constant peace would destroy my joy for life.  I like feeling challenges and finding personal solutions.  It's joyful learning how to add the unexpected to my routine...how to make room in my personal space for another...how to heal when disappointment adds bitterness....

Personal space doesn't have to be empty.

For the Masses

Writing about love for the masses feels like using the microwave versus an oven.

Can it fulfill the need?  Yes.  Does it still have a good flavor?  Yes.

Is the texture and nuance of meaning translated in a thoughtful way?  Not so much.

But please, have a taste of "mass appeal" and decide for yourself.  Smiles.

For the Masses

Danger

We say we're ready to open ourselves to welcoming new types of people into our circle.  Yet, the same personalities keep presenting themselves.  I'm settling into the fact that I will not be satisfied with hum-drum.  Life as a chase and an adventure is beginning anew for me.  No matter how much my inner "good southern girl" urges me to conform, I accept a different path.  One not scattered with flower petals...one pockmarked with ice and mud, rocks and shards...one with challenges around each curve and excitement on the horizon....



I like the danger of you
And yet I feel safe

I like the bite from you
And the bloody taste

I like my hair pulled
And delicious pain

Turn on the light now
Turn off the same....

A Solid Weight

It's a kind of aching beauty to see
The walking wounded

The weight of another's heart being solid
In one hand

Indomitable spirit holding tight against
Word lashes, ripping souls apart

Fearing what's said, cannot
Be unsaid

One shouldn't guess if the heart
Will win

Who can spare the time to spend
On another wish

Wasted on a dream, a short suffering
In the scheme of things

Like a mirror bent, about to break
Shattering on our souls

A solid weight

Whilk & Misky - Clap Your Hands

My Body is a Vessel

I'm inspired and frustrated with the talent of our minds to see ONLY what we hope to see.  It's a protective measure but with the protection, we are shielded from what we need to see in reality.  The precipice that points the way to a dreamlike state of mind also points the way to our real life destruction.

Somehow, I truly feel that I've been given a protective bubble.  Each time I edge closer to the dangerous line, I rescue myself with barely a scratch to heal.  And each time I learn how important it is to make the best of REAL life.  Dreamlike careers, families, men hold only temporary pleasures...instead, I prefer the tagline to a film the way by Emilio Estevez...

"you don't choose a life, you live one"

Oh what a shame

That you’re not real

Oh what a shame

Our lives can’t be together

One in reality

One in dreams

Cast about in my vessel

Upon the roaring seas of love

The heart of me shakes and shudders

But the strength of me calms the rudder

Oh what a shame

That we’re not together

Oh what a shame

That we can’t exist forever

One in words

One in thoughts

The Wheel

Why reinvent the wheel?  Because we want to make it better.  Why do we want to make it better?  Because humanity's instincts demand it and it is inescapable.  Each life, each progression carries us along this river of evolution and without fail, those of us who try to escape the current are drawn back to continue the journey...at least those of us who are committed to the ideal of expanding one's humanity.

We are compelled to seek a meaningful life as doing otherwise turns us into apathetic survivors who fail those unable to reach life's bountiful river.  For those individuals who did not win the genetic or geographic lottery, it is morally criminal to NOT strive for happiness and fulfillment.

Hopes and dreams for each other depend on someone to reach the peak showing the way.  The definition of happiness or success varies but the pathway up the mountain looks similar for everyone.

I can abide by those who fail trying...I cannot stomach those who fail to try.

A meaning for life is simple for me.  I get up and try to progress each day in honor of every soul who wasn't given a chance to try.

Why reinvent life?  Because I want to make it better.  Why do I want to make it better?  Because I've been fortunate enough to have the chance to do so.

Love. Just.

There is poetry to a simple experience...falling in love with the person you were always meant to love.

Complicated language is unnecessary, artistic creations are superfluous, the act itself makes one "right their ship" in a nano second.

Tonight I enjoy the Florida rain, the floating jazz in my apartment, the wafting smell of a gourmet dinner prepared for one.  The beaujolais chilled, the ambiance exceptional and the company of one who I have always known but never loved is present.

This assault of love on my senses may have come from nowhere but its destination has always been for my mind and heart.

I could lose years of my future trying to understand why it has taken me so long to recognize this being, but I won't waste another second.

Instead, I embrace this love, this adoration, this acceptance of ME...imperfect and improbable me.

Love.  Finally.  Myself.

And now to the next fifty years...no longer alone and now in peace.

