Pause before you Punch...

... or How to Deal with Mean People

My friend and colleague, the beautiful and talented, Deb Smouse, recently asked if I had any tips on dealing with mean people. Not knowing exactly what she desired, I decided to do a little journaling around the topic to find out what I know ☺.

Bottom line, no matter how hard we try and hope it isn't so, they do exist and well... Sometimes mean people are just plain mean. They get under your skin and make you feel like you want to lash out and be mean too (or at least I do.) When I feel my blood pressure start to rise and my chest begin to pound, I realize that’s usually the time to take a deep breath and pause for a quick look in the mirror. Stop. Look. Listen. Notice and begin to imagine where their nastiness might be coming from, because most often it doesn’t have anything to do with me. I’ve also learned that without the pause, I’m at risk of feeding their fire (or ire) by turning up the heat with my less desirable Lucy-girl tactics. While momentarily this might feel good, it typically feels downright yucky and both of us walk away feeling singed. If I can avert this quick response and gather my pause, I often discover it’s the perfect time to pull out my super-secret (wish everyone knew about it) diffuser: Compassion. Whether or not the other person is willing to receive it, depends on them. In any case, through compassion I can stay grounded and with much better-feeling results than trying to match their nasty attitude.

(Warning: If you offer compassion and kindness to someone and consistently walk away feeling guilty or at fault for their bad mood, you’re probably dealing with a narcissist. My advice is to steer clear!)

Grumpsters come in all varieties and curmudgeons are my favorites. They’re usually just big old teddy bears who lay on the mild end of the “mean” scale just before hard-to-love, prickly, but ultimately approachable people and far away from sociopaths or narcissists who can rarely be won over and always leave you feeling icky. My approach with curmudgeons (and I realize I’m now giving away trade secrets) is to tame them with kindness. I like to get playful and perhaps a little sassy with these growly bears while feeding them their own direct medicine. I truly love being their pal, and rarely let them off the hook, because curmudgeons typically enjoy a good jest and are usually just trying to stir things up.

In my experience mean people are always asking for something and while it usually looks like they want you to go away, the exact opposite is often true. My kids, for example, have perfected the nasty look or growling get-away-from-me grunt. They can trigger me faster than any living person, so it’s trickier with people you’re close to, because you’re often a lot alike and/or it feels like there’s more at risk than with someone you don’t know. Once I began to understand my own insecurities and hidden motivations for being mean, it became easier to stick it out with others and turn on the loving compassion. It also taught me to slow down and consider how things aren’t always as they seem.

If pausing, looking in the mirror and calling on compassion, doesn’t do the trick for taming a mean person, then my surefire, foolproof approach to not letting this person get to me is to imagine they are about four or five years old. I see them slightly past the terrible two’s (although it can be fun to think of them at this age), but not yet jaded by a world of should’s and should not’s. By seeing an offensive person as a tender child who only wants to be loved, I’m able to drop my own defensiveness and tap into unconditional love and compassion. If four or five years old doesn’t work, I drop the age even younger until I can only see them as needing care. I can’t even begin to imagine retaliating or hurting them. I try to envision what this child might need – a kind word, a grounded presence, a hug or pat on the back. Mentally offering it to them can be equally powerful when it’s inappropriate to do it physically. In some cases they may just need to be left alone. In the case of hard-core offenders (sociopaths/narcissists), sometimes we just need to walk away and take care of our own inner child (i.e. don’t add to the abusiveness by staying in the line of fire!) It’s ok to move away gently and acknowledge for ourselves where and how it hurts. Finally, I allow myself to remember sometimes mean people are just plain mean.

Be sure to pop on over to Debra Smouse’s To Box or Not to Box for another viewpoint on dealing with those mean-spirited people in your life.

You can also visit me at Diamonds in the Soul to learn more about me.

Anyone There?

Themes of birth, awakening and mothers float through my mind. Vivid dreams invade my night and wake me like a whisper from my sleep. I roll over, turn off the alarm and sink into that space where dreamland meets dawn. The space between past, present and future cannot be delineated and my earliest memory drifts into now. I am older than one and younger than two. Standing in my crib with an earnest look on my face, I am not crying or distressed. I appear to be reaching, perhaps not with my arms, but only with my eyes. Anyone there? My eyes stretch into the room beyond the recesses of my barred bed and beckon, Anyone there?

Isn't that the question I still ask today? In times of lament, I turn to the ancient lie I tell myself. I am not important. I will always be alone. Was no one there? Sharing my 10 year old brother's room, I wonder if he resented my presence from the beginning. I recall the black eye my mother received when she bumped the door jamb during a nightly visit to me. Would she return again?

So odd, these memories. So very interesting. Anyone there is what I continue to ask today. Will you read my work? Hold my hand? Laugh at my jokes? Kiss my lips? Notice my hair? Anyone there? Are you paying attention? Do you see me? Is it possible I still carry the look of a one year old standing in her crib - reaching and searching for connection. Anyone there?

What are the questions you ask yourself or the lies you whisper when past & present merge?

photo - Paris

Shared Memories

Earlier this evening I found myself responding to a post by Sunrise Sister reflecting on her recent experiences with her 50th class reunion. While she and I grew up in the same family, we had vast gulfs in our own experiences beginning with an age difference of several years. She and I continue to be amazed as we’ve entered adulthood and ultimately friendship, how life has shaped us in similar and different ways.

It was my distinct privilege to travel with her for the event of a lifetime – the gathering of friends who spent 12 years together in school – many of them still living in the same district from which they graduated. Even though I was just a tot when they graduated from high school, they influenced me as they orbited around my sister who seemed larger than life to her baby sis.

Attending a reunion breakfast with SS one morning, I was amazed at the memories that flooded back to me. In front of me sat the gregarious twins who I’ve never seen apart from each other – they were chattering bookends with my sis in the middle as I recalled those years. They lived around the corner from us and their house still stands just as I remembered it. Speaking with them I recalled falling off my bike and scraping my knee only to confirm it was their caring mother who scooped me up and tenderly patched my bleeding wound. Her act of tenderness has never left me.

I also encountered the tall prince who I gazed up at with star-struck eyes when he came to pick up my sis for a fancy banquet (I always thought it was a dance, but learned there was no dancing allowed in the provincial school.) He smiled at me in present time and became a little teary as he remembered his own little brother, my age, who died when he was just a boy. And then there was the prom queen – a little worn with age, but recognizable nonetheless as she opened her mouth and spoke to me in Southern drawl of yet another brother, my age, who passed away just last year. For many of my sister’s classmates, I was a mascot of sorts – a reminder of their mothers who birthed children in their 30’s (almost unheard of in that day.)

One other neighbor introduced himself and we both gave our descriptions of the circular path in front of his house – to me it was a giant driveway on which to ride my bike endlessly; to him a small sidewalk nearly forgotten. Who knew all of those memories would tumble out of a woman who was barely 4 years old when they were created? The emotions these individuals evoked in me were surprising, tender and pretty remarkable.

It’s funny how I started to write this post about my own reunion that occurred on this same trip. Today, however, it feels important to honor the people who grew up a little before me. Like my sister, I cannot shake the awareness that each of these encounters both past and present has marked my life with indelible ink.

People (& things) seem pretty darn big in the eyes of a four year old. Are there those you recall who were bigger than life? The handsome prince, a gentle caregiver, the beautiful queen? Your adored sibling or parent? How do they still impact you today? If it's been awhile, I invite you to take a stroll down memory lane. The path to get there may be shorter than you think.

lucy circa 1960
the "giant" driveway - photo 2010

mother's day - aaarrrghh!

"Nothing else will make you as happy or as sad, as proud or as tired, for nothing is quite as hard as helping a person develop his own individuality especially while you struggle to keep your own."

--Marguerite Kelly and Elia Parsons, The Mothers Almanac

what can i write for a blog post today? words don't feel especially pretty here. i hate mother's day - a strong sentiment, i know. And lest, anyone think I'm totally cold-hearted, I wish all of you mother's out there a joyous day. i especially send my condolences to those who grieve because they aren't mothers (i know this day is hard for you, and it's yet another reason for my disdain of the 2nd sunday in may.)

mothers... what can i say? mothers love. mothers die. they hurt. they mess up and they do the best they can. they are loving, hateful, compassionate and cruel. they are the most important thing in the world to us, and we discount what they have to say because "they're just our mothers."

today is a gorgeous day outside. my husband has already brought me coffee in bed and breakfast is on the way. my son sent and created the beautiful card you see here, complete with an original poem. my daughter is still sleeping soundly (which is what a 17 year old girl should be doing on sunday morning). i have lovely plans for the day - some just for me and others spent with my family.

i have already shed tears for the loss of my mother who died 6 years ago today on mother's day. i have been angry at her and myself. i have grieved for friends who i know also struggle with this day, and i have rejoiced with those who relish what it means to be a mom. before 8:00 a.m. i have felt a full range of emotions including laughter, tears, anger and grief.

And... i believe that's what being alive is all about - it's about feeling our feelings. i recognized quickly this morning the pull between the radiant sunshine and warmth that greeted me outside and the tug inside my body that screams "I hate this day." it isn't one or the other. it's both, and the more clearly i can name it, the more i can be present to this day - or any other. so regardless of your mother-status or gender, i send you warm wishes on this sacred sunday.

may you feel your feelings fully and celebrate the beauty of who YOU are!!!

Truth of an Ending

Relationships are complex. I realize large doses of energy are spent considering relationship of some form - with myself - with others - with God. I woke up this morning with these words running through my mind - It is in relationship that we are broken and in relationship we are healed.

There's a theme of abandonment that runs through my personal narrative... So, much of the time I feel as though ended relationships are a failure on my part. If only I'd done something different, perhaps the relationship would have survived. If only I'd been a better friend, mother, daughter, fill-in-the blank, maybe they wouldn't have left. Sound familiar?

And then there are those relationships where I know I was the one who threw down the gauntlet and said, "This isn't working. Something needs to change" and the other party chose not to engage, and the relationship ended. So then what? Who has failed? Perhaps no one. Maybe everyone.

As I awoke this morning, I was greeted with these words, "magically" appearing in the form of "Today's Gift":

"Regret is an appalling waste of energy, you can't build on it: it's only good for wallowing in." - Katherine Mansfield

"Sentences beginning with "if only" can go nowhere but straight to regret... At times it's we, ourselves, who do the leaving. We can count it a success, not a failure, when we've had the courage to acknowledge the truth of an ending." -- Joan Larkin

That last sentence is slowly creating a shift in my perspective. Can I claim the bravery in seeing 'the truth of an ending'- the wisdom of letting go - the necessity of saying good-bye?

Are there places where you hang onto regret and find yourself wallowing in "if only's"? Would your perspective change if you saw the ending of a defunct relationship as a success rather than a failure? Can you listen to the truth that lies within your own heart - remembering there are three kinds of relationship - with God - with others - and with yourself?

Will you ponder alongside me?

"friends" photo © lucy

Oodles of Delicious

For Christmas, I received a wonderful little diary called "Keel's Simple Diary." It has sometimes silly and often thought-provoking prompts to jot down reminders of your life. Yesterday's first prompt looked like this:

Your day was (choose only one).

() getting there () outspoken (X) like spaghetti.

Explain why: ... oodles & oodles of deliciousness!!!

My days continue to be full and I miss spending more time around the blogosphere, but I am savoring each moment. Part of the SAVOR comes from a wise woman who has come to visit for the weekend. Yesterday's "oodles" consisted of an extended morning (er afternoon) in our pajamas with lots of conversation, giggles, a few tears, rain rain rain, a little food, snuggles with the kitty and more conversation. Decadent? Perhaps. The stuff of life worth savoring? Absolutely!

The evening ended with my January SoulCollage® workshop and 10 fabulous women in attendance. Blessings truly abound.

This morning the rain seems to have abated for awhile, so perhaps we'll ease out of our pj's a little sooner and take a walk... and talk, and giggle and probably cry a little. Ah yes, it is indeed a time to savor!

So... How was your day? (choose only one).

() getting there () outspoken () like spaghetti.


Explain why:

Bend or Break?

Warning: Lots of questions. Few answers.

“Why are some of the sweetest and most profound moments created out of agonizing heart break?” This is a question recently posed by an amazingly resilient friend. I wonder at times why she has not broken into a million little pieces.

Our conversation and several other events led me to consider the next question(s): Why do some people rise to the challenge and become stronger, wiser and more deeply committed to life; while others break or sink into despair, pathology and bitterness? Why are some resilient and others brittle? Why can some see beauty and sweetness even in the midst of heartbreak?

This month’s Vanity Fair includes an article on Farrah Fawcett’s last years. It really, however, is an article about her surviving lover, Ryan O’Neal. The depth of pain and bitterness that comes out through O’Neal’s thinly-veiled cynicism is heartbreaking - particularly as he speaks of the addiction that tormented his family. His anger, hatred and hopelessness pointed me toward thoughts of men and women I know who battle similar challenges. The difference in response is astounding as I witness parents who keep holding hope for their children through the direst circumstances while O’Neal jokes about wishing some of his offspring had never been born. (Please do not read this as a judgment of O’Neal. I see a heartbroken man and not someone to be condemned.) It is the contrast of which I speak. Why are some people able to see through the ugliness to the inner core of beauty and others are unaware beauty might even exist?

I think of Biblical examples, like the prodigal son and the shepherd who leaves the 99 sheep to find the lost one. These parents keep coming back with love – again and again. They bend and stretch, and do not snap. Their resilience and flexibility surpass the rigidity that ultimately causes rupture and bitterness. Why do some rubber bands keep stretching and others snap and break?

Is it by Christ’s example of selfless love? By loving God and your neighbor (or child) as yourself? By practicing self-care? All of the above? Or is it just plain luck? Who am I to say? In my experience I have learned one pretty simple thing: if God is eased out of my equation, bitterness quickly seeps in...and the downward spiral plummets. I do not know why some rubber bands break and others stretch, but I do know: If we can’t love ourselves, we can’t love anyone else well.

"golden spiral" - bermuda 7.09

enCouragingBliss: What would you sacrifice?

What do you want? What do you really need? What would make your soul burst into the flower, into the universe that it was born to be? And what are you willing to sacrifice to get there? These are questions posed by BlissChick on her latest post: enCouragingBliss: What Would you Sacrifice?

Pondering these questions, I sat down with pen and paper and this is what poured out: What do I want? What do I need? I want my family to be healthy and whole. I am one of the lucky ones. I do not have to worry about whether or not there is enough food on the table or where we will sleep at night. If my children want to go to college, we could make that happen.

I have the house – the car – the life that many people dream of having and I am VERY grateful. I have made choices – even sacrifices – along the way. We live in the “starter home” we bought 20 years ago. It is more than enough. We chose to live our life on one income. It has been a good income. Like I said, I don’t have to worry about much. Still I ponder…what do I want? need?

I want the freedom to go for a walk in the sunshine – to put pen to paper – to watch my children reach adulthood. I would sacrifice my life for my children, but I will not sacrifice my living – my bliss. To live means to explore the depths of my heart – to experience joy which can come from something as simple as rolling in the grass with friends - to feel sorrow so deep that breaking glass or throwing rocks in the ocean is all that can suffice.

In regard to material things - I repeat - I have been very fortunate. In addition to the house – the car – the children, I have an advanced education, access to books and music. I could attend opera, plays, visit museums and other cultural events if I so desire. Still, I come back to the simple things. Watching a child play in the park. Scratching a few words into my $2 composition notebook. Walking hand in hand with my husband to watch a sunset after a day’s work.

In light of the economy and life’s uncertainties I take none of these things for granted. I return to the questions: What do I want? What do I need?

I need connection with people – with nature – with God – with myself. A roof over my head which I have imagined as a motor home of simple means or a lean-to on a Mexico beach. Basic food – rice, beans, veggies & fruit.

What would I sacrifice? How do I begin to name sacrifice? BlissChick calls it “sacred and holy choosing.” Holy choice. I believe I make holy choices every day. Will I spend time with God or will I sit down and veg out in front of the tv? Will I expand my work to help others or will I focus only on me? Will I fix a meal with love for my family or drive through a fast food restaurant and fill my body with toxins?

Yes, I have a choice. I have the means to drive my car and purchase food. Still I hope I am making conscious choices to live my bliss. Bliss knows that creating art with crayons and scratch paper can be as powerful as traveling to Paris to visit the Louvre – that spaghetti with loved ones is more important than dining at a 5-star restaurant alone – that riding the bus will give me as much contentment as touring the country in my convertible.

I know I have these choices. I have worked hard to have them. I work to hold onto the choice. I have lost friends and social status because of my choices. It is not easy choosing to be different. I have been considered “whacko” or “out there” because I navel-gaze and consider my bliss. I would go to the wall for authentic connections. I would sacrifice much – all – anything for the three most important relationships in life: God, Others & Myself.

Thanks BlissChick for asking these questions. So, what do you really need and what are you willing to sacrifice to get there?

sometimes they do surprise us!

Yesterday I came home to find this lovely photo printed out and laying on the kitchen counter. It is a photo I have not seen before now. For those of you who might need a little context, the dog is my beloved, Curry, who left this earthly plain last Labor Day. The sweet face next to his is my teenage daughter who most often communicates in one syllable responses these days.

I wonder what she is trying to say now? Sometimes they do surprise us!

pondering...

“i wonder if people i've just met sometimes "know" me better than those i've been around a really long time.”

I posted the above status on Facebook this afternoon. It is a thought I have been pondering since returning last night from a week in the heart of Texas. My main intent for the trip was to attend the Spiritual Director’s International conference and I ended up adding time to spend with a wide range of family and friends. The range included those who have known me my whole life, a college roommate dating back to the 70’s, and friends who I met 20 years ago upon arrival in Seattle.

My hope is to have some time to debrief on the SDI conference which was wonderful on multiple levels, but for today I continue to consider the beginning statement. “i wonder if people i've just met sometimes "know" me better than those i've been around a really long time.” These words arose as I looked back over the past week which was filled with many wonderful conversations and lots of reminiscences. The most memorable moment, however, occurred with a woman I met at the conference, spent no more than two hours with and very likely will not encounter again in this life.

It was one of those moments where I absolutely knew without a shadow of a doubt that I had looked into another’s soul and she into mine. Words cannot adequately describe, but my life has been indelibly marked by that encounter.

It leaves me knowing there is a Presence greater than I - One who delivers surprises when we least expect. I also wonder about the loneliness that can be felt when those who are supposed to "know" me seem to not really see me. I ponder how I might, too, be blind. Lots of curious questions mixed with contentment and gratitude for the moments that just are…for the God that is…for the person I am and the new ways I see myself each day.

I’ve missed our conversations here and look forward to hearing from you soon.

Peace and blessings!

Language of Letting Go

“Today I will begin the process of letting go of all self-defeating feelings and beliefs connected to past relationships. I will clear my slate so I am free to love and be loved.” - Melody Beattie

This process of healing is long and hard – just like the process of being hurt. It is not just one grand instance – perhaps that would be easier and quicker to forgive. It is instead death by a thousand pinpricks so small in the moment that they might not be noticeable at all, but added together over years and years of time, they create a gaping hole that may seem impossible to fill. However…nothing is impossible. It may take more than this lifetime – perhaps not – but it will take diligence. One tiny dot at a time covering over the hole – patching it sometimes with the size of a needle’s eye and other times with big scoops and shovels full. Each time by letting go a little more, the gaping hole is healed.

If one sets one's mind to not forgive, the hole will remain jagged and deep, but if we open ourselves to forgiveness and grace – to gratitude for what we have received – the light will begin to fill the darkness.

Today, I tossed handfuls of fertile soil into the hole. I chose to look her in the face. I opened the door just a little bit more toward forgiveness. Little by little we are being healed; just as little by little, we were harmed. Happy Birthday, Daisy!

Sabbath. Rest. Delight.

I do not know much about Sabbath. I am learning how to Rest, and Delight is finding more space in me and with others. I am truly blessed to be surrounded by people—a community even—who are willing to look at things in new ways and break out of molds that have held them for most of their lives.

This morning I awoke very early and spent some quiet time in prayer and contemplation. The Bible verse for the reading today was this: For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him. (Psalm 103:11)

I was taking it in and really feeling the expanse of God’s love until I reached the words “for those who fear him.” I ponder why those words must be there. Who made the translation? Is fear required to receive the expanse of love? I tried to convince myself that a little “healthy fear” is good for everyone, but my mind continues again and again to the damage done when we are hammered and shamed with a fear-based God. And, how the God of love never leaves us. While a fear-based God is not the topic of this post, I wanted to mention that because it seems relevant to the way I spent my evening last night—my Sabbath. It was an evening where the presence of an expansive, loving God was very, very present.

Eight of us were called together for Sabbath—to light the candles, share food and wine and enter into a time of delight. I can see the evening unfold in my mind, but something stops me from putting it onto paper. Somehow, in this case, words seem to limit the experience. I do, however, feel the great desire to mark this occasion for those times when I might not remember so vividly. The evening was a true blessing and will continue far longer than the flame of those Sabbath candles.

As I opened my computer this morning I was greeted with the sweet aroma of last night’s Sabbath once again. It seems most apt to share these words of our host that arrived in my inbox this morning.

"Just settled down to do some Meister Eckhart meditation and the first one that popped up as I randomly opened the book was this:

God's peace
prompts service among brothers and sisters.
In that