Yes, Virginia there is a God

Man’s need for superiority; his desire for exclusivity; his love of drama and ritual, do not negate the existence of God.  Neither do all of his attempts to create a God in his own image. 

There is no reason for me to believe that God does not exist because fanatics insist that he is accessible only through magic and chosen people, or designated ones.

We anthropomorphize all sorts of things for children so that they can better understand incomprehensible concepts.  The human race is still very young.  We want concrete things.  We crave the security of hard and fast promises.  We need to feel we have control over this brief moment on earth and beyond.

Envisioning ourselves as only a part of a vast and infinite existence is almost inconceivable for most of us, so we tell each other stories about how the elephant got his trunk, or man got his God.  Neither story disproves the fact that elephants have trunks, or that there is a power so infinite and complex and powerful we call it God.

Yes, I believe in God.

Pied pipers in the garden of good and evil

The garden of good and evil is full of people who believe what they are doing is good – and that is scary.

Trying to sort out the truth when everyone is vehemently singing the praises of their own cause can become almost impossible.  My very own desires become the weakest link, the chink in my armor that allows me to be misled.

Programmed to respond to emotional pleas, I must be suspect of anyone using that in order to convince me.  The lowest common denominator is not even reliable because everything can be manipulated and people who believe that what they are doing is good – even when it is bad – can be just as convincing as everyone else.

Nothing is more heinous than bad things done for a “good cause.” 

And true evil is when bad people, themselves, think they are good.  They become the Pied Pipers that lead us all to ruin.

The Award

I am grinning from ear to ear!  One might think I was the one who just won a coveted award, but I am not!

I was not the one who managed to do my regular job and all those other projects that benefited the larger community while continuing to pour over books and footnotes, producing work that would make any professional proud.

My part was mostly that of cheerleader and perhaps a few small thoughts passed on in an unorganized and simple way.  But you would never know it by the way I am strutting this hour upon his stage!

My friend is being honored and I am basking in his light with such delight a stranger would be hard pressed not to believe it is my achievement too!  His honor fills me with joy and his joy makes me smile.

I wish I wish

Looking at the faces of young children has always made me happy and sad.  I see such innocence, such trust.  They gaze out at the world through eyes expecting kindness and affirmation, well most very young children do. 

Mothers and fathers, grandmothers, and grandfathers are immensely proud of everything they do.  A head covered in barrettes, a shirt on backwards, untied shoes on the wrong feet, it is all a wondrous accomplishment.  People smile and clap and those young human beings just beam!  It’s the way it should be and it makes my day.

What makes me sad is that I know in just a few years there will be people telling them what is wrong instead of what is right.  There will be those who find joy in making fun of those they perceive as less than perfect, and for a lot of people that means anyone not just like them.  There will even be those who respond out of envy and jealousy.  By the time they have been out in the world even a very short time, most children grow fearful of being who they are.

I wish that never happened.  I wish there was room in this world for everyone.  Imagine the diversity we might have, the discoveries that might be made, the freedom to love who we are!

An exercise

Forcing my toes down into my shoe I am sorry for the tennis socks whose padded toes make this so difficult.  My big toe curls up in agony.  He says he feels like he is being branded, but I tell him just to wait, in a moment that will change.

That is the story of life: what is will change and what is not will change.  There is only change nothing stays the same forever. 

My most immediate change is that I am going to go walking.  I close the door to my apartment and fumble with the keys, my fingers reluctantly bend and the lock tumbles into place.  I jiggle the doorknob and assure myself that it is locked.  Then comes the descent!

Seven steps down, a jarring journey for the left leg as joints, muscles, tendons all threaten to abandon ship and leave me stranded, but the right leg picks up the slack and I eventually arrive at the bottom, ready to step out into this mad March weather.

One day it is in the eighties, another the forties and today it is sprinkling!  What an amazing thing this is!  Swishing in from the side, one drop after another flattens itself out as it collides with pavement or grass or even me!  I wonder does the rain have a preference?  Or is each journey a serendipitous adventure never before experienced, and so a total mystery?

My journey is not such a mystery.  I have walked this way so many times now.  The sidewalks never move, the grass barely rises and falls, but the labyrinth or pattern can be varied.  And that is what makes it bearable.  I twist and turn, walking between buildings and over curbs, around play yards and across parking lots.  By the busy streets and through the quiet ones, the journey has long since ceased to be about the scenery.

This is a journey to the center of me.  I am split between worlds, watching for cars and potholes on the outside while spinning farther and farther into the depths of my own mind inside.  My mantra is deceptively simple, “Thirty minutes to go, thirty minutes to go…” or perhaps, “Halfway there, halfway there…” It doesn’t really matter what I say, the way is always before me, the vision deep within me.

The voice of reason

I conferred with the voice of reason last night and the decision was…well, reasonable.

Life cannot be an eternal struggle, nor can it be totally irresponsible.  There must be some kind of median ground and order.  That means there must be control of some sort.

Reliable control!

As children that control comes from our parents, but as adults we are supposed to have internalized it.  When that doesn’t happen life is full of extremes.

I suppose there are several possible solutions.  Anyone want to adopt a slightly older child?

Wholeness

All kinds of thots come to mind this morning, most of which I have discarded as quickly as possible! 

When your very nature tends to be a little prickly and sensitive, life is never dull.  There are always at least two sides to everything: the top prickly one and the soft underbelly.  Both are just as much a part of being as the other even if you don’t see the second one as much.  I wanted to write the soft sensitive underbelly.  It sounds so beautifully alliterative and right, but really both sides are very sensitive.

In fact, sensitive may be the common denominator that holds the two together. 

It’s hard to be a hedgehog!

The wanting

Obviously I have been thinking about dieting and not eating and, therefore, food, all the time lately.  I seem to have found that place I’ve found a few other times in my life where I am able to stick with an eating plan over a long period of time.

I am terrified that I will lose the momentum, or backslide into old habits again.  I have been on the wrong side of my ideal weight for nearly thirty years now!

I think one of the reasons this time is working is because I am being honest – with myself and everyone else.  It seems to be the norm for people to tell others it was “easy.”  They routinely say, “I don’t even notice it.  I am just losing weight.”  Once when I was recovering from my divorce that happened to me, but never before, or since.

I have to work at it and I have to work hard!  I am often hungry.  I crave foods like I never craved them when I ate whatever I wanted and I have to push myself to exercise every day.  It is not fun for me.  I do not want an exercise buddy to walk with.  I do not want to exercise at all.  If I can’t play tennis, and I can’t, I want to sit on my backside and read a book!

I have to want something more than food and I have to want it a lot!  I have to want it more than toast with butter and double chocolate cake and cheese and crackers and mocha lattes with whipped cream.  I have to want it more than an ice cold fizzy diet coke, or warm, gooey, cheesy pizza.  I have to want it more than popcorn drowned in butter, or barbecued pork chops, or lasagna.  Because I am going to think about eating all of those things at some point!

It is the wanting that makes me walk when my toes ache and joints creak.   And it is the wanting that says this dull ache in my tummy is a good sign that I haven’t over eaten today.

It took me a long time to find something I want this much and I’m hanging onto it!  It’s the only way I’m gonna make it.

High and dry

I had never really thought about the difference between plateaus and mesas until recently.  After all, we really don’t have either here in the heartland, or so I thought.  Life here is all rolling hills and steep cliffs surrounded by flat plains or jagged rocks. 

I actually thought plateaus and mesas were pretty much the same thing, but the dictionary says a mesa is less extensive than a plateau.  Honestly, I didn’t think much about either one at all until I discovered a plateau right here in my own bedroom!

After weeks of dieting and building my walking up from, let’s be honest, nothing to thirty minutes I suddenly stopped losing much weight at all!  I’m not eating more.  I’m not really exercising more; certainly not enough to be getting those supposedly pound heavy muscles.  If I were to write an allegory I would express this lack of progress as evil; a leering horned creature whispering that this is a waste of time and I should give up and go back to enjoying life.  In the calorie-crazed world of dieting this is called a plateau!