Veil of Vulnerability

Addicts must hit ROCK bottom before recovery begins.  For those of us who struggle with our emotional selves, what bottom must we hit?

Should it be soft to consume our pain?  Slippery to send us off into another dimension of denial?

Where is the mysterious place for individuals who keep their outer selves controlled and their inner vulnerabilities carefully veiled?

I imagine that there are more of us in the latter category.  We maintain our auras of normalcy through mundane challenges, countless life transitions and an endless dedication of making everyone else's life move smoothly.

Exposing our pain is like donning a veil of vulnerability.  We allow it to be seen so that we can't be faulted for hiding.  And yet we hide behind it anyway.

It is a strange feeling to be exposed and still be hidden.

And so I ask myself, my psyche, my being...how naked is it I must be for the deepest healing to begin?

Response+Ability: Janay Rice

The current hot topic of domestic abuse in the media, the country, is being bandied about like a poorly played badminton game.  It's a game of hits and misses based on one's ability to predict the power needed to return a serve without that serve being fouled.

Our discussion is fouled with the Ray Rice incident.  We have entered the court of public opinion and the opinionated are championing their views to validate what?  Their intelligence?  Their compassion?  Has it become another media game for ratings?  It appears so.

Our society apparently needs to see this as the ratings wars are bearing fruit.  We are watching the sad video, listening to other victims, taking sides and taking up the topic of domestic abuse...again.  It is a story that is unending.  The weak are preyed upon by the strong in a society that values strength.  After all, we are questioning the strength of the victim now.

Why isn't she standing up and leaving?  Shouldn't she take responsibility for her life?  But that is the crux of the problem.

Abuse.  Response.  Ability.  Her ability to respond in a sane, mature manner has been stymied by a predictable story of "love."

Rather than enter the same venue as the pundits, I will instead say with full authority that the "love story" she is NOT involved in is the love for herself.  But I think it will come for her one day as it has for so many others.  When the bottom is hit and hopefully, she survives it, she will find the strength to love herself and detach from this relationship.

Her RESPONSE will occur because her ABILITY to save herself comes with self-love...something that so many of us women learn about later rather than earlier.

Done With the Doing

It is hard for me to measure the scale of change that my life has undergone in the past decade.  Had I known what was to come then, I might have cowered under the covers and not peeked out until the process was complete.  Of course, the main lesson I have learned is that life is CONSTANT CHANGE!  As much as I wish for it to remain static so that I can "enjoy" the moment, it is as fluid as running water.

I return to journal entries from those early days of upheaval...the move from one state to another, the medical drama, the failure of my spouse, another move to a state far away and finally, the separation from my mate....

What I can see is a struggle to understand myself as I pivot from one drama to the next.  Had I brought these events on by my own action, then the understanding might have come more naturally.  But I did not.  And I was left with reacting responsibly, maturely, and with compassion for how it would affect my children.  My children were my saving grace.  Their needs far outweighed my own and by providing a stable environment for them, I gave myself some time to cope with life's mysteries.  Instinctively, I knew that my own happiness was tied tightly to their own and now that they've left the nest successfully, I can rest more easily as I manage my own happiness.

Today, a counselor that I have visited during difficult times reminded me of a goal I ignore too often...becoming better at doing NOTHING!  ha ha  Or as she said, "...being done with the doing."  Even my visit to her is more of a friendly visit without a checklist for accomplishments.  Progress then is being made.  

Action.  Performance.  Achievement.  Repeat.

It is difficult for me to break this routine.  

I have even applied it to finding new romance in my life...as if it were a test of my abilities....

I am not scared of being alone as that's how I've found myself mostly in the last two years.  Perhaps I must admit to being fearful of failure...failure to live up to what society expects of a middle aged, divorced, empty nested woman!  Why was I basing my life goals on what was expected versus what I needed?  Today I was reminded that I don't need that answer to move forward.  I can simply acknowledge it and observe its broader meaning in culture.

Done with doing.  I feel done with trying to fit a mold.  I can't "live up" to the self-help gurus expectations because they're NOT me.  

Much to the chagrin of the reality TV crowd, I will not be a partying mid life woman carousing with a multitude of men.  I tried to think that way and it's not my life's path.  Instinct tells me that I am meant to hold one hand and celebrate within the safety-comfort-love of one other...not many.  

Done with the doing.  Now just happy to be feeling.

