Thursday, July 31, 2014

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

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

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?


Monday, July 28, 2014

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.

Saturday, July 26, 2014

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....

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Brain Pickings

I must send a "shout out" of love to Maria Popova and her website Brain Pickings.  With her wonderful choices of artists, philosophers, thinkers from all realms of life, she exposes us to sometimes forgotten seers of wisdom.

Today I read from her essay of Alan Watts and am given the following gift.  It is the truest expression of how I felt when embarking upon my first hike into the trails of Scotland.  Learning innately that I was not foisted into this nature but came from it somehow caused a complete pivot of how I would view the rest of my life.

For Watts, he reached it much earlier than I and I am grateful for both his and Maria's sharing of this apt description:

In immediate contrast to the old feeling, there is indeed a certain passivity to the sensation, as if you were a leaf blown along by the wind, until you realize that you are both the leaf and the wind. The world outside your skin is just as much you as the world inside: they move together inseparably, and at first you feel a little out of control because the world outside is so much vaster than the world inside. Yet you soon discover that you are able to go ahead with ordinary activities—to work and make decisions as ever, though somehow this is less of a drag. Your body is no longer a corpse which the ego has to animate and lug around. There is a feeling of the ground holding you up, and of hills lifting you when you climb them. Air breathes itself in and out of your lungs, and instead of looking and listening, light and sound come to you on their own. Eyes see and ears hear as wind blows and water flows. All space becomes your mind. Time carries you along like a river, but never flows out of the present: the more it goes, the more it stays, and you no longer have to fight or kill it.

Once you have seen this you can return to the world of practical affairs with a new spirit. You have seen that the universe is at root a magical illusion and a fabulous game, and that there is no separate “you” to get something out of it, as if life were a bank to be robbed. The only real “you” is the one that comes and goes, manifests and withdraws itself eternally in and as every conscious being. For “you” is the universe looking at itself from billions of points of view, points that come and go so that the vision is forever new.
You do not ask what is the value, or what is the use, of this feeling. Of what use is the universe? What is the practical application of a million galaxies?
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As we mid lifers reach for more meaning in our daily lives through meditation or prayer, God and/or science, it seems simple enough to remember that we are a PART of this world and move with it rather than an alien VISITOR who fights its flow.

Deep Breathing

The deepest of breaths are not always enough to cast aside stressful thoughts.  When confronted with a person from the past who knows so well how to push my buttons, I find that the simple act of breathing becomes a painful spasm.

Even now, I plow through "relationship" books in the effort to understand how exactly I/he/we went wrong after such a long time together.  In essence, it is difficult to find answers when one does not know the correct question to ask.

One of the drawbacks to not having exit counseling when ending a relationship is then not knowing how to proceed safely into a new relationship.  The worries then reproduce like unencumbered rabbits:

  • What did I do wrong?  
  • Why didn't he love me enough?
  • How much more could I have sacrificed to make it work?
Those kinds of questions are knee-jerk reactions to stress.  I'm informed enough now to know that a breakup cannot be whittled down to one person.  Instead of applying blame, I have to accept that I was a willing participant in a dysfunctional pairing.  

Some might argue that all relationships are dysfunctional but I refuse to believe this.  I'm goal oriented and want a profunctional relationship for the next great love of my life.  I seek proficiency, protection, and professed dedication from another to make a relationship work together!

From a rookie to a professional in two short years?  Let the games continue....  winkwink

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Rain Slide

Quiet engulfs so much of my days now.  It's the kind of quiet where speech doesn't exist except from the canned sound of a TV or radio.  The cats meow.  I answer.  The maintenance guy arrives, checks off his duty and leaves.  My trail walk consists of nods to others but words...no.

It's a quiet I remember from childhood.  The long days in rural Kentucky were quiet even with others.  We didn't have such long and detailed conversations as people do now.  Instead, I remember companionship with my brothers breaking into arguments leading to more quiet.  Three channels of TV with only two audible meant it was turned off more than on....

Traffic on the nearby road was scant enough that my grandparents made note of whoever they observed driving.  We rocked on the glider in between chores or during them.  Beans breaking, strawberries being hulled, apples peeling...quiet work.

Listening tonight to the rain sliding from the tiled roof, the window being tapped with heavy droplets, I experience sound but in such a quiet way.

A dear one reminded me recently of how important external quiet is to help calm internal cacophony.  By turning toward my old friend of silence, I've turned on my creative volume.

My voice is sliding from me now onto the page, spilling like the rain and tapping my brain with droplets...loud, energetic and very unquiet voices.

Monday, July 21, 2014

Omitted Truths

When discovering the deeper layers of oneself, we discover our endurance for shame.  Recalling years of embarrassing events or questionable decisions reveals our propensity to "cover up" the weaker part of our personalities.

Is omitting a truth a lie IF one is never asked about it?  

Does the adage of "You never asked so I didn't mention it" become more acceptable as we age because it's impossible to remember all our foibles?

Perhaps it's because society has become very fluid with relationships in the cyber world.  It's easy to gloss over our weaknesses and hide them away because we anticipate moving away from people on a regular basis.  Getting into the very essence of another is messy business and sometimes, it's easier to just detach rather than reveal a "truth."  After all, another person is just a click away and that person might ask different questions or have a different philosophy and then...then we need not face our own shames.  