Except that on the whole, I am enjoying life more.  My love of simplifying derives great pleasure from giving away my larger clothes and opening the refrigerator to see only a few tangelos and leafy green vegetables.  In fact, I am having difficulty sleeping because I find myself constantly amazed at the pressure on my hips now that they are not padded with quite so much fat and I can’t wait to get up and see how low my blood pressure is, or if I have lost another bit of weight!

The down side is that now my mornings are often lessons in disappointment and that is raising my blood pressure!  Not way up there where it was, but not as low as it could be.  I find myself obsessing over things like plateaus and mesas!  Waking up several times a night wondering if I will be disappointed in the morning, or not!  Hoping my excitement and motivation won’t be left high and dry because of this obnoxious way my body has found to torture me one more time!

I am stubborn!  Let’s be honest, I am bull headed!  By golly I can quit eating if I have to.  I WILL win this battle!  No body is going to try and sabotage my attempts to lose weight!

Oops!  Wait a minute!  Where is the peace loving spiritual person that used to live in this mountain of flesh?  I need to stop and smell the roses, literally.  It is time to sit back and breathe!  If I just plod on, like my favorite animal, the turtle, all will be well.  Guess it’s time for a little attitude readjustment too.

The point

Life is really not linear.  It may seem that way since birthdays come once every year, but those are only dates.  In real life, life is more like a wheel.  I am the hub and everything else is a spoke that links me to the rest of the world.  That is not egotistical.  It is realistic.

Only I can make the decisions that control the quality of my life.  I may be a slave to a job, but it is a job I chose by virtue of the education I received, the place I choose to live, and my tolerance for accepting whatever comes with it. 

A hard life dealt to me can be out of my control, but how I deal with it is totally within my control.  There are always choices and sometimes that choice is simply how I’m going to feel.  Feelings don’t necessarily have to be attached to a situation.

The freedom to find my own joy, or bliss, within whatever else is going on takes some conscientious work, but it is attainable.  People have dealt with much worse situations than I ever have and come out both stronger and more satisfied with themselves.  In fact, that may be the whole point in living…learning how to get through it decently in spite of everything that happens.

Or there may be some grander purpose.  Who knows?

Pick me!

My recent foray into exercise and responsible eating has made me hyper aware of all the stuff written about life style and dieting.  I, like so many others, am always looking for the plan that really lets me eat what I like and want and still be healthy.

Ever since first grade when I discovered those letters in the abc song magically made words and I could create whole new universes out of those words when I put them down on paper, I have been looking for the other miracles in this world!

There is the eat only protein diet where you are guaranteed to lose weight eating all the steak and pork chops you want, along with cheese and eggs and other yummy stuff.  There is the chemical diet, where you take magic pills and potions that somehow gobble up all the fat in your food.  And there is the caveman diet where we get back to basics and eat berries and bison. 

Of course skinny bodies with clogged arteries still die, and our organs can only suffer so many poison oil slicks to rid it of fat, and let’s face it folks, cavemen lived about thirty years if the berries were plentiful and the bison docile.

Then there is the “let your body tell you when you’re full” diet that says I will eat what I need if I only listen to my body’s urges.  That’s how I got where I am today, the poster child for Fat America.  My body’s been bringing in the sheaves and meat and desserts, and all of our generation’s other bounty for a long time.  It’s been one long harvest fest and pretty soon that wagon is the only thing that will be big enough to haul me around.

It really is time to get back to basics, but what is basic?  It’s one thing for a mouse, another for a dolphin and almost as diverse for each human being.  If I labor in a field all day, hoeing and planting, I need a lot of protein and carbohydrates, but if I ride around on a tractor?  Not so much.

Apparently, lo and behold, it is moderation!  And diversity!  Diversity being highest on the list of successful tools for healthy living.  A little bit of this, a little bit of that!  A walk, some protein, a vegetable or two, even some sweet things, but in moderation!  And the way I know it’s right? 

Did you ever go to pick out a puppy?   Bright shiny eyes, a lush coat, wagging tail, energy, playfulness, you get the picture!

Smoke and mirrors

Who hasn’t occasionally wondered, “How does the world see me?” 

For me that information generally seems to come from two extremes.  People who really hate something about me, or people who really love me.  Neither one are particularly reliable sources!  One wants to hurt me, the other make me feel good.

Still, if it is possible to know what someone really thinks from a dispassionate source, I find it intriguing. 

And when that coincides with what I already believe, or hear from other sources, it feels like truth.   When it doesn’t, it is confusing, if I am honest.

Sometimes I wish I had a mirror on the wall, not to tell me who is the most beautiful in the land, but who I really am!  Who is this person I live inside of?  What are the most basic parts of me made up of behind all the smoke and mirrors that I have learned to wear throughout the years? 

Of course the smoke and mirrors really are a big part of who I am.  What I choose to present to the world says a lot about me -- just not everything.  What I want to see are the vulnerable parts that make those choices.

Where are the uncharitable thoughts born?  Why is anger sometimes trembling under the surface of a smile, or compassion lurking behind the anger?

Perhaps the question is not how the world sees me, but how do I really see myself.  At the extremes I ask myself, “Am I some dark angel masquerading as light, or am I really light perforated by living?”

The truth is probably much less dramatic, but the myth is much more intriguing.

Disappointment

No one can disappoint me like I can myself!

I leap into the void empty handed thinking it is an act of faith only to discover it was the result of careless wishful thinking.

That is part of the problem of living by “gut feelings.” 

The gut is probably attached to the brain at some point, but it isn’t always a thinking girl’s best friend.

On one hand, my gut feelings about my own body are almost always right on.  I am not a pharmaceutical company’s dream, or textbook case for modern medicine.  There are a million shades of everything and I usually fall into the fringe group most people don’t see.

On the other hand, my heart is not completely reliable.  It encourages me to do things that fall into that wishful thinking mode, so I am constantly reining it in.

I want to be the rose, standing tall, fragrant and protected by my own thorns in the sunshine of a beautiful garden, but the truth is closer to the aspen trembling in the wind.

Progress

The world changes moment to moment and whether that is good or bad depends on many things, including perspective, fall out, even the reason for it.

Probably more important than judging whether a change is good, or bad, is the ability to look at it with an honestly critical eye.

Unfortunately many people invest more energy in justifying something than critically looking at it.  Justifying is a weak response. If something can’t stand on its own, there is room for improvement.  Being able to see that: willing to admit it: and strong enough to do something about it is pretty rare.

If it happens?  Then it becomes another change and the whole cycle begins anew!

Danger! Beware of the luxury.

I remember going over to the television and turning the rotary.  That made our antenna rotate outside.  At the ripe old age of six I knew that Champagne was east of Springfield and that was the direction the antenna had to go if I wanted to watch a favorite program.  If I wanted to change the channel I had to choose Vhf or Uhf on the converter.  If the television was out of alignment, there was a knob.  There were other knobs to control the volume and whether it was on, or off.  All of them across the room from our favorite chairs or sofa.

Today I have a box beside my chair in the living room with five remote controls inside and one on the table next to me.  The television remote, the DVD remote, the cable remote, the Roku remote, the remote that turns on the fireplace and controls the flame, and the remote that turns the lights on or off through the apartment!  There is even a remote that runs the heater, air conditioner.

If I didn’t eat or go to the bathroom I would never have to leave that chair!  Eating is simplified by the microwave and a million choices in convenience foods.  Everything is quick and easy.  My shower and toilet can be set up to clean themselves, my car can get a bath from a robot.

If I didn’t make myself get up, go out, and walk, I wouldn’t get any exercise at all! 

Imagine being killed by luxury.

My cup of tea

In the world I grew up in, secrets were the stuff of life!  I remember reading an article about how a wife should plan her day so her husband never saw her in curlers or without make-up.  He was supposed to think she always looked like that. 