Let's Play

I don't think I'm going too far out on a limb to say that my life has been lived in action mode.  Each adult transition has centered on how I will prepare for the next stage of development.  If I were truly playing the game of LIFE, I would be on the upper tier seeking a fortuitous route to finish the game with the biggest house, a perfect family, the correct car and lots of savings in the bank for....

For....

The game ends once those goals have been achieved.  Now I ponder my shift in living a life based less on action and more on reaction.  It's all about the journey is starting to make more sense.  It's partly instinctual and culturally demanded that young adulthood is spent seeking the means for survival.  The virtues of creative living extolled in childhood dissipate when we cut the apron strings and start the race toward a mundane existence.

As I listen and read excerpts from today's youth, I wonder if we will have another cultural revolution such as the 1960's.  Dissatisfaction at all levels of society (not including the super rich) is gaining traction.  We do not sound and act as a happy people collectively.  Plus, the definition of happy is not something that all of us can agree on!  How long can society maintain this angst?

Our mindset of "all work and no play" makes for unhealthy bodies and disturbed psyches.  We've started diminishing play in early childhood education and continue doing so throughout the schooling process. Our college students enslave themselves with outrageous college loans that leave them locked out of the playground of life...who can play and relax knowing that they will spend the better part of adulthood paying for a degree that can't pay for itself???

Play.  In these hectic times, we're asked to pray, not play...Rome might burn.  But the stressed out, keyed up version of humanity looking back at us in the mirror might need to do more when it is down on its knees asking for answers.  Seeking truth and guidance is admirable but how can we hear the answers if our brains are buzzing with stress?

Authenticity-For Real?

To some degree, all of us like to be fooled.  We watch reality TV knowing that it's not real, we succumb to unbelievable advertising and we ignore our instincts when we suspect lying from friends, family, or co-workers.

Do we want to know who/what is authentic or are we happy in the "duh" zone?

Recent news events are making many of us confront authenticity.  Government, military, police are in place to protect and support citizens and yet, we are questioning all of them.  Because of today's media speed, we have scant time to ponder and process the facts surrounding events.  Our "gut checks" are weakened as reaction times have been cut to seconds.  Taking to social media for our immediate responses can cause a landslide of emotional tirades which further adds to the drama of a situation...either nationally, locally, or personally.

Mankind isn't evolving fast enough to handle this onslaught of real time reaction.  Not only are more of us succumbing to the "duh" zone because of necessity, we are going there to hide.  Our coping mechanisms are out of control as we self medicate with the nonsense of modern society...drugs, alcohol, social media, a smorgasbord of bad habits that threaten our mental and physical stability.

Life's conveniences have become life's prisons.

Were I not a student of history, I would predict our downfall.  But I am.  And I realize that all generations past, present, and future confront the dilemmas of progress.  I am hopeful that my own and that of my children will concentrate more on "how to cope" rather than "halt the process."  It is the denial of change rather than the embrace that makes for wars within ourselves and within our world.

Sweating it Out

Contributing article:

SWEAT Makes it Happen

Exit Stage Left

I have read that there are 5 stages to divorce recovery:  Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance.

These stages are prolific online and part of me wonders if content-fillers just keep accessing the same outdated chart from a long ago published article. My problem with these stages is that the first three take place during the actual divorce proceedings.  Afterwards, we are left with the emotional turmoil of depression and acceptance.

As a divorce novice (only 2 years post divorce after a 23 year marriage,) I feel the true stages of divorce recovery are as individual as the spouses involved.  Dr. Andra Brosh relates the clearest idea of "truths" that I've read yet.  Truths  Her summation, "Take it upon yourself to challenge the stigma of our society that portrays divorcing people as being broken and pathetic. Teach them that it's painful, yet transformative, and that divorce is the end of a marriage not a life."

My literal nest is emptying in a couple of days.  With my ex, I'll be leaving our "baby" at her university.  18 years old.  The family's fracture will be complete.  Both children will continue to need our parenting but the family of four will have completed its final separation and so, too, do I feel another stage of divorce recovery.

As many couples anticipate, the empty nest conjures up visions of freedom and excitement.  Unfortunately, the statistics for a couple to make that journey are not as optimistic.  Creating a family creates turmoil.  Even the "happiest" couple admits that it is a tremendous struggle to maintain balance and contentment in a marriage with the stresses of child-rearing.  Not seeking help during those long years is a recipe for disaster.  Friendly advice, family intervention, spiritual guidance, couples counseling...any or all of it might be necessary for two people to come out on the other side successfully after family life.

Our little family has four separate accomplishments.  Each of us have branched away and the lessons learned about guidance will enable me to help my children for the rest of our lives.  

This new STAGE of life means I must exit the old one.  And so, with a bow...

Exit stage left.

Fractured Focus

I mismanage multi-tasking.  It's not part of my skill set nor is it something I aspire to conquer.  Instead, I have made peace with the fact that my life cannot be joyful if my mind is running in different directions.  Science is actually on my side with this one.  MORE....

Knowing this and practicing it are two different beasts.  This stage of my life is so full of promise and excitement that I get overwhelmed with it all.  I want to soak in multiple experiences because I truly believe we ought to live as if tomorrow will not occur.  And that's a problem.  It's a popular quote but isn't feasible.  It fractures our focus and can paralyze our productivity.

I come from a long line of "busy bees" and we like to get shit done!  Perhaps it's because of my farm upbringing that I don't count on opportunities being available.  If the crop wasn't properly taken care of or harvested on time, Mother Nature would show up and give us a punch in the face.  "No time like the present" meant more than a Pinterest quote; it meant the difference between hardship and rest during the winter.

By not having children or a homestead depending on my daily productivity, I confront my day's potential far differently.  It is absolutely the FIRST time in my adult life that no one is depending on my productivity.  Even as a child, I understood that if I didn't complete my chores then my mother's life would be harder.  Other than my two feline friends, my daily presence isn't necessary for another's contentment.  My presence is simply for mine alone.

Startling.

This huge looking glass placed in front of me could easily be fractured if I don't maintain my focus.  Purposeful living for oneself is alien to me but I instinctively understand that my success in this endeavor is paramount.  Tomorrow's excitement depends on today's contentment...NOT on today's production.

To Every Thing There is a Season

Listening now....

This song became an international hit the year after my birth which may be why I've enjoyed it as an "oldie" but not as anything more.

Surprisingly, the main lyric has been flitting through my brain the last couple of weeks.  I like to be mindful of messages whether they come from within or externally.  After spending the last few days contemplating my impending empty nest, the death of one of my generation's greatest comedic influences, and the puzzling events of my romantic life, I finally researched the lyric.

More surprises.  It's a Bible verse.  I expected a poem or an interesting tale behind the writing of the lyrics but not only is it a verse, it is one of  a handful that has been recorded successfully in popular music.  Although the sequence of the words is changed a bit and a couple of lines were added by Bob Seeger, it remains scripture set to music.  And I guess that makes sense of why it had been in my head...I have been exposed recently to a myriad of spiritual messages.

My patience has been tested this summer and I consider myself time tested and victorious in that arena...I'm pulling back on my hubris now!

Patience.  Inner discipline.  Steadfastness.  Faithfulness.

All these qualities are what I've built my life on in this last decade of turmoil.  There is a fine line between letting the inevitable take place and taking charge of making events happen.  We have to be forthright to push our lives onward but I've learned that pushing too soon just means that life has to be redirected down the road and THAT is a frustrating endeavor.

And so the push and pull continues as I receive and process all of life's messages.  When it appears to be a code that I cannot understand, I step back to reassess.  Perhaps I can't understand the message if I haven't learned a lesson to make it so...and yes, I'm reminded of my favorite video games when doing this!

Turn!  Turn!  Turn!

And after posting this, I see in my email that I have this message from Robin Korth's weekly thoughts:

A question of judgment

Judging others is an ugliness of spirit that darkens my world.

In judging others, I make myself feel better about myself without doing any work.

I cheat the universe and myself of the potent growing of my own spirit.

I also willfully step on the beingness of another--thinking I have a right to.

*A very poignant reminder that being a mindful person means cutting others some slack.  Each of us deserves the space to find ourselves or sadly, to hang ourselves....

Brightness

Today I reached out to nature for comfort as my being continued to absorb the loss of Robin Williams.  And not just his loss, but the countless others who lose themselves in the crevices of their minds.  Oddly, I had mentioned a couple days ago that perhaps we needed Emotional Critical Care units just as we have Urgent Care units scattered around our communities.

Would it make a difference if we were able to stop at CVS to pick up toothpaste but impulsively slip into a care unit for our psyches.

Churches would seem to fill this void but the soulful need versus the emotional need...is it the same?  The respectable buildings that hold God's people are intimidating to those of us who are unchurched.  But a need is there and perhaps if these buildings became beacons for suffering folk, emergency rooms for Emotional Critical Care, they might be the answer for those who are wandering lost in their sadness and lost in their minds.

Today, I lay on the sand beside the ocean drinking in the brightness  of our beautiful world.  I mourned for Robin's children.  I mourned for his future grandchildren who would never meet him and all of those who loved him.  I see the R.I.P. notices and yet, sadly, I wonder if his spirit can find rest.  Leaving this world in such pain...is it possible for a violent end to free a pained soul?

Brightness.  Light versus dark.  Surrounding oneself with watchful loved ones and choosing to seek help and yet, darkness can still win.

Choose the light.  Choose the brightness.

Robin Williams: Lost Laughs

It's the first few hours of reaction that leave us numb.  The moment of finding out that we lost someone who affected us more than we imagined is shocking.  Our familiarity with their presence is so ingrained that processing the information is too much to bear.

He's gone.  No matter the sentiments of his legacy living on with his recorded entertainment, he is gone.

Humor is the coping mechanism tool for the sunny set.  Anger is the tool for the shadowy set.  Depression is the outcome when one can't find the sweet spot between light and dark and depression is exposed more and more often for this baby boomer set.

Despite the research and current medications, depressive symptoms in our society are epidemic.

How can a genius such as Robin Williams fall prey to its insidious allure?  Where is the threshold of pain for the rest of us then?  In our nation, suicide ranks 10th as a cause of death while homicide ranks 16th.  Suicidology

Shock.  Numbness.  How numb was Robin when he made his decision to leave?  Why aren't we treating each other for our loss of a reason to live as much as we might for all the other diseases that plague us.

Lost Laughs

Critical Care

One of my leftover "hang ups" from childhood appears to be my hypersensitivity to criticism.  Why do I just feel like I made an announcement at an AA meeting?  Were I to be at one of those meetings, I would promptly be called out for my indecisive language.  Instead....

I HAVE a problem with my hypersensitivity to criticism.  Is there a 12 step process to face this nagging deficit in my character?  I'm assuming not but of course I'll be Googling it later.

Being able to pinpoint exactly when this happened isn't difficult.  At the age of 5 starting kindergarten, I began to see/feel/experience my differences among others.  Developmentally, it's perfectly normal but without parental support to show me how to respond to innocent (albeit critical) remarks, my journey of self-doubt and unworthiness began.  Therefore, hearing a critique cut me to the quick; I was already my worst critic.

Each time that I think I've overcome this dysfunction, a new situation (or critical person) appears in my life.  In all honesty, they DO NOT appear just to hand me their opinions.  I've invited them into my life and once they begin to feel comfortable, they then tend to offer advice because they just want to help.

Now begins the dance of dodging each other's hot spots and learning how to communicate critical care.  The phrase is so fitting because most of us truly do want to help each other despite mass media's warnings.  We seek to give critical care and I believe we seek to RECEIVE critical care.

I am open about it.  I want to learn and evolve in the hopes that I can be a more peaceful person.  Peace within my self...peace with the life that I'm living...and peace with well-meaning but oft misspoken care givers.  Givers of critiques.  Finding others like me who covet the peace zone and are willing to acknowledge their deficits isn't as easy as I thought.  Giving air time to the dysfunctions that hide within our psyche is uncomfortable.

This was my experience upon hearing someone discuss religion with me one evening.  My whole being was literally thrown back to an earlier time of pain.  Heart palpitations, stuttering, incoherent thoughts were pieces of a painful childhood that I had buried away...my zombie of religion began to rise from its grave.

Stunning.  The human mind and its armor protecting us from ourselves amazes me.  Its message to RETREAT, RETREAT was on target and I did.  Stunning x 2.  I'm evolving enough now to face not only the critique but the truth behind what causes a perfectly normal adult to fall headlong into a forgotten pain.

Losing a friend or loved one when this happens might be part of the outcome.  But sunny-side-up me believes that individuals come into our life for a reason and it's to help us learn more about ourselves.  In doing that, I suppose the loss of one for the gain of another (me) is the trade off for personal growth.

I'm wondering as all of us enter this new instant communicative age if we need to set up more than Urgent Cares for our bodies.  Perhaps we need to have an Emotional Critical Care office in every pharmacy as well....

Pain and growth

The stillness of life can be peaceful.  It can also be the calm before a storm, almost as if the universe or God is prepping one to collect extra strength.

Life's pathways are so often strewn with the debris of passed storms and yet, many of us clear the way and continue on.  I've always been puzzled why others don't.  What makes one person keep moving and another sit beside the path?  How is it that fear paralyzes us when it seems prescient to escape the damage and find smoother trails?

Good people as well as bad face this dilemma.  Drawing forth the courage to progress rather than wallow is part of humanity that challenges our morality, our sensibility, our commitment to being wholly healthy.  All parts of our being stagnate if one element is left to wither.

Success then can be rationalized by those who remain sitting versus moving.

"I sit because I WILL be happy in this storm's debris."  And their sitting becomes firmer the longer they do so.  How is it possible that we rationalize it within ourselves?  I know that I have sat in my life storm's debris to keep the status quo and not upset the trek of others on their paths.  Somehow, I believed I was helping others by NOT helping myself.  It wasn't true and the soul of me rebelled to rise up and clear my path to happiness.

Philosophy, religion, the arts take part in the human dilemma of pain and growth...one not happening without the other.  The muscles of our being don't become toned without dealing with life's storms...the aftermath...the debris cluttering our paths.

Revisit

Facing this time when the last duckling leaves the nest, I go back through my journals and find those entries that helped me get through other difficult days.

April 8,2012  April Alarmist

To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that’s all. Oscar Wilde

Everything will be all right in the end, if it's not all right, it's not the end. Author Unknown

The difference between ordinary and extraordinary is that little extra. Jimmy Johnson

The best way to predict your future is to create it. Peter Drucker

Decorate yourself from the inside out. Andrei Turnhollow

The key to change...is to let go of fear.   Roseanne Cash

A ship is safe in harbor, but that's not what ships are for.

The springtime greeting that April brings...renewal.  It's time to renew that library book of life so you can finish the final chapters.  After all, the best part is the part leading up to the end!

My children are in bloom for this "spring" of their life.  As I see them flourish, I'm comforted that they have been receptive to preparation that may help them through their own difficult times.  As much as I could, I opened doors and encouraged them to sample all that they wanted of the world I have been able to show them.  

Besides pledging my love and loyalty, they know my support is there for their adventurous spirits whether it be in their backyards or the depths of their souls.  Explore.  Explore.  Explore!  And be diligent to also find peace, peace, peace....

Sultry Florida

Sultry Florida's evening is buzzing loudly,
Skylight pale and distant,
Live oaks reaching out to the dead
Of leaves and people and dreams.

And I reach upwards,
Stretching to grasp a twig
Of understanding, a leaf of knowledge,
Alive with the buzz of Florida's charm.

Music making insects,
Dream making skies,
Comforting branches hung with
Moss covered Florida blankets.

A living life can be found here.

Broken

I read this from a friend earlier today:

"Here's the thing. Men like me never get anywhere. Ideas are easy. Success is hard. We are easily led astray by every little wind of hope, every tiny glimmer of a light at the end of a long dark path. In the end all of it is folly. It is all a fools dream."

Words of comfort didn't come forth.  It's hard to read; it must have been difficult to write.  Life transition brings on the darkest of days before a sunrise.  Trite responses are unnecessary.

As we mid life women wrangle with life's direction, at least we tend to have an inbuilt emotional structure to manage the chaos.  Men...I have come across so many who are ill prepared to handle the second half of their lives...especially if the first half has been less than successful.

Society favors the male gender until he ages.  Yes, he will probably have built more financial stability but even that is changing.  With the higher enrollment of women in college and wealth being managed in a more feminine friendly way, this century will not bode well for traditional masculinity.

No words of comfort.  Even the phrase "man up" would be inappropriate.  Suffering is an equal opportunity venture now....

Acceptance

We give ourselves a circle of friendship.  Within the boundaries is acceptance of strengths and weaknesses but more so is that each person can be their true and valid self.

I'm greatly inspired when I get to be in the presence of others who have no artifice, no agenda to change themselves or others without the invitation to do so. I appreciate their individuality as I might a fine work of art, and if they choose to seek my insight as they evolve, I happily offer my humble opinion.

But offering my unsolicited advice goes against who I am trying to be...to become...I do not hold myself in such esteem as to know what is best for a friend without being invited to explore that with them.  I like them for the reason that they are in charge of guiding their destiny and hopefully, they do not try to steer my own.

Acceptance.  Tolerance.  How has it become such a rarity?  As our circles of humanity overlap, why do so many feign to be superior in their knowledge or experience?  Why must they push their agenda into others without invitation?  Is it fear on their part?  Is it hubris?  Live and let live is lost now?

Acceptance.  Accept.  Except for me?

Thoughts from years past

The Tree Commandments:

 Stand tall

 Reach for the sky

 Go out on a limb

 Soak up the sun

 Sing with the Rain

 Enjoy the view

 Remember your roots

 “Ripeness is All.”

("Ripeness is All" is a favorite quote from Shakespeare's King Lear: "Men must endure their going hence even as their coming hither; ripeness is all." )

The Travel Commandments:

 Use a compass, not a map

 Travel light

 Take baby steps

 Enjoy the view

 What’s in the way, is the way....enjoy having your own way!

Conversation Courage

During my journey, I have encountered and dealt with physical and intellectual fears but still I pause with fear of emotional drama.  Part of it stems from my ignorance of what makes me and others behave/react in predictable patterns.

I understand that triggers play an integral role in my fear but I'm unsure of how that process affects my judgment once I acknowledge it.  Seemingly, if I can pinpoint when/what/how of my reaction then it would be logical that I could alter the outcome.

But I don't.  I can't halt a full scale panic of my emotional center once it's activated.  This interests me greatly and I seek as much knowledge as possible in the hopes that I can lessen emotional responses on my part.  Knowledge is power but emotion trumps power with subconscious action.

Yes, I seek to become Spock!  ha ha  A reasonable and logical nature is intriguing as it allows intellect to be the main player in life drama.  I do covet that ability.  Now that I've taken my brain out (as if it were a dusty toy) to play, I don't want to be distracted by my emotions.  And therein lies the problem; humans are physiologically geared to react in an emotional way.  Our hormones, instincts, DNA, and upbringing lock us into patterns that we can't ignore.

We tend to fall into certain categories as we seek calm.  Professionals who MUST be detached emotionally (military, medical staff, security) to do their job do not escape their suppressed emotions.  Instead, coping mechanisms kick in later and refuge is found individually.  And then there are the rest of us who struggle with our daily routines and must deal with emotions as soon as they present.  Fitness, family support, unacceptable social behaviors are examples of what it takes to deal with latent emotions.  Today's society produces mountains of research for the singular purpose of managing our coping mechanisms.

I want more research into how to manage negative emotions at their onset.  When I feel the angst, I want to know how to pull forth my courage and have the conversation...the conversation with myself, others, or a counselor to manage my reaction rather than manage the fall-out of coping mechanisms.

Me in the Middle

Me in the Middle

LaBel m' lifE

My friends have called me on it before...how I might give a person a label as a descriptor.  The attorney, the teacher, the SAHM, the old guy and so forth as I hope it gives me an answer to the person they might be.

It doesn't I suppose.  I want it to and I believe many of us do which is why labels are so popular.  It's easier to deal with a label and an expected outcome rather than guessing.

Guessing or labeling?  Same result.  However a  person presents themselves is not indicative of who they are.  It's just a public persona or even a wishful thought.

When we meet someone for the first time, polite conversation leads to the question of "What do you do?"

Instead, how might someone react to the polite inquiry of "Besides your name, who are you?"

Yes, setting aside the name, the occupation, etc., who are you?  Who am I?  Can an answer be brought forth that is not a label?

I am mother.  I am former wife.  I am aging baby boomer.  Labels.  Without them, I am finding it difficult to answer the question of my being.  Who am I being?

What is the being of me at this present moment?

Who are you without the labels?

Good Fortune

Behind every cloud, a silver lining?

John Milton coined the phrase 'silver lining' in Comus: A Mask Presented at Ludlow Castle, 1634

I see ye visibly, and now believe
That he, the Supreme Good, to whom all things ill
Are but as slavish officers of vengeance,
Would send a glistering guardian, if need were
To keep my life and honour unassailed.
Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night?
I did not err; there does a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night,
And casts a gleam over this tufted grove.

Today, unexpected fortune rained down on me.  It didn't arrive from the pot at the end of a rainbow but the unexpected source of a past dark cloud.  

It made me think of the "silver lining" phrase and I've been pondering its timeliness.  For all the missteps that I've taken and nasty trip-ups I've been given, I seem to receive much goodness.  How can that be?  How did I become so fortunate?

My mother's prayers?  My friends' vigilance?  My children's support?  My dogged nature?

No answer from the universe comes tonight except this beautiful "silver lining."  In the past, I would have been skeptical, somewhat angry that I was chosen to be so lucky, as though I wasn't worthy enough to be chosen.  My questions don't have to be answered anymore.  They're just thrown out there in wonder as I try to see my own "glistering guardian" who protects me.

Poem in Death

A cemetery conversation from the ground up to the Ivy….

I didn’t know it was like this.

No one did.

But this isn’t how it should be.

Why?

Because I live in marble.

You’re dead.

But it’s marble and you’re in dirt.

With the people.

Yes, and I’m in marble.

With the marbles?

NO…with all of us.  All of us are here.

Your family?

Yes.  The UpScots.

All of you are dead.

You’re dead.

But I’m free.  You’re in marble.

I don’t think it’s fair.

Fair?  That’s something that comes to town once a year.

We built this town…my family.

It’s nice but actually, you just paid for the town.

Our money paid for your people to work.

Paid us very little so we lived very simply.

You stayed, didn’t you?

We did and chose to live happily.

So you should thank us.

We did by living here and supporting this town.

Then why is it like this?  We are special, the UpScots.

Special for what?

Everything.  Our pedigree.  Our schooling.

Your schools are beautiful.

They were covered in ivy!

They still are.

But I can’t see them.

It’s the marble.  Very strong.

The finest from Italy!

It is beautiful.

I can’t see it either.

That’s a shame.

It’s cold in marble.

It’s cold out here in the winter.

But you’re used to it.

True, and I know that spring will come.

Is someone coming?

Yes, they come every day.

I can’t see them.

Marble.

Why does it get so loud?

There are many who come.

Every day?

Not so many in the winter.

Ah ha, so you aren’t that special.

No, I am simple.

But I am marble.

Perhaps they will notice you today.

Yes, because marble is special.

How long will it be like this?

Forever, I think.

Like this in my marble?

Someone planted ivy by your wall.

Ah ha, because we’re the UpScots.

It will grow quickly.

Yes and be beautiful.

That makes you happy?

Of course! 

Good.

What grows on you?

Footprints.

Naturally, they walk all over you.

Yes, every day and they touch me.

Touch your stone?

Always.  Many hands.

How rude?  What do you look like?

I’m simple.  Just a stone cross.

Is it winter yet?

Almost.

Why is it getting harder to hear you?

The ivy.  You’re almost covered now.

Excellent!  I must be beautiful.

It’s getting hard to see you.

I knew we were special.

Because of the ivy?

Because we are the UpScots.

Your name is gone.

Impossible.  I am engraved marble.

Covered by ivy.

The leaves will fall away in winter.

Yes.

People will see our name again.

Perhaps.

What do ivy leaves grow on?

The strong backs of its vines.

That sounds ugly.

Compared to the glossy leaves…yes.

But our leaves will return to cover it.

Thicker and stronger than before.

Yes, ivy and marble are special.

Then why are you talking to me?

It’s not supposed to be like this.

I think it is.

I can barely hear you.

And you can’t see me.

Are they still coming?

Every day.

Do they like me?

Perhaps, you aren’t mentioned.

We are the UpScots.

Ivy covered marble.

It’s cold.

No, it’s spring and warm.

Wait, tell me more.

Are you there?

I didn’t know it would be like this.

Aching Time

The weight of another's heart is heavy.

Upon encountering a past lover, one who truly professed l-o-v-e and was gently deferred by me was more painful than I expected.  I say gently yet I know he felt it was harsh because of his angry words...striking out in pain is a reflex action as we try to protect our most vulnerable organ, the heart.

Science can now tell us why heartbreak feels so real yet humanity has tried to deal with it by simply acknowledging its power.  Our poems, songs, prose, art have given us balm for the fracture our hearts endure.  This helps but mostly by diluting the suffering among us...what else can connect one to another but the common feeling of heartbreak.

I'm hyper sensitive to imposing pain on another because I've been the recipient of its unwelcome arrow.  My assumption is that the one injured feels it as much as I do causing it but I'm learning this is not true.  All of us deal with it differently and my experience is just mine, my reflexive reaction and I cannot assume that it is the same.

Now, I accept my actions can produce pain in another but a short term pain is better than a long term denial of what is to come...separation of two hearts needs a careful surgeon for ultimate healing.

The weight of a scalpel is heavy in one's hand....