I looked at life from both sides

The smaller the world, the fewer the options.  If everyone around me is a grandma raising grandchildren that seems like the norm to me. 

If I am simply trying to garner popularity votes I give children whatever they want.

"The norm" reflects my place in the local pecking order.  I can believe whatever I choose and justify nearly anything that is common where I live.

When I step out of this world and look back at life from the universe, things change.

It becomes less about me and more about everyone else.

My actions become less "self" centered and more thoughtful.  Each one has far reaching results that affect people for years, even lifetimes to come.

As individuals we have a huge amount of power. Knowing the difference between using that power for our own comfort levels and the good of those around us requires a little thought.

USPS

Today I confirmed what I already knew.

The people who deliver mail in our neighborhood don't even attempt to contact the person who needs to sign for it.

They simply drop off a slip and move on confident that most people here are at work, or school.

Then I have to set up a "time" to have it redelivered, which means at least two more days.  Or I can go pick it up at the post office in the morning.

I went there long after she had quit delivering in our neighborhood tonight and they claimed they wouldn't have it until morning, but that I could have it at 8:30 AM.  (We'll see how that works out.)

I have always suspected this is what happens, but this time I know because I was texting less than eight feet from that door by her time.  I did not go to the bathroom.  I did not have the television on.  I did not hear the doorbell.  I did not get my package.

Moments

Live in the moment.  Live in the moment.  Live in the moment.

This is the mantra of most ascetics and people trying to be more mindful.  I try to be that way too.

But it occurs to me that all time is made up of moments, so perhaps it depends on who you are -- which moment you choose to be in.

If your life seems awful to you, perhaps you prefer to dwell in other moments.

If your life is awe full, this one will do quite nicely.

Perspective.  It always boils down to perspective.  Looking past the all the "stuff" we carry with us and seeing a situation for what it's worth is an art and like all arts, one that requires some practice and skill.

It isn't always easy to see the truth when it's up close and personal.  And the beauty of truth can be lost in the discomfort of its recognition sometimes.  Comfort zones can create incredible camouflage.

I look in the mirror and see what I want to see, or expect to see, then wonder why the world reacts so much differently than I think it will.  Continuity depends on truth.

A moment is forever if it is painful, but understanding can bring a surcease of sorrow, a moment of clarity that will ease the way in the future.

Moments are life's greatest teachers.

Amazing Gracie

People tend to surprise me.  I think I know who they are.  Lots of people think they know, but they have no idea.

That quiet little woman who knits scarves and volunteers in her retirement has a whole life no one knows about.

She blows away preconceived ideas with the whisper of a breath. 

She embraces the dreams that come to her and allows them to grow.

She holds her secrets close, sharing them only with those who deserve to hear them, and lives the fairy tale others only dream of.

Her smile is not just that of a life well lived, it is the smile of a life lived now!

Soul searching

The dearly departed lies, hands folded, eyes closed in stiff formality.  She looks vaguely familiar but if I didn't know whose funeral I was at, I would not recognize her.

Most funerals are like this for me.  There is something really gone when someone dies.

It is not just flesh and blood and bone that make up a human being.  There is something very important about the battery that runs it.  Whether you call it spirit, or soul, or animating substance, that force that causes the autonomic nervous system to function on its own takes something besides life with it when it leaves.

I see that at funerals and it makes me wonder . . .

Does this force dissipate when the body dies?  Does it go to heaven?  And if it does, how does it get there, where is it, what does it look like?

What if there is an invisible sphere where loose souls go to rest until another invisible sphere connects it with another soul and they drop back into time -- as friends, or mates, or even one unique individual?

Recycled souls, old souls, soul mates, by any name, unique individuals with connections that surpass understanding.

It's not a new idea, but it is a fascinating one and great fodder for a story.

The essence of you

How often do I hear someone say, "Oh, you should have seen, or heard . . ."

Unless we are the only two people around I can barely process that.

I hear the words, or read them and I understand, but I don't really register them.

I am usually so wrapped up in the people where I am that everything else feels sightly surreal.

It's not that I don't care.  It is simply that I am intensely focused on the person I am with.

In that moment they are my world.

Long ago that could be interrupted by a child's scream, but I no longer have to worry about children most places anymore, so now I have the luxury of soaking up every bit of essence from the person in front of me.

That is my gift to me.

Acts of love

"I love you."  The words come easy. People say them all the time.

Given too easily and taken back again and again, these words can leave their object thinking they are as common as the snowflakes that fall from the skies. . . and just as likely to melt away.

But everyone should hear them said the way they were meant to be.  Nothing could be sweeter,  more beautiful, more enlightening.

They warm hearts that were formerly frozen.  They raise spirits so high that the body walks on air.  They bring light into the darkest places.

The acts of love are simple ones: caring, simple caring --  really caring.

The sweetest life

The music of Christmas sets the tone for the whole season.  It is the music of love in all its many forms.

I think almost everyone loves music, of some kind, but it has always had a special place in my heart.  My mother said I would only fall asleep to Burl Ives singing Big Rock Candy Mountain and Yankee Doodle as a toddler.  She played those little yellow records over and over.

I learned to play the piano and sang my favorite songs at the top of my lungs and later I learned to play other instruments.

My favorite music is that sung by the people I love -- in person, on CDs, or recorded just for me on my phone or computer.  As I am writing this I am playing Christmas songs played, sang and recorded just for me! 

Life can be so sweet.

Imagine

Oh!  The inexpressable comfort of defying all odds! 

The joyful abandonment of all worrying!

Imagine being fine with exactly who I am -- even on my worst day.

It took me a while to get to this place.  It really was a long and winding road.  There were no maps, no directions, no striving and really not even any arriving!

One day I just realized we were . . .

and are. . .

and will be. . .

and that was that!

How to spot an elf

 I have it on good authority that Santa's elves sometimes choose to retire.

Why?  I'm really not sure, but I have heard that elves work so hard and so long they have no time to start families of their own, so if they want to do that -- they retire!

Once retired an elf grows just a bit taller, but you can still spot most of them because they are always a little bit shorter and much jollier than other humans you run into.

And . . . they never out grow their love of Christmas!

No matter what else they do --  like marry regular humans, or get advanced degrees and teach school, or even have little half elf-lings -- retired elves celebrate Christmas like no one else you've ever met!

They decorate their trees from top to bottom  --  and twice in between.  They buy so many presents you have to take naps while opening them all.

And . . .I hear they run around the house wearing bells on their toes just because Santa will be there soon!

Once in a while, a very seldom once in a while, one of their elf-lings is born more elf than human and it is said they are quite charming.  These special little creatures love holidays more than even regular children.  They are cute beyond understanding, but full of impish little impulses and their mothers, teachers, aunts and uncles never know quite what to do with them.

Elf spotting is an art, but you can learn to do it -- if you really want to!

Drama

If a million heroes slayed a trillion dragons and conquered a zillion trolls, most of us would still find reasons to wear our smiles upside down.

Charmed  by television shows and movies and even fairy tales, people have become drama junkies.

Until the scales fall from my eyes, I will believe that sadness and other feelings come from outside of me..

But outside events are only the catalysts, the little diggers and daggers that prick me and set free those things inside that make me me.

Most feelings are picked out of the pot of gold lying inside my mind.  I pour them through a learned set of name tags and come up with all sorts of agony, but I could rethink this process --  rename these feelings and find myself much more content.

Drama is highly over rated.

Photographs

I take your picture and you take mine

both our smiles turn out sublime.

It's not the subject.  It's not the pose.

It's just the love bouncing off your nose!

Influence

I love what I do, but sometimes I find myself annoyed with poorly reared children.

All children misbehave.  That's why they are children!  They are still learning all the rules and regulations.  It can even be very cute.

Attitude is something else.  Parents teach attitude by the way they interact with and around their children.  It is not a child's fault if she is catty or feels entitled.  Not at the age I work with.

It is important for people to realize how influential they are in a child's life.  Teaching them to be thoughtful and kind, to be considerate -- is an investment in their future. 

Real self esteem does not need to be loud, or pushy, or needy.

Life is beautiful

Whatever I am born into seems the most natural thing in the world.

My values, my expectations, my whole belief system is neatly packaged and presented to me as the absolute.  To change any of it is unthinkable and yet . . .

I will grow and growth is sometimes disturbing, painful, enlightening -- it  is so many things, not the least of which is -- inevitable.

That tiny nuclear family I was born into expands and all the little seeds planted inside of me begin to grow until I am one unique and wonderful being among a whole world of other unique beings.

I need to remember that everything else grows too.  The possibilities are endless.  There are as many ways to live as there are people and nothing is truly impossible if it is meant to be.  In the words of a famous little fish, "Just keep swimming."

I keep falling into the most amazing situations and every time I think something is impossible I am proved wrong.

Life is beautiful.

Angels among us

There are so many stories of angels coming down to earth, especially at Christmas.  They come as beautiful women, old men, sardonic characters and sickly sweet parodies.

Of all the things we expect, or want, our "perfect" people must be bigger than life.  We need the grand slam, the big event, the experience that is accompanied by trumpets and drum rolls and rising crescendos.

Uniforms are optional, halos, wings, glowing lights, shimmering visages surrounding euphoric smiles.  Whatever it is that makes angels angels must be different from us.

We want them to be mythical!

But they are real and reality has no need to outshine my imagination.  It does not need to wow me with its grandeur, or grab the attention of the world by being special.

Opportunities to be and do wondrous things present themselves all the time.  It is up to me to grab the moment at hand and make the most of it.

Tiny acts done with great love out shine the most amazing super beings.

Gifts

The gift of people is a never ending fountain of wonder.

I look at the world day after day, but one day I look at it through the eyes of a five year old and suddenly there are miracles everywhere.

The mundane ceases to exist.

The world is sweeter, sillier, more dangerous and darling.

I am set free of the confines of sixty four years and once more the child I maybe never was.

Each person is different, even if they came wrapped up with bows on their heads it could be no more obvious.

I look into the eyes before me and Santa Claus smiles back.

A recipe for contentment

Measure the world in minutes, in single or double digits

In Christmas songs and laughter, in sounds of joyful patter.

Color it with looks, with understanding, love and books.

Divide it into distances, two arms and two hands wide

And tie it all together with the things you can confide.

Knoxville memories

Up and down the Knoxville hills
In misty mindful ways.
Slipping in and out of reveries
and the drama of today
A little boy takes his father's hand
Another his father's heart
And still another sorts out his part
On this hilly rainy walk.

Closeness

How close are we?

Holding onto someone tighter doesn't bring them closer.  Closeness is a feeling more than a distance.  I can be on the other side of the world and right in the middle of your heart.

Or I can be in your arms chaffing to get away.

Follow your bliss

Joseph Campbell said to follow my bliss.  That seemed like good advice, but I wasn't quite sure what to do with it.

Now, I realize it is a progression.  Like a symphony building up to the crescendo, bliss starts out small and quiet and becomes an unavoidable focal point.  An inescapable, fundamental, beautiful way of living that simply takes over.

I am not manufacturing bliss, I am truly following it and it leads me into places I never dared to dream of.

Prince Charming

My thots tonight go back fifty two years to my first date.

It all began when I was eight years old.

I went next door to the people I called Aunt Jo and Uncle Ralph.  They had company.  I walked into the living room and there was a man with the whitest hair, the brightest eyes and pinkest skin I had ever seen.  He was gorgeous by my childish standards and his smile lit up my whole world.

I was in love!  I called him Uncle Mack and we had a pact.  When I turned twelve he promised to take me to dinner and dancing.  In the meantime, although his visits were few and far between he always brought me some little trinket like a dollar bill folded into a ring. Those were the treasures of my childhood.

Finally the day came when I was twelve.  By then I was self conscious and aware that he was a very handsome grown up and I was an awkward little girl.  He wasn't there long, but he did take me to dinner and it was magical.  I don't even remember what I wore, except for my first heels.  They were tiny inch and a half spikes.  But I do remember his eyes sparkling in the candlelight, the beautiful way he made me feel.

I didn't see him again until my wedding day eight years later when he gave me his mother's silverware and disappeared forever more.  The only picture I have ever had of him was taken that day.  He is the man sitting in the back of the room with his head turned away from the camera.

Years later I learned he worked for the CIA.  He was supposedly retired when his daughter disappeared and he went undercover to find her.  He never reappeared.  His visits were always so far apart that I didn't notice until it was way too late to even think about finding him, but I suppose that might have been impossible anyway.

He was the real Prince Charming of my childhood.

I'd like to teach the world to sing . . .

A man gets up and speaks to a huge room full of people.  He speaks carefully in heavily accented English, but I can understand him perfectly.  He tells how he brought his family here from the Congo.  He tells everyone that they were educated there -- in French.  Here, in the United States, it was difficult for his children. 

His words are simple, but the message is clear.  Unity does amazing work helping children assimilate into their community.  It doesn't matter whether the hurdles are language, school work, or finding useful interests, Unity helps children become the leaders of tomorrow instead of latch key kids lost in a confusing world.

Unity is what happens when a community is willing to work together.  A few qualified paid employees work with a whole town full of volunteers and everyone begins to sing  --  in tune.

If you'd like to read more about it, here is a link:
http://web.extension.illinois.edu/lmw/unity/991.html

Hibernation

I like my life simple and linear.

That is not possible right now.  I find myself dealing with many over lapping obligations and some very poor planning on the part of others.

The pen pal program that I am part of pairs retired volunteers with school children.  The deadline for my return letter was yesterday.  The first problem?  I have not received my pen pal's letter yet.  The second problem?  I will be leaving town and unable to receive it as of Thanksgiving.  They are having a Thanksgiving dinner for all of us tonight so they must have been aware that a holiday was coming up.

Packing for two different week long trips, back to back, is awkward.

I need to make sure I have enough of my prescriptions to get me through a very long time period. 

I will have a short time period to do laundry between these trips, Christmas cards need to go out in the not too distant future, and garbage goes out for the last time tonight.  Whatever I neglect to put out will be here a long time.

There are other little details to coordinate too.

My response?

Hibernation comes to mind.

♫ Now I'm 64 ♫♪

1967.  The Beatles release a song that will haunt me for the next 46 years!

It was written by Paul when he was sixteen, recorded in 1966 when I was sixteen and released in 1967, the year I graduated from high school.

Every time I heard it, and it came up more often than you might think, I wondered if the love of my life would still find me lovable when I was 64.

What I didn't understand during most of those years is that growing older leaves room for love to expand.  

What seemed like an exclusive little pond in the beginning becomes an ocean over time.

I guess that's the difference between 16 and 64.

Lifestyles

No one wants to be unhappy.  Right?  I used to believe that, but I am not so sure anymore.

Every so often I find myself feeling very frustrated and even angry when confronted by the lifestyle choices of others, going out of their way to create the very situations they moan about.

Every conversation goes back to the injustice, the terrible situations, the absolutely unbearable conditions they live under.  It is as if their identity relies on being used and put upon in order to impress upon the world that they can survive, even thrive, when life is so hard others might cave in.

If life improves, they sabotage themselves by going out of their way to recreate the old situations.  Then resume their old position of "poor me."

I want to help them, to show them that the energy it takes to retain the old ways could be turned around and used to make life better--even good!  They appear to understand, but soon they are fully immersed in the way it was.

Maybe I am the one with the problem.  Perhaps there is something full bodied and satisfying about savoring the dark side.

I prefer something different.

Life of me

This morning I woke up and there was no sinus dripping down my throat, no pounding headache hovering behind my eyes, no wheezing pumping out of my lungs! The allergic rashes are gone!  The diarrhea has disappeared!  My blood pressure is within human range!

It looks like I will survive.  The life of me will continue on.

One of the hardest parts of getting sick is the treacherous route through the doctor's office where, in the name of doing no harm, they force me down paths seldom traveled by a simple bacterial infection.

A bad reaction to the antibiotic was bad enough.  My Achilles tendons are still recovering, but the nuclear stress test was unbelievable.  Thanks to three weeks of unremitting coughing my muscles were aching, so over zealous nurse practitioners hustled me off to the emergency room where they kept me prisoner for six hours of ekgs, cat-scans of my head, x-rays, and ivs while the doctor ambled in and out looking at my blood pressure stats.  She shook her head and asked, "Are you feeling tense?"

This Thanksgiving I am grateful my doctor finally put me back on the medicine that works and quit trying to find something better. 

Six weeks of misery almost obliterated the light at the end of the tunnel.  There were times when I forgot how it all even started.  I began to think of myself as a heart patient, as an invalid, as someone who would go in for blood tests every ten days for the rest of my short and unhappy life.

But today I emerged from the valley of the shadow of modern medicine.  The life of me will go on.

Close your eyes: : http://locustsofegypt.bandcamp.com/track/close-your-eyes

I grew up thinking old age was people slowly fading away as their life became quieter and quieter.  My grandmother might have been the exception.  She started a new business very late in her life and perhaps I just don't know what was really going on in other people's lives.

My life seems to be growing more intense as I grow older.

It is not just that I am trying to cram as much as possible into what is left as much as the feelings that overwhelm me as I move through it all.  I wanted drama and emotion when I was eighteen.  Now I have it.

I met my best friend and soul mate in a winter spring relationship that has been one of the richest experiences anyone could ever imagine.  He brings out the best in me and offers me opportunities to do those things I always dreamed of but thought were lost.

Music floods my life as those I love write and sing the songs that melt my heart and bring tears to my eyes.

My love of reading and writing become dreams come true when I am able to assist someone whose writing turns into books read and valued by academia.

And I am able to give back in ways that are soul satisfyingly wonderful by working with young children in literacy programs nearby.

Each time I have had to give up something I thought I could not live without, another "something" has come along to carry me away on a wave of living that might appear to be contrived if it were a play -- except it isn't.  It is real.

Long apron strings

I am not perfect.  I have made so many mistakes in my life that counting them would be impossible, but my children are not one of them.

I like who they are, the adults they have grown into, and when they do something especially good I like to think I planted the seeds for it when they were still small.

Then there are the other things, the things I cannot believe they chose, or  do differently.  When this happens I search for the reasons.  What did I do, or not do that might have led to this?

I realize that their whole world does not revolve around me and my thoughts. I made choices both because and in spite of my mother.

Still, there is a tendency on my part to believe that a lot of who they are comes from what I taught them, so I cannot seek absolution just because they choose to do something I would prefer they not do now.

The hardest part of being a mother is letting go of those adorable babies who once sat on my lap and depended on me for everything, but their autonomy makes me proud.

I don't really want them tied to my apron strings forever, but I do wish I could reel them in for a hug a little more often.

Somebody's child

I have always believed that if the world were run by women it would be a more peaceful place.  Then I realized that women, like men, can do what I consider unbelievable things, irrational things, unkind, mean things.

In today's world where fathers change diapers, prepare meals, bathe their babies I have had some new thoughts.

The hands on experience creates a bond stronger than anyone who has never experienced it could ever understand.  Once you have held a life in your arms, soothed it, dealt with its fits and tears, taught it what you believe, you have had a taste of being a god.  It alters you.

I think the world needs to remember that feeling.  Elected officials who don't have that kind of background might be missing the most important truth of all.

Everyone is somebody's child.

Alphabet soup

 A set of symptoms defines an illness. 

If I have a, b, and c, then it must be this.  If I had d, e, f, it would be something else.

I have alphabet soup so they don't know where to start anymore.

The problem with this is that the medicine they give me to combat the guess of the moment often causes more problems.

Today I don't know if I am sick or just not dealing well with the medicine I took all last week.  It sure feels like sick either way, so this afternoon I go for more tests.

It seems to fill up all my creative space and leave me nothing to really write about.