This place dreams me into perfection, setting the scene with mountains dressed in a million shades of green and festooning them with clouds of every sort. Butterflies float across my yard in silent prayers of thanksgiving. I love the deep purple bush that calls to them. It becomes a haven for all things seeking the sweetness of life and I am one of them.
Chauncey is frightened by the kennel down the hollow, but is learning that whatever lies down there cannot touch us here in our little bit of heaven. We do not even need curtains on the windows. Our green toile valences are simply frames for the beauty that flows softly by on the mountain breeze.
My books are on the shelves, my turtles climb out of their packing crates and seek their places in curio cabinets and on tables, and my tiny refrigerator hums away until its bigger brother comes next week.
I am home.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
Along came a wolf spider and
I am here.
My brother and his oldest and youngest sons drove the 26 foot van pulling a 15 foot trailer with my car on it. His third wife drove me in her son’s car filled with more boxes, Chauncey and me.
It took us about fourteen hours and $410.00 of gas to get here, but: We are here.
Bobby backed the van down the narrow road and into the short sideways drive and we unpacked. The armoire did not fit. It would have been short enough to stand with an inch to spare, but standing it up took more room than we had. We even took a section of the ceiling out, but the joists were too close together there, so I have an L-shaped hole in my ceiling and my son had a lovely new entertainment center and large television. I have his television and his neighbor’s entertainment center. We are all happy.
My ex-sister-in-law is an amazing worker. She even arranged some of my furniture the night we moved things in.
Yesterday we took everyone hiking and Lennon walked the whole way (I did not.) I have slept in my own bed for two nights now, killed a wolf spider almost as big as the palm of my hand and bought a new refrigerator. This morning my two year old grandson read some of a book to me, we unpacked my car and now he is swimming and I am at Kinko’s using their computer hook up.
Life is new and sweet and we are finding our way.
My brother and his oldest and youngest sons drove the 26 foot van pulling a 15 foot trailer with my car on it. His third wife drove me in her son’s car filled with more boxes, Chauncey and me.
It took us about fourteen hours and $410.00 of gas to get here, but: We are here.
Bobby backed the van down the narrow road and into the short sideways drive and we unpacked. The armoire did not fit. It would have been short enough to stand with an inch to spare, but standing it up took more room than we had. We even took a section of the ceiling out, but the joists were too close together there, so I have an L-shaped hole in my ceiling and my son had a lovely new entertainment center and large television. I have his television and his neighbor’s entertainment center. We are all happy.
My ex-sister-in-law is an amazing worker. She even arranged some of my furniture the night we moved things in.
Yesterday we took everyone hiking and Lennon walked the whole way (I did not.) I have slept in my own bed for two nights now, killed a wolf spider almost as big as the palm of my hand and bought a new refrigerator. This morning my two year old grandson read some of a book to me, we unpacked my car and now he is swimming and I am at Kinko’s using their computer hook up.
Life is new and sweet and we are finding our way.
Friday, June 20, 2008
On The Move Again
I dropped onto my sister's couch around midnight last night, too tired to eat, my entire body throbbing with exhaustion, but the truck is loaded, my car is on the trailor and it is loaded.
Now I thank everyone who worked from dawn till eleven to get me packed. My sister, Caroline, always Caroline. My friend, Barb, My brother, Tom, his sons Timmy and Tommy, otherwise known as JR. Josh, Drake's Daddy. Jr's mother, Connie, my brother's ex-wife who worked like a teamster after working all day and came with three grandchildren whose mother didn't pick them up (and who worked too!) Eric, my brother's middle son, his wife, Katie. Cheryl, my brother's current wife and her ex-husband who came over and turned off the water for us in the middle of the night so we could move the washer, that wouldn't allow us to turn off the water ourselves. And Chauncey, who spent hours in the bathroom and was then hauled around the neighborhood by three small children until rescued by his Aunt Caroline and taken to her house.
We leave in an hour and a half with Tom, JR, Timmy, Connie and Chauncey for North Carolina. Thank you all for your kind thoughts and warm blessings!
Now I thank everyone who worked from dawn till eleven to get me packed. My sister, Caroline, always Caroline. My friend, Barb, My brother, Tom, his sons Timmy and Tommy, otherwise known as JR. Josh, Drake's Daddy. Jr's mother, Connie, my brother's ex-wife who worked like a teamster after working all day and came with three grandchildren whose mother didn't pick them up (and who worked too!) Eric, my brother's middle son, his wife, Katie. Cheryl, my brother's current wife and her ex-husband who came over and turned off the water for us in the middle of the night so we could move the washer, that wouldn't allow us to turn off the water ourselves. And Chauncey, who spent hours in the bathroom and was then hauled around the neighborhood by three small children until rescued by his Aunt Caroline and taken to her house.
We leave in an hour and a half with Tom, JR, Timmy, Connie and Chauncey for North Carolina. Thank you all for your kind thoughts and warm blessings!
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
The Icing On The Cake
I have never said good bye to so many people, so many times! Usually when I move, there is a dinner, or going away party and I go. I suppose this is a testament to the community I live in now, and partly it is because I have so much family and we are close, but I do have a good friend too and I will miss her.
I cannot remember the last time I met another woman who enjoyed the same books and movies I do, or who likes to discuss politics, or history, or current events that I am interested in.
Friends are the icing on the cake of life. Families spring from the same batter, and neighbors grow up around you, but a friend like Barb is truly a gift and I am more than grateful.
She is a huge blessing in my life.
I cannot remember the last time I met another woman who enjoyed the same books and movies I do, or who likes to discuss politics, or history, or current events that I am interested in.
Friends are the icing on the cake of life. Families spring from the same batter, and neighbors grow up around you, but a friend like Barb is truly a gift and I am more than grateful.
She is a huge blessing in my life.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Four Days
Four days and counting. Today I cleaned the stove, an amazing mess of grease for no more time than I ever used it. I suspect someone else left the thing dirty, since I believe I have only cooked two roasts and a handful of pizzas in it in four years. Well, it is clean now. Minus a little paint here and there, but clean.
I also began taking down the valences again since my brother will not be moving in. I brought in the outdoor part of my thermostat and packed the glass ware. Chauncey and I made another trip to the trash can, but my brother must have thrown his fish scales in there when he cleaned the fish. I gagged. I will save the rest of my garbage for after the garbage man cometh.
Tomorrow I will dig up some mint to take with me and bury a broken coal mine lily pad. It is in pieces and it only seems right to put it back into the earth where it came from.
I also began taking down the valences again since my brother will not be moving in. I brought in the outdoor part of my thermostat and packed the glass ware. Chauncey and I made another trip to the trash can, but my brother must have thrown his fish scales in there when he cleaned the fish. I gagged. I will save the rest of my garbage for after the garbage man cometh.
Tomorrow I will dig up some mint to take with me and bury a broken coal mine lily pad. It is in pieces and it only seems right to put it back into the earth where it came from.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Stop Stressing
How do I tell someone else not to do what I do myself?
My daughter-in-law is so worried about me moving into the apartment in their house that she is suffering major ulcer attacks and no amount of trying to soothe her fears on my part really helps. I really mean it when I say we will deal with it all when I get there, even as I am very appreciative of all the work they are doing now.
I suppose the lesson is for me to stop stressing over this move too. I will do what I can do to make it work and the rest is up to God and other people. Even as I say it, my stomach is knotting up. So far nothing has gone as I planned, but so far, it is still okay, so that is pretty good.
Money for the move and the gas are primary concerns for me, so getting as much of my deposit back as I can is imperative, but I cannot clean when I cannot see the floor for boxes, so I need to just let it go.
My daughter-in-law is so worried about me moving into the apartment in their house that she is suffering major ulcer attacks and no amount of trying to soothe her fears on my part really helps. I really mean it when I say we will deal with it all when I get there, even as I am very appreciative of all the work they are doing now.
I suppose the lesson is for me to stop stressing over this move too. I will do what I can do to make it work and the rest is up to God and other people. Even as I say it, my stomach is knotting up. So far nothing has gone as I planned, but so far, it is still okay, so that is pretty good.
Money for the move and the gas are primary concerns for me, so getting as much of my deposit back as I can is imperative, but I cannot clean when I cannot see the floor for boxes, so I need to just let it go.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
My Thots
Someone once asked me why I couldn’t be more like my writing. I have thought about this off and on for a long time.
My writing is the best part of me. By the time I write My Thots I have condensed thoughts, feelings and observations into sentences and words run through the filter of what I want and try to be.
If I were the earth, the polar ice caps would be My Thots. The rest of me is a work in progress, still ebbing and flowing, still erupting now and then, still smoothing out mountains and trying to grow forests.
Hmmmm….now I think about it, the polar ice caps are also melting….
Back to the point, My Thots are just little gelled parts of me that you read. And here is the next point. You are the reader, so no matter what I say, or how hard I try to be succinct and clear, you still have to digest my words within your own framework of experiences. When I touch on certain chords, you may hear Beethoven, or Sting, or whatever moves you most.
I am a fairly volatile creature trying to learn to be peaceful as I walk along this Way, which may explain why I need to live alone. I love so deeply and want so much that I am constantly putting those I love the most up on pedestals as I interpret their beings within the scope of my own experiences.
My writing is the best part of me. By the time I write My Thots I have condensed thoughts, feelings and observations into sentences and words run through the filter of what I want and try to be.
If I were the earth, the polar ice caps would be My Thots. The rest of me is a work in progress, still ebbing and flowing, still erupting now and then, still smoothing out mountains and trying to grow forests.
Hmmmm….now I think about it, the polar ice caps are also melting….
Back to the point, My Thots are just little gelled parts of me that you read. And here is the next point. You are the reader, so no matter what I say, or how hard I try to be succinct and clear, you still have to digest my words within your own framework of experiences. When I touch on certain chords, you may hear Beethoven, or Sting, or whatever moves you most.
I am a fairly volatile creature trying to learn to be peaceful as I walk along this Way, which may explain why I need to live alone. I love so deeply and want so much that I am constantly putting those I love the most up on pedestals as I interpret their beings within the scope of my own experiences.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Rug Guards
Rugs are a nice. They soften the world underfoot and brighten up the decor with just a touch of luxury.
Unfortunately they can also be worrisome additions to an otherwise simple life. Stories of flying rugs abound, but I truly doubt their veracity. Stories of rugs slipping on highly polished floors are closer to my beliefs. My father once slid all the way across his bedroom on a rug, landing against his antique dresser and breaking off all of his front teeth.
These stories are both things I feel I have some control over. I can put rug guards under the slippery sorts and should flying carpets become a reality, I have a choice about whether or not to board one.
Most dangerous of all is the rug someone pulls out from under my feet. It comes without a moment's notice and totally upends both me and my life. What was true in one minute, becomes a sweet memory in the next.
Unfortunately they can also be worrisome additions to an otherwise simple life. Stories of flying rugs abound, but I truly doubt their veracity. Stories of rugs slipping on highly polished floors are closer to my beliefs. My father once slid all the way across his bedroom on a rug, landing against his antique dresser and breaking off all of his front teeth.
These stories are both things I feel I have some control over. I can put rug guards under the slippery sorts and should flying carpets become a reality, I have a choice about whether or not to board one.
Most dangerous of all is the rug someone pulls out from under my feet. It comes without a moment's notice and totally upends both me and my life. What was true in one minute, becomes a sweet memory in the next.
Friday, June 13, 2008
We Are Just Too Versatile
Aren’t we fascinating creatures? Here we are, bipedal creatures walking around, bumping into each other in a million different ways. Communicating in every way we know how and still managing to misunderstand each other an amazing number of times.
Perhaps we are just too versatile for our own good. Quadrupeds and other bipeds and creatures with no peds at all seem to communicate fairly succinctly without half as much trouble.
Stick your nose into the face of an angry toucan and it will simply take a small piece to remember you by, leaving you with a hole to store the memory in. Lesson learned, leave angry toucans alone. Simple.
Reach out with your hand and try to take away a hungry lion’s meal and he will let you have it while he eats your hand. You will never stick that hand into another animal’s mouth again.
We try to be more civilized. We shake our heads no, slap your wrist, turn the other cheek, yell at you and then, when you think you understand, sometimes we sneak around and stab you in the back, or try to wipe your culture off the face of the earth. Your language, your politics, your religion, your God, the shape of your eyes, the color of your skin, all become ways of identifying who you are so we can obliterate you.
It isn’t enough for us to be the top predator. We think we want to be the only predator. Of course there is that age-old question. What do you call a predator without anything to hunt?
Extinct.
Perhaps we are just too versatile for our own good. Quadrupeds and other bipeds and creatures with no peds at all seem to communicate fairly succinctly without half as much trouble.
Stick your nose into the face of an angry toucan and it will simply take a small piece to remember you by, leaving you with a hole to store the memory in. Lesson learned, leave angry toucans alone. Simple.
Reach out with your hand and try to take away a hungry lion’s meal and he will let you have it while he eats your hand. You will never stick that hand into another animal’s mouth again.
We try to be more civilized. We shake our heads no, slap your wrist, turn the other cheek, yell at you and then, when you think you understand, sometimes we sneak around and stab you in the back, or try to wipe your culture off the face of the earth. Your language, your politics, your religion, your God, the shape of your eyes, the color of your skin, all become ways of identifying who you are so we can obliterate you.
It isn’t enough for us to be the top predator. We think we want to be the only predator. Of course there is that age-old question. What do you call a predator without anything to hunt?
Extinct.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Pay It Forward
My world is filled with teachers and they are amazingly good ones, teaching by living rather than lectures.
I know a woman who has an extended family in a very difficult transition period right now involving both her parents and children, and grandchildren. She gives of herself constantly, in every way possible. She has a comfortable life, but certainly is not rich by anyone’s monetary standards and her health is iffy. I don’t believe I could do a quarter of the work and caring she takes on for the good of everyone around her and I mean even the strangers she sometimes meets in stores or on the streets. Her faith sustains her with Biblical proportions, yet she is not judgmental. She simply goes about life giving and giving and giving. Never enabling. Never controlling. Simply trying to do the right things at the right times.
She recently blessed me in a most concrete and fundamental way and when I offered to repay her, she said simply, Just do like we do with the shopping carts at Aldi's - hand off to the next person and tell them to pay it forward sometime.
Imagine a world filled with people like her.
I know a woman who has an extended family in a very difficult transition period right now involving both her parents and children, and grandchildren. She gives of herself constantly, in every way possible. She has a comfortable life, but certainly is not rich by anyone’s monetary standards and her health is iffy. I don’t believe I could do a quarter of the work and caring she takes on for the good of everyone around her and I mean even the strangers she sometimes meets in stores or on the streets. Her faith sustains her with Biblical proportions, yet she is not judgmental. She simply goes about life giving and giving and giving. Never enabling. Never controlling. Simply trying to do the right things at the right times.
She recently blessed me in a most concrete and fundamental way and when I offered to repay her, she said simply, Just do like we do with the shopping carts at Aldi's - hand off to the next person and tell them to pay it forward sometime.
Imagine a world filled with people like her.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Pot Of Soup
Blessings are seldom things that I can hold in my hand, but every so often there is the paradoxical gift that is so much more than it appears to be.
I write about my life and suddenly find myself rescued by people I barely know who won't take no for an answer. Suddenly what appeared to be hopelessly miserable begins to seem, not only possible, but kind of fun.
The universe is always filled with light. It is just that sometimes I see it and sometimes I don't. And then, every so often, there is a blast of light that sends me straight to the source. Just a reminder, I guess, that it really isn't all about me, or up to me, or from me. This world is one big pot of soup and the One with the big spoon is so much greater than any of us swirling around down here.
I write about my life and suddenly find myself rescued by people I barely know who won't take no for an answer. Suddenly what appeared to be hopelessly miserable begins to seem, not only possible, but kind of fun.
The universe is always filled with light. It is just that sometimes I see it and sometimes I don't. And then, every so often, there is a blast of light that sends me straight to the source. Just a reminder, I guess, that it really isn't all about me, or up to me, or from me. This world is one big pot of soup and the One with the big spoon is so much greater than any of us swirling around down here.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Integrity
I often notice it is the little things that touch me the deepest, that tell me the most about who someone is. The grand gestures are awesome and they certainly mean a great deal, but it is the short sentence in a thank you note that displays the soul of a man.
It is the unexpected hug and a few words whispered in a mother's ear that brings her world into focus. It is the big man apologizing for a mistake, the intelligent woman who listens intently.
Integrity often appears in the smallest of gestures, but like the flame of a single candle on the darkest night of the year, it makes all the difference in the world.
It is the unexpected hug and a few words whispered in a mother's ear that brings her world into focus. It is the big man apologizing for a mistake, the intelligent woman who listens intently.
Integrity often appears in the smallest of gestures, but like the flame of a single candle on the darkest night of the year, it makes all the difference in the world.
Monday, June 9, 2008
The Turning Point
The incessant rain patters against the dark windows of my house. I can barely remember a day without some sort of rain this year. It has been dark and gloomy, or muggy hot. Too many extremes for Spring.
Of course I am a little more on edge than I might ordinarily. Packing leaves my home in constant disarray. Clutter of one sort, or another is closing in around me as I pack more boxes and need to find a place to stack them.
I want things done, but there are things I don't want to hide from my view just yet. Quan Yin's sweet face, always calm and peaceful before me is a comfort as is my white stallion and Ganesh. Familiar things who reach deep into my inner most thoughts and allow me to find the light when it is most important.
Everything is changing. Everyone is changing. This is the turning point.
Of course I am a little more on edge than I might ordinarily. Packing leaves my home in constant disarray. Clutter of one sort, or another is closing in around me as I pack more boxes and need to find a place to stack them.
I want things done, but there are things I don't want to hide from my view just yet. Quan Yin's sweet face, always calm and peaceful before me is a comfort as is my white stallion and Ganesh. Familiar things who reach deep into my inner most thoughts and allow me to find the light when it is most important.
Everything is changing. Everyone is changing. This is the turning point.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
The Starting Point Is You
My wish for you is that you become yourself! Whoever you are is worth standing up for, worth arguing for, even worth fighting for, because there will never be another you.
No one else knows what you really want better than you do. No one else should make the rules for your house, except for you. This is your life, your only chance to do and be and have the things that define happiness and contentment for you. Be brave. Be strong. Be You!
The best gift you can give anyone is a good example of how to live. Show them how a hard working woman with a belief in herself can enjoy her life to the fullest. Show them it is okay to say no. It is okay to love yourself even as you care for others. Show them what love is really all about.
No one else knows what you really want better than you do. No one else should make the rules for your house, except for you. This is your life, your only chance to do and be and have the things that define happiness and contentment for you. Be brave. Be strong. Be You!
The best gift you can give anyone is a good example of how to live. Show them how a hard working woman with a belief in herself can enjoy her life to the fullest. Show them it is okay to say no. It is okay to love yourself even as you care for others. Show them what love is really all about.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
She Walks Backwards
I feel such an intense heaviness that sometimes it is difficult for me to even rise from my bed. I do, but it is at the bidding of the beast itself. That creature whose hope and despair are not mine, who walks towards me with smiles and good intentions while trying to climb on my back and carry me away
I cannot help her. She does not hear the truth of my words, only the condemnation of her actions. It is not that she will not haul and hoe, water and work. It is only that she walks backwards while she does it. Leaving deeper holes in old footprints. Her work removes the flowers and leaves the weeds.
I feel like Peter Rabbit, stuck in the garden of eden, running for his life, trying to get out, grateful, at last, to stash myself away in the darkness of an old pot, looking up at the light.
I cannot help her. She does not hear the truth of my words, only the condemnation of her actions. It is not that she will not haul and hoe, water and work. It is only that she walks backwards while she does it. Leaving deeper holes in old footprints. Her work removes the flowers and leaves the weeds.
I feel like Peter Rabbit, stuck in the garden of eden, running for his life, trying to get out, grateful, at last, to stash myself away in the darkness of an old pot, looking up at the light.
Friday, June 6, 2008
The Words Are Wrong
I went to the cemetery to find you and saw your name carved in stone with two dates below, but something was wrong. I put my hands on the stone, closed my eyes and I felt for you in that place where we laid you to rest so long ago, but you were not there.
I could hear the song of the stone, feel the sunshine and the air from where it came. I felt the wrenching pull as it was ripped from its mother’s arms and tumbled down a mountainside where men began to hack it apart. I even felt the stone cutter’s hands as he gently searched for the beauty inside and began to free the new shape being born into the world of men, but I did not feel you.
I sat on the grass and stared at your name. The name your mother and father gave you, as you gave me mine and I felt a wrenching separation from those I love. My heart seemed to break in two and tears slid down my face. I did not feel them, but I saw them as they dropped onto the grass before me. One lay glistening, a tiny liquid bit of me and you two reflecting back into my soul. It was then I felt you.
Beside me in the grass and on the little white flower, I felt your smell wafting around me in tiny puffs of sweetness and I knew you were not under the stone, nor sleeping in the arms of the earth. Death’s sweet repose holds no dominion over you.
You are in the blades of grass and on those glistening petals. You have been carried on the wings of a butterfly into gardens filled with flowers and up into the clouds with the morning dew. The words are wrong. You did not die at all. You are simply reborn into the light.
I could hear the song of the stone, feel the sunshine and the air from where it came. I felt the wrenching pull as it was ripped from its mother’s arms and tumbled down a mountainside where men began to hack it apart. I even felt the stone cutter’s hands as he gently searched for the beauty inside and began to free the new shape being born into the world of men, but I did not feel you.
I sat on the grass and stared at your name. The name your mother and father gave you, as you gave me mine and I felt a wrenching separation from those I love. My heart seemed to break in two and tears slid down my face. I did not feel them, but I saw them as they dropped onto the grass before me. One lay glistening, a tiny liquid bit of me and you two reflecting back into my soul. It was then I felt you.
Beside me in the grass and on the little white flower, I felt your smell wafting around me in tiny puffs of sweetness and I knew you were not under the stone, nor sleeping in the arms of the earth. Death’s sweet repose holds no dominion over you.
You are in the blades of grass and on those glistening petals. You have been carried on the wings of a butterfly into gardens filled with flowers and up into the clouds with the morning dew. The words are wrong. You did not die at all. You are simply reborn into the light.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Constancy
I wonder if things change drastically over night or if I simply begin to perceive things drastically different? I suspect the latter is true, but either way, when the destination changes from the inside out, it is time to move.
I am looking forward to mountain landscapes and foggy mornings. I am ready to hear the sounds of family over my head once more. I need to become, once more, the mother, the grandmother, that I am.
Everything else will find its way. Constancy
I am looking forward to mountain landscapes and foggy mornings. I am ready to hear the sounds of family over my head once more. I need to become, once more, the mother, the grandmother, that I am.
Everything else will find its way. Constancy
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Good Intentions And Empty Buckets
I have a long history of mistakes, misconceptions and misbehaving. I may be perfectly imperfect, but I am also genuinely imperfect. There is a lot of room for improvement here.
I like to believe that I grow wiser with age. Wisdom reminds me that letting go of habits which do not work is a good habit to get into. Remembering which are which has a lot to do with my success.
There is a difference between trying to do better and just apologizing and feeling bad while knowing I have no real intention of changing. Paying lip service to things I have no real intention of doing is like trying to put out a fire with good intentions and empty buckets. The temple still burns down.
It is amazing how many temples I have watched burn, but I am becoming smarter as time goes by. Temple building is hard work and I am getting too old for it. Consequently, it behooves me to pay attention, get it right, become the wise one who gets to sit out front for a while before I have to start building again.
