Keys And Locks

There are too many passwords to remember. I carry a badge for work and a FOB, keys for my car and my home, multiple identification cards, money cards, and insurance cards of various types. The doors at work have levels of protection, so outsiders can’t enter. Has it always been so difficult? Have you counted the number of passwords you need daily now?

Are we safe yet? Or is this about something else?

Gatekeepers

When I came into the world, I met my first gatekeepers. I didn’t realize how much my family’s lack of acceptance disabled me, not until I peered back with adult eyes. I understand why my tiny self raged. I was stubborn and battling an invisible wall of resistance.

Many feel threatened by others who enter their area. It’s normal. Others change the way worship, the way we eat, and even challenge what we rights we have. Fear of others is a survival skill, but so is expansion and acceptance. Learning new skills can keep us pliable and young at heart. Consider before you react in fear.

See also Softness Is Your Strength

Contained

Boxes.

There are three cats in my house, and they love it when I receive deliveries. We have boxes to jump into and hide. Dot, the rascally kitten probably has the most fun making himself small at the bottom, then pouncing on his sister.

In and out, and the noise continues. Paper rattles from the packing supply. I often forget they aren’t children. All of this play and fun is what they do. This is their life. And I wonder if humans forgot how to play?

After a few days of chaos and I’ve had enough of the hidden cat game, as well as the thudding sounds in the night. I stack the containers, one inside the other like Matryoshka Russian Nesting Dolls. This is my game. It pleases me.

If you have pictures of your crazy pets, I’d love to see them. You can share on this site or on Facebook/ShowUp

Do We Create or Channel?

I look back at work I wrote a year ago, and I don’t recognize it as my own. Yes, I know the piece. I wrote it. The characters are mine, and the art is authentic, but sometimes as if another person works through me.

I DO ME

Flow is the place we aspire to be. It’s a surfer’s dream. To lose the struggle and only know exhilaration and glory, man! That’s the ideal. We all want that, don’t we? Then why do I white knuckle it?

Losing control is not a feeling I enjoy. When I was younger, the coasting downhill on my bike was good. Not flying through the air and losing my sense of direction. But in my fear I find release. There’s a comfort—An “Oh dear gawd I’m going to die—Okay maybe not.” And relief that I didn’t. All is alright. It’s a time when I learned to let go of me.

The greatest benefit of being a solo performer is that it is seriously frightening, but at the same time very empowering. It’s just you and the audience. All the weight is on you to deliver the songs.

Zola Jesus

CRUNCH TIME

Some of the things I’ve done which scared the shit out of me, I leaped into them fully, feet first. I had an idea and started. Once I painted my kitchen cabinets. Yes, I researched the hows. I bought supplies. But I had no experience. I took the first step, then the second. Sometime in the middle, I realized there was no turning back. I was committed. I would finish this project. It’s at these junctures when you turn the music loud and get to work.

Live. Live Everyday

You start dying slowly, but it doesn’t need to be this way. Choices. Those are the power buttons. We can wear the bright color, do the fun vacation, eat the ice cream, go dancing, see an art exhibit. Be alive. Everyday.

Read more: Are We The Choices We Make?

Or Power of Choice

A Windy Day

I wanted to feel secure, to be carried, to at least be helped with the many things in my arms. I wanted my mom to hold me. But it didn’t happen that way. Mom said I needed to be a big girl and learn to do things myself. 

It was May and the end of school. The Oklahoma winds were blowing across the plains,  propelling my tiny kindergarten body forward. With my school projects in my arms, I walked toward my mom’s car.  I didn’t feel capable. It was as if the wind was going to use this poster board as a kite, pulling me upward into the sky.  I trapped it tighter between my elbows and ribcage. My skinny legs couldn’t hold my body to the earth. At any moment I knew I’d float away upward and my papers would be lost. Everything would be lost. But I kept stepping toward my mom, silently pleading for her to step forward. 