Is forgetting our truths a lie to our self?  Is it personal hypnosis so that we don't have to confront our shame, our humanity, our frailty?

For me, all of my darkest moments are the brightest beacons for which I need to concentrate in order to move forward in this life.  They indicate weakness and the only path to strength is to lay bare their broken nature and be clear of what it will take to heal those fractures within me.  

Dealing with loved ones who turn to poor coping mechanisms such as alcohol, drugs, obsessions in any form is dealing with someone afraid to face the fracture.  I've had to learn that some people will NEVER choose to heal.  They choose to ignore rather than heal.  

The question is not always "Why can't you stop drinking?"  The question might be "Why can't you face what is causing your excessive drinking?"

Omission
Truth or Dare
Dare to Face
Truth


Sunday, July 13, 2014

Round and Round

With age, I can patiently observe life's turns on its merry-go-round.  The monotony of daily living would be just that if I didn't take the time to look harder at what's going on around me.  I choose to find small details as collectively they form a larger impact on my life events.

At the beginning of any relationship, either friendly or romantic, we are prone to giving rather unconscious clues.  Perimeters are set early on with likes/dislikes, personality traits, and even introductions to others in our life circle.  Each layer that is peeled back exposes a need or preference that we hope will be acceptable to the other.  Growing older makes that list of "must haves" longer as we try to protect ourselves from repeats of past hurt.

This can be a dangerous turn though.  The boundaries we build around our hearts leave us in a more vulnerable position.  So much of what we think can hurt us is built from unresolved pain.  We project our past into our future and spoil the potential crop of goodness that can come from being with someone who might be a blessing.  

Humanity has tried to understand this forever in our literature, our art, the philosophy around which we build civilization and religion.  

"Learn from your mistakes; don't repeat your past."

But we often end up repeating the past exactly to resolve it rather than doing the work in preparation for when it comes around again.  Round and round we ride and without due diligence to the details, a firm commitment to heed their lessons, and keen observance of our own biases, we live in a continual and unsatisfying loop.

I like getting off the merry go round and I like breaking my own boundaries.  It's the sweetest part of life to be continually surprised by my own resilience...growing...learning...being.




Friday, July 11, 2014

Guidance

Seeking help for one's mental or emotional state brings up a lot of questions in the conservative area from where I hail.  Exposure of that kind of weakness should bring about a circling of the wagons from loved ones and friends but oftentimes, the hushed whispers of disapproval abound in the community.

With that upbringing, it took quite a while for me to actually seek guidance from a counselor.  I was distrustful and skeptical especially when medication was mentioned as a remedy but I'm so thankful for the doctor who did suggest it.  My sunny disposition takes a lot of rain to make the clouds appear but I can clearly remember when the clouds set in and stayed.  My youngest was a sensitive toddler and the hoops that I had to jump through to keep a peaceful home were getting more numerous.  I wanted my household to be a refuge of happiness for all of us.

I had grown up hearing adults argue and harsh tones as the norm so I was even more determined to stop recycling old behaviors.  My personal physician knew that I wasn't myself and with a simple questionnaire and his own observations, he pronounced me mildly depressed.  That didn't make sense---I was living the fairy tale!  But some days were like Grimm's....

Because we were moving all over the country with  bonding and severing taking place in my friendships, I found it difficult to find a like minded soul.  Now I know how many were also quietly looking for affirmation from another.  Young mothers and wives left to navigate without the help of nearby friends or family...it is a difficult time.  Plus, I was convinced that it would pass.  And it truly did but I wasn't able to wean myself off the medicine and it was such a tiny dose!  The lowest milligram possible halved even then...so why couldn't my body adjust?  If I had been brave enough to reach out to a professional counselor/therapist instead of just an internist, I would have learned about the physiology of mood disorders.  Brain chemistry, hormones, stress, physical duress---all of it plays a pivotal role in the our emotional/mental health.  Plus, I actually do live seeking the bright side of everything.

Roughly 8 years after my introduction to "happy pills," I was diagnosed with MS.  It was then that I heard about my body's inability to hold Vitamin D, an important component of happiness chemistry, and apparently, it had been happening for a while.  Without Vit D, I had developed osteopenia with the chance of it becoming osteoporosis at 42!  Before menopause!  The wake up call about my physical challenges started me down the path of exploration for my mental and emotional well being.  Plus, MS was a depressing diagnosis at first.

My gut instinct had originally told me that the mild depression wasn't about how I processed life's events; it was about my body's inability to fit all the puzzle pieces together to consistently keep my mood in proper perspective.  I no longer felt guilty about taking that tiny happy pill and I regret my past angst because it truly wasn't the fault of my sunny disposition.  The logical reason was physical and I'm thankful for modern medicine to help me sort it out.

But a pill does not fit all the variables of life's ups and downs.  And so, as I entered the realm of divorce, I realized that it was time to find a professional to help navigate its difficult path. I'm grateful knowing that she is available as a touchstone for my happiness.  Looking outside oneself is difficult and having an unbiased person provide feedback is invaluable.  After visiting her last week, we realized it had been 16 months since our last session.  It's encouraging that once a goal is reached, maintenance can be simple with a positive attitude and good doctors.