I like to believe that I grow wiser with age. Wisdom reminds me that letting go of habits which do not work is a good habit to get into. Remembering which are which has a lot to do with my success.
There is a difference between trying to do better and just apologizing and feeling bad while knowing I have no real intention of changing. Paying lip service to things I have no real intention of doing is like trying to put out a fire with good intentions and empty buckets. The temple still burns down.
It is amazing how many temples I have watched burn, but I am becoming smarter as time goes by. Temple building is hard work and I am getting too old for it. Consequently, it behooves me to pay attention, get it right, become the wise one who gets to sit out front for a while before I have to start building again.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Disappointment With Joy
I awakened this morning to the sound of my sister knocking on my door with breakfast. She and I were going house hunting for her, but before we left I wanted to check my bank and see my first check from retirement.
It wasn't there! A call confirmed that it would not be there until July 15th, which is standard policy. Except, that had anyone mentioned this when I told them I needed the money to start June 1st, I would have done things differently.
Now I get to see how calm, peaceful and collected I can be under real stress. I am trying to greet this disappointment with joy. It is not like I am going to starve, or suffer torture, or be seriously hurt because of it. At the most it will be an inconvenience that I may be able to circumvent in various creative ways.
It wasn't there! A call confirmed that it would not be there until July 15th, which is standard policy. Except, that had anyone mentioned this when I told them I needed the money to start June 1st, I would have done things differently.
Now I get to see how calm, peaceful and collected I can be under real stress. I am trying to greet this disappointment with joy. It is not like I am going to starve, or suffer torture, or be seriously hurt because of it. At the most it will be an inconvenience that I may be able to circumvent in various creative ways.
Monday, June 2, 2008
The Hour Before
Only three weeks until I move and I am excited. I know it because I cannot sleep. My head is full of thoughts and questions, plans and menus. Five of us will be moving furniture out to North Carolina. Once there we will have seven and two thirds people (counting Lennon and Chauncey.) All of us must have a place to sleep, towels to shower with and food to eat. And there must be some form of entertainment for these good people willing to go so far for me.
I have boxes stacked up to the ceiling in my kitchen and more to pack. Precious things must be double packed and placed in a safe place for transport. The truck is reserved, the trailer rented and everything should go like clockwork, which of course it probably won't.
Now my job is to let go of the need to obsess and let it all take its course. Dear God, pray for me now and the hour before my melt down.
I have boxes stacked up to the ceiling in my kitchen and more to pack. Precious things must be double packed and placed in a safe place for transport. The truck is reserved, the trailer rented and everything should go like clockwork, which of course it probably won't.
Now my job is to let go of the need to obsess and let it all take its course. Dear God, pray for me now and the hour before my melt down.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Before I Am Brittle
I think the first true sign of maturity is a sense of myself. I do not mean the recognition that I am a being of and by myself, separate from my mother and father.
I am talking about the feeling of beginning to know and recognize both my strengths,and my shortcomings. Creating a balance, a harmony within myself that allows me to stand confidently on my own two feet in a rough and ready world.
Knowing I am strong enough to actually listen to other people without feeling threatened, or superior, learning from their experiences and taking away what is useful for me in my world. Finding myself capable of helping those I can and admitting when I cannot.
Maturity comes after I stop bending to everyone else's will and before I become so brittle that bending will cause me to break. Maturity beats the plowshare until it is smooth enough to excavate the wisdom lying dormant underneath.
I am talking about the feeling of beginning to know and recognize both my strengths,and my shortcomings. Creating a balance, a harmony within myself that allows me to stand confidently on my own two feet in a rough and ready world.
Knowing I am strong enough to actually listen to other people without feeling threatened, or superior, learning from their experiences and taking away what is useful for me in my world. Finding myself capable of helping those I can and admitting when I cannot.
Maturity comes after I stop bending to everyone else's will and before I become so brittle that bending will cause me to break. Maturity beats the plowshare until it is smooth enough to excavate the wisdom lying dormant underneath.
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