Wealth was the ultimate sign of success and whatever it took to attain it was just “necessary.”  Men, women and children were expected to fall into their role and live it – outside the house if not in.

There were rules.  Rules about how to sit, stand, smile, speak, even think!  If there was an adage that seemed to be popular it was,  “Act and ye shall feel accordingly.”

It was not equitable, but like a teapot on the backburner of the stove, no one even noticed it was there, especially the people in the front room who drank the tea, but never entered the kitchen. 

Of course it was inevitable that at some point the teapot would come to a full boil and its incessant whistling would become both an annoyance and an embarrassment to those trying to pretend their tea wasn’t born of boiling and steeping and all those messier things in life.

Today the bag is usually in the cup and while that may lend itself to an occasional mess, it is much simpler.  Less air.  More conversation.  And if the occasional spill or thrown cup occurs?  Well it is a learning situation.  We are finally growing up.

The Awful Truth

How can someone on a starvation diet, low salt, low carb, no sugar, drinking only water, gain two pounds walking thirty minutes a day and sleeping five hours?

I look at that question and suppose that a better question is how can anyone choose to live that way?  The answer is quite simple.  I don’t.  My blood pressure even jumped twenty points overnight! 

It is so frustrating.  I have lost twenty pounds and my clothes all still fit.  There seem to be no real benefits from this lifestyle change at this point.

Frankly I feel like kicking something.  I just don’t know what to kick and my toe hurts!  If I could sleep, I’d go back to bed.  If I could eat, I’d go out to breakfast.  If my joints were better I’d even go walk some more, because I sure can’t cut the calories any lower than they are and hope to be healthy.  All I can do is drink water and not eat. 

According to the Mayo Clinic, if I keep doing the right things, the right results will appear so I dig in and persist.  I have one chance on April 2^nd to prove that I have been eating right for the past weeks when they do the blood tests before my doctor appointment the following week. 

It is like training for the Olympics in health and I’ve never been much of an athlete.  I am much more of a reader and writer, but that has been a struggle lately too.  It’s hard to concentrate when your right eye won’t focus and you are hungry all the time.

Anyone who says eating healthy and losing weight is not work is lying, either to themselves or me.

It's in the pocket

Look up pocket pal and you will find all sorts of things from calendars to knives, but none of them are up to the living, breathing one I have!  I admit to personally having few pockets, I carry mine along with me anyway and am carried quite nicely by my pal in a pocket with benefits!

Being in that pocket has taken me all over the country, even to New York City!

My pocket pal joined me in watching the Oscars; has walked me up the steep hills of San Francisco during a drizzling rain and driven me across the states where Faulkner lived and wrote.

My mother used to say there are only two things you can count on: death and taxes.  I can also count on sharing my day and saying good night – every single night.

Some people are joined at the hip.  I have the freedom of being joined at the thumbs!  Frankly, I prefer that.

It is a strange new world, but I have to say, having a pocket pal is highly under-rated.  It’s better than Jiminy Cricket and Lassie all rolled up into one.  We have no secrets.  We don’t need them. 

The hardest part is knowing who said what.  Sometimes it is almost like talking to myself, but better.  Infinitely better!

Life isn't fair, or is it?

Life isn’t fair.  Wow, why would I write something everyone already knows?

Because in the grand scheme of things I still want it to be fair!  I want to believe that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction across the board, not just when it is an actual physical move.

And maybe there is.  Maybe I just don’t always see, or understand the reaction, or the timing of it.  When I hit something with a hammer I don’t really notice the reverberations through my arm.  At least not most of the time, but they are there.

When someone does something hurtful, to me or to you, I want to turn around and slap them in the face saying, “Wake up!  Why are you doing this?  Do you realize what you are doing?”  

That would feel sooooo good!  But it probably wouldn’t do anything except assuage my need for revenge, which is only another hurtful action.

The universe is wiser than that.  It allows me to go along doing my “thing,” making changes in my world time after time until my feelings, my voting, my responses to all the things that come at me build up and become strong enough to change the world around me.  Then the reality of that descends upon me and I have to live with it.

Some of us notice.  Others do not, but it doesn’t negate the consequences.  If I embrace the idea that we are really all one and can extract myself from taking everything personally, life is probably more fair than I care to imagine.  In those old old words of wisdom, God, or nature, or the law of science, whatever I call the highest power, is pretty clear about the way things work, “visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children, and on the third and the fourth generations of those who hate Me,”

Were I able to see into the future, I might understand how the reaction to my actions affects my great great grandchildren.  It just takes time.  The universe works on a much larger scale than my puny understanding.

Vacationing in daylight savings time

Flying into the sunset

into the wild blue yonder

Backwards through time.

having lunch twice.

Once in the big D, unsleepy southern city

and again in the bustling city on the bay.

Twice fed and younger because of it!

Modern day Chronos

Turning the wheel upon which man is bound

A time machine with wings

that gobbles man up.

Spitting him out

or flinging him off

Tireder and younger courtesy of time!

But time is a wily opponent

catching up and springing forward

Shoving out with both hands

covering its face

Fighting back to back

With man’s insanity and theories

Until time lost is time saved!

Turning a blind eye

What is the scariest thing in the world?

The truth I cannot allow myself to see!

Why would I blind myself to a truth?

Because of fear!  The fear that even if I see it and admit it’s effect on me, I might not have what it takes to deal with it and change it, making myself my own worst enemy.  That is terrifying.

I know I am not alone in this.  I hear others doing and saying all the same things I have said.  “Life is too short to worry about everything.”  “Orange sherbet, that’s a fruit, right?” "Some people live to a hundred and ten and do this." When obviously I will not.

And that leads to the very worst one.  “I’d rather die than give this up.”  It is when the prospect of really dying from something hits me that I am forced to take a step back and re-think the truth of that statement.  Do I honestly mean I would rather go blind or die clutching my chest for six hours while the hospital decides if it is safe to give me pain medication?

No I do not.  I am just so afraid of the pain and discomfort of making the change that I cannot even deal with the thought of what I need to do.

So far I keep getting second chances.  Someday those options might run out.

The pride before the fall

I find a million reasons not to walk my thirty minutes a day, so I have to treat myself to different carrots.  Today it was taking a walk in the park! 

A twenty minute drive across town when I could simply have walked around the neighborhood, but worth it.  I ended up adding steps and slight hills to the walk today, so I was really tired by the time I fell back into my car.

But proud!  I am truly proud that I have been able to maintain this lifestyle change.

The best life has to offer

What is my biggest accomplishment?

How do I answer a question like that?  Everything is relative and most things, in fact everything, I have done has involved someone else in some way.  No one lives in a vacuum.

Taking that into consideration I think the thing I am proudest of is the way my two sons are primary caretakers for their own children.  Just thinking about that makes my heart swell with love and joy and even pride at the way they are doing it.

I don’t get credit for all of that by a long shot, but something deep inside of me feels that it is an accolade for me that is right up there with the best life has to offer.

Thinking outside the box

Real peace in the world would require real people to think outside the box.  Anything that is familiar is easier to understand than an untried concept and the higher the stakes, the less likely people are to move from what they consider a given to an unknown solution.

Since a human being picked up the first rock and hefted it at another human being doing something he didn’t like, it has been acceptable to use armed force to settle disputes.  There is nothing like pain to put a stop to something – for a while.

War is so much more complicated.  Not only is it promoted by anger and fear, it is also a very profitable proposition for the people who provide whatever the war utilizes.  Somebody has to make all those weapons, uniforms, vehicles, tents, huts, barracks, bullets and ships and planes that transport it all.  And in recent wars somebody outside even got paid to provide services like food preparation.  War only costs the people and government money.  It makes money for an elite few.  It makes enough money that they can afford whatever it takes to keep it going. 

We are a long way from the days when people donated their materials and services to protect their country.  Our soldiers may be good men who want to give their all to protect our country, but they are also in an organization where sadistic sociopaths and greed flourish.