I’d like to say I grew confident in my strength, but no, I didn’t. Instead, the synapsis string of scarcity formed in my brain. I was not enough. And there was no one here for me. It left an emptiness in my stomach, like when you go down a hill too fast in a car. I couldn’t lean on my parents. It was obvious.

It wasn’t the first time. Hell, no. I remember many times before. Deep sadness and feeling alone. But you learn to shut it down. That was when my mind completed the circuitry of understanding. The lightbulb zapped. My parents were not capable of being The Brady Bunch parents.

They also were not anything like Marianne Williamson’s amazing parents.

When you have generations of people who have been deprived of love because of poverty, war, lack of education, The Great Depression, and families who have struggled to survive, the children of those generations won’t have strong support. They aren’t capable of loving with full hearts. They were not taught.

That kindergarten day,  the wind showed its face to me. It was the wind that has blown across the plains of our state for generations. It’s known our names and tasted the dust of our bones. It is lack. I don’t fear it. It is empty and dry because we have forgotten where we came from and who we are. We have forgotten to love our people. 

What if the wind took me away? Could I return?

If you like this, check out Catch Me

Stumbling Around

Fear of Failure. Atychiphobia. Anxiety.

It’s sometimes the reason old people sit in their recliner too long. And why the snappiness gets lost from their step. Not on their sixtieth birthday or even in their seventy-fifth year. Just one day it’s easier not to try. Not push. Effort and achievement cause expectations.

The unknown is difficult to face. The young stare it down. Every job interview, each new friend, the new 10-page application they fill out for renting the house, new schools, and moving. But somewhere after the home and the kids and the third new job, life settles. It changes less. By the time the kids grow up, life has rolled on—around and over us.

As we age, we expect to know more. Be smarter. Shouldn’t we be advising our children? We feel we shouldn’t need to improve ourselves anymore. We did that in our twenties.

This is a new time to live. And I refuse to rust, whether it’s by sitting in a recliner or refusing to learn a new language.

We can do this. Don’t turn off your curiosity.

Is it possible, that some of us are afraid of diving, of jumping into the deep end? What’s the worst that could happen if we lived?

How To Conquer The Fear of Failure

Get Well Meme

My mom had surgery. Watching her deal with pain, watching Dad’s emotions, his helplessness, grief, and feelings of failure and remorse have been exhausting.

The decisions leading to the surgery for my family have been tricky. For years, Mom has ignored her neck issues and pain as well as any arthritis. I didn’t realize she’d been using a heating pad every day as her method of treatment. There was a cortisone shot many years ago. Also, a few significant falls. All of this information, would have been useful for doctors to know, but she denied everything. She believed her recent fall caused her problems.

Decisions are difficult. Cutting is not something to jump to as the first solution. But my parents were so scared of surgery they were avoiding it to the cost of Mom’s enjoyment of life. Her hands were gone. Clasping a cup, the sense of holding a hand or feeling a face was gone. She felt nothing. All was numb. And her grip was based on sight.

Dad took over the cooking and cleaning. This is the role change many families go through. He’s helped her walk from bed to the chair and the table. And in all of this time, there has been this hope she’d get better. Until she didn’t. She kept falling. It was emotionally difficult for both of them.

After multiple attempts to see the doctor and pounding on that door to find out what Mom needed, surgery became the only option. She has rheumatoid arthritis in her cervical spine.

They finally operated early Friday morning. Both of my parents are surgery virgins. And after seeing Mom fresh from surgery, Dad broke down in tears feeling he had harmed his wife, the love of his life.

I keep reassuring them that it will get better. The first days after surgery are the worst, but that might not be true. I’m not sure. At home, there are no nurses to move you or bring you Sprite.

One thing I know is what her doctor said, if she hadn’t gone for the surgery she eventually would have become paralyzed losing the rest of her mobility and dying. Maybe this isn’t as real to her as it is to her children and grandchildren. We got it. We were there encouraging her to see the doctor. My kids were cheerleading her forward.