Monday, July 7, 2014

Re-education?

Successfully inducing closure on a painful life event remains challenging.  For most of my adult life, I did not have a fully loaded emotional tool box.  I didn't know what I didn't know!  Perhaps if there had been a college exit exam testing emotional readiness for adulthood, I might be better prepared (and maybe still in college!)

But I'm no different than the bulk of my peers.  We drifted into our jobs, marriages, social life and families of our own making.  Looking back, I can see how my "get it done" mentality left no room for introspection.  Life was for the LIVING, not the philosophical and so I plowed through 3 decades of projects leaving scant time for my personal growth.

Finally, that time has come and I'm playing catch-up.  Another life transition is occurring but I choose enlightenment over ignorance.  My "to do" list is made up of clearing away years' worth of clutter so that I can embrace myself and others in a more caring fashion with mindfulness being key to my re-education.  There is still much to do in the daily routine of living, yet I allow it only minimal time.

The concept is so clear in my mind that I feel frustrated when others of my generation aren't working on themselves.  How do I tap them on the shoulder and turn them to the light?  Sounds ridiculous because it is; they're the only ones who can choose their path and who am I to say that their darkness is any less valuable than my pursuit of happiness?  I can say it if they start drifting into my path and casting shadows upon my light!

In another time, I didn't feel worthy enough to stand up for my dignity if I felt it had been assaulted.  That is changing.  I might be slower than ideal, but I get there and given time for reflection, I'm finding it easier to confront those who have cast their shadows upon me.

I confront myself, them, and then I forgive us both.  Humanity is a harsh business at times and getting lost on its paths is commonplace but it need not be a lifetime of wandering.  Instead, I will just walk around others blocking my joyful path; I don't like getting knee deep in their life muck but I've found it will wash off and I end up being smarter for the diversion.

Sunday, July 6, 2014

My Own Two

Now that both children spend the bulk of their time away from me with their summer jobs, school, etc., I've been plotting how to stay connected to the vibrant world they inhabit.  Not by being a FB or Instagram stalker of their own activities, but staying in touch with the wondrous pop culture that interests them and causes them to reflect and react.

Assuredly, being around teens keeps one youthful and that is part of the loss I'm feeling as they are leaping from the nest.  I miss the running commentaries about new gadgets, up and coming music, ridiculous television shows, and their unique perspectives concerning world events.

Yes, we are so much more linked than I was at this age.  Then, it might have been one phone call home per week and an occasional letter and now we can actually engage with them on social media...no, that would be going too far.  We can actually look at their postings but heaven forbid we "like" or comment too often.

If I were to go back into the school system as a substitute teacher, it would be much easier to dip my toe into youth culture but admittedly, after six years of dealing with high school and my kids, I'm not interested in that venue any longer.

Young people besides my own two might give me that touchstone of culture that I'm missing...but truly, is it that I miss hearing the musings of youth or just my own two?  With that, I'll try to follow along as I see their funny quips online and links to follow as something catches their eye.  It won't be the same but I will try to see it as better.  After all, I've tried to teach them to stay engaged and hungry for knowledge and experiences that will enhance their lives and propel them to reach out to others.

If I'm lucky, they may still reach out to me to share a tidbit now and then....

Friday, July 4, 2014

Age. Just a number?

So many times I hear the phrase, "Age?  Don't worry about it.  It's just a number."

How do they know?    Are they at a point in life where so little transition is happening?

Numbers are important and with age, it's not to be trivialized.  As much as people tout their nonchalance concerning age, it's interesting to see how quickly a label gets slapped on someone if they step out of the boundaries for age appropriate behavior.

As midlife women, we are encouraged to embrace our age but the media constantly tells us how to appear younger in our outward appearance.  And should we actually follow through with the prescribed formula of anti-aging, then the label of desperate is quickly applied.  Going out with a younger man even if he's mature looking and acting...still considered a cougar and the relationship is looked at with a wink and nod.

Older man with younger woman...gold-digger, daddy lover, and for him-cradle robber.

The mindset of youth is ageless and should be celebrated but the eras from which we are born are equally important.

Tick Tock

Tick Tock
My life is but a clock,
A turning wheel of history
Making time a mystery.

Tick Tock
I seek for it to stop,
Giving back my memories
Changing life instantly.

Tick Tock
Time winding down forgot,
As treasured moments oft
Are lost with every tick..tock....
.

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Ah, poetry

During the days when it seems as if I exist alone, I think of Emily Dickinson and her morbid fascination with death and its aftermath.  She gives her words the experience of birth and death as she deftly weaves them into succinct poetry.  The breath of life with the sorrow of living make up the mosaic of her mastery.

"HOPE" is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—

I've heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me.
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And as I remember that I'm not truly alone but just living as so for the moment, I look at a modern poet from my dear Kentucky.  Even if I cannot visit the "nature" he speaks of for solace, I read his words and I am there.  He comforts me.
The Peace of Wild Things, Wendell Berry
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.