It is possible to protect a country, to win a dispute, or change the way things are without war the way we know it now.    It is untried on a worldwide scale and it might take longer than it does to blow up a city or gun down a thousand men, but in the long run nothing can take longer than war.  We have been fighting wars since time began.  They never end. They just go underground to regroup.  Eventually each one rises from the ashes slightly changed, a little bit wiser and often stronger.  Yet, still as determined as ever to continue on in the old ways to get what it wants.

If I want to get rid of mosquitoes I can slap them, spray them, put up bug killers to electrocute them, but they are still around.  The most effective way to fight mosquitoes is to eliminate what it takes for them to breed.  The same is true for wars.  We need to eliminate the things that create war.  Healthy, well fed, well educated, well treated people who feel they are powerful enough to have a say in what is going on in their world eliminate the cesspools and stagnant conditions that wars use to flourish.

It would not be an easy shift in thinking, nor would it be the end all answer. There would still be the sociopaths, sadists, and greedy people to deal with and we could still have our armed forces.  But they would be armed with the knowledge for negotiating peaceful solutions and protecting people by providing them with the accouterments and knowledge that is necessary for living satisfying lives.

It would be a good start along the road to decency and civilization. 

Being

Nature is spring-cleaning.  Getting rid of the cobwebs, blowing the last of the leaves away. Ripping the leftover cornstalks from the field, the loose hairs from my head, blowing anything that is not attached, away.

The wind whipped across the prairie yesterday, holding the door to the school so tightly closed, it took both of my hands to wrench it open.

All of my joints ache with pounding ferocity from the change that lurks all around me.  I shiver in my big chair thinking it must be freezing outside.  Dressing for the last of winter’s cold blustery days I go out to find it is deceptively warm!

Yesterday’s snow is gone and underneath it are the first green sprouts heralding the earth’s awakening.  This is a dangerous time of year as winter and spring battle for supremacy like selfish siblings.  I have seen grass, new sprung tulips, even budding plum trees frozen by a rogue frost.  Another way of clearing the way I suppose.

Only the hardy survive and I can feel in my bones that I am not one of the best candidates anymore.  Still, I love the way I must lean into the wind to walk to my car, cringe at the way the wind slams the door shut nearly missing my hastily withdrawn foot, marvel at the trash flying forty feet in the air!

To be part of something so powerful is exhilarating.

Discovery

I remember looking in the mirror when I was very young and wondering what I was.  During those tender years it never occurred to me that I would be anything besides what I was supposed to be, like a kitten, or a seed, I expected to grow up and become a cat, or a flower.  It was simple.

I was curious to see what I was.

It seemed likely that I was a teacher since that was what my dad was, but I was fully prepared to be a doctor, or architect, or almost anything – except a mother.

I never dreamed of being a mother.  For one thing, it never occurred to me that I could be more than one thing.  For another, the mothers I saw appeared to find mothering a burden.

Yet, I found myself drawn into mothering, maybe like the seed finds itself drawn upwards into the light before it blooms.

It wasn’t always easy, but it certainly was not the miserable job I had anticipated.  It was like being an artist with the most precious malleable clay in the world.   It was god-like.  I knew my tiny subjects could be anyone or anything.  My job, if I chose to accept it, was to provide them with an environment in which to do that.

It wasn’t always easy, or fun, but it was infinitely satisfying in millions of ways, both big and small. 

I was a mother.

The Forty Minute Mile

I’m not sure, but I think I have invented the forty-minute mile!  I consider it a great accomplishment too!  Or I will once I can make it.

I am walking every day in an attempt to become healthier.

I started walking less than ten minutes a day because my back ached so badly and my feet hurt even on such short jaunts.

After a couple of days I was up to fifteen minutes a day, but most days I only counted what it took to do my shopping, or volunteer work.  I didn’t really just go walking very much.

After eighteen days I accidentally walked too far from home to make it back in fifteen minutes and I discovered I had walked twenty minutes!  My back was better.  My feet were doing okay and I have continued to do that. 

It has only been five days, but I was almost immediately tired of it and struggled to make myself keep it up.  So…..I began counting my steps!  I use a  digital calculator – my fingers!  I count the steps to a hundred and stick down one finger on my left hand for each one.  When I get to five hundred, I stick down one finger on my right hand and start over on the left!  It keeps me distracted enough to keep going.

I have learned that I walk five hundred steps in five minutes and that each of my steps is eighteen inches long, so I walk a little over a half mile a day in twenty minutes.  I will not break any speed records with that, unless it is for the slowest mile and since I don’t yet walk even one mile, that is unlikely.

Still I am out there doing it and somehow that feels really good.

Loving Love

"discussing loves categories and degrees would take up our day......and
many learn to live worthwhile lives when they can't find romantic
love...such as i..."

A friend wrote these words and I agree with them.  He has turned his life into a wonderful way of giving back to people and I think that is the secret to happiness such as it is in this world.

Each one of us needs to find what makes us happy.  I know I can’t be happy all the time.  Happiness is an extreme, like sadness, but contentment comes right on the heels of happiness and often feels much the same to me.

As for me?  I am a romantic and a writer.  I need to feel a deep connection in order to thrive, then I can do almost anything.  I think that is why I love Rumi’s poetry.  I sense a kindred spirit there.  He loves Love.

And so do I.

Where does love go?

You cannot make someone love you. 

You can make him say he loves you.  You might even be able to make him like you, but love comes from a much deeper level.

In the end, it makes more sense to decide how you, yourself, feel.  If you believe you are truly in love with him, what are you going to do about it?

Do you love him enough to set him free and walk away?   Or do you love him so much you are willing to stay and suffer the pain of knowing he does not love you?

The second choice, even if it is a possibility, will be infinitely painful. 

The heart that hangs on too tightly may find itself dragged through impossibly painful places.

Rather than over striving, or seeking revenge, or any other rash action, it might be better to simply back off and continue on your own way.  You do not have to share a house to love someone.  In fact, you do not have to share anything at all.

Love comes from within your own self.

I remember Joe

Being me is scary!  I remind me of a little boy who was once in my Cub Scout Den.  I’ll call him Joe.  Joe was a good kid.  He wanted to be a good kid and he tried really hard.  The trouble was he had a short memory.   He forgot about every ninety seconds and reverted to his normal curious, rambunctious, very active little self.  People cringed when Joe entered a room and that is how he came to join my troop.

I did what I always do with a group of very young children whose attention is centered on everything except me.  I carried a bag of M&M’s for random reinforcement and stuck to Joe like we were Siamese twins.  He loved me!  His mother loved me!  She said he’d never had a better year, or fit in better with any group of boys.  Two hours of Joe left me feeling totally exhausted.

He just needed constant reminding.  I do too.

My intentions are almost always good.  I understand most concepts and know what is necessary for a good life, but I forget.  I don’t know what some people think when they see a piece of butterscotch cream pie, but I think, “Mmmmmm, that looks sooooo good and I may not see another piece for weeks, months, years!”  Then I gobble down that piece and maybe the whole pie before I remember.  It is the same way with bread, or hot rolls, or cheese, or even baked potatoes with sour cream and chives.

It is not that the food I eat is particularly bad for me, but that something inside of me is broken and doesn’t set off the alarms until I have already indulged!  Thank goodness my weaknesses don’t include alcohol.  I’d be a hopeless drunk.

As I approach the end of my first three weeks on this eating plan I am slowly fixing that little alarm that says, “Bazinga!  You are full and no longer eating to stay alive.  Now you are eating enough to kill you.”

It’s the next best thing to another me I have come up with.

Polishing up a great day

Today bestest became a very young Associate Professor!  I am so proud of him I am still beaming ear to ear!

The world is always quick to share the bad things that happen and I think we mistakenly hold back on the good ones.  It often seems as if it is bragging, but I don’t get any credit at all for his achievement.  He did it all on his own with a lot of hard work and perseverance, two incredibly good qualities to have.

The world could use a little more good news, so I am taking the liberty of sharing his.  It surely made me happy.

Maybe a little of my joy will rub off on you!