She is loved. If love can speed recovery, she will fly through this.

#family #pain #loveyourpeople

featured image from The Girl God

Going Solo​

This is it. I’m doing it. A Solo journey. Not Hans, although there could be an adventure. I’ve been feeling an itch to travel since before last year’s trip to France. Thank you to my kids by the way. That was a fantastic vacation. I want more!

My greatest fantasy would be to round up all of my friends and hang out in one location, but that doesn’t work well in real life. And I, oh, I don’t venture out alone. The introvert in me doesn’t even like the grocery store. Exercise outside with people? No, I do my walks early in the morning. Airports? People? Are you kidding me? Someone had better be getting married.

It’s not easy being single and I’ve been alone for quite a while. Hook-ups and two-month flings don’t count. Emotional support, backup for decisions, help with finances, hugs in the middle of the night, or just someone to share a stupid joke, these are the things couples have.

I’ve tried to make each relationship work, but it’s been square pegs and round holes. I guess people who wish to enjoy my company will do so, and they will be at ease. And maybe I have to first be at ease with myself. So I’m going to learn to be alone. Small excursions are first. Eventually, I will venture further. I have always wanted to travel.

Loneliness is an abyss. It will swallow you if you let it. Consume you. At times its grasp is comforting. Waiting for someone to be your friend while you soak in that loneliness is the torment of an unforgiving inferno.

No one holds the key to my hell. I do.

My People

We all have fears. Deep inside all of us is an ache to belong. It’s as old as our tribal root system. Rejection, being cast from the tribe, even that glance letting you know you don’t belong here.

If you feel lost, find an activity or place, something to anchor your being to the present day. My own anchor was the sunrise and sunset. I paused daily for this. It was my sanity.

You can make your own tribe. Find people who support you who understand who you are as a person. Also these are people you enjoy being around. This is your life. Create it.

Don’t get lost in the pain of the past. Go forward and make a new life. Yes we need to heal. Just be careful to not get stuck in the quicksand of self pity. Lick your wounds and be done. Your future is more grand than the past.

Namaste.

Tiny Things

Patience is not one of my main traits. Honesty, determination, strength, and intuition are things I’m usually known for, but I’m not delicate. My mind gets locked onto a tracked event line that it believes should happen in a certain time frame.

Or How to Get Out of a Rut

Patience is not one of my main traits. Honesty, determination, strength, and intuition are things I’m usually known for, but I’m not delicate. My mind gets locked onto a tracked event line that it believes should happen in a certain time frame. Expectations vs Reality.

Itty Bitty

There are particles so small that they cannot be seen by our eyes. That’s not unusual. These nature tiniest particles can pass through walls and our body and we never notice they exist.

The process is called quantum tunneling, and occurs when a particle passes through a barrier that it seemingly shouldn’t be able to. In this case, scientists measured electrons escaping from atoms without having the necessary energy to do so. In the normal world around us, this would be like a child jumping into the air, and somehow clearing a whole house. [Graphic: Nature’s Tiniest Particles Explained]–livescience

skk7xoeuu3_1407320986211Curiouser and Curiouser

What made the scientists look for the particles? How do you search for something you can’t see? And if scientists can get out of their ordinary thinking, possibly their method could help me. DiscoverMagazine.com

Here are some suggestions I came up with:

  • Be curious.
  • Hypothesize then work towards proving your thoughts.
  • Ask questions of yourself and others
  • Watch your environment like it’s an experiment. How do the other monkeys handle situations?
  • What if you are right? What if you are wrong?
  • Start over and question everything again. Don’t get stuck on any one thought being absolute. Science questions everything.

Here’s an alternate plan in case mine isn’t your flavor of choice, When You Don’t Know What You Want Anymore – Tiny Buddha

“Curiouser and curiouser!” Cried Alice (she was so much surprised, that for the moment she quite forgot how to speak good English).”

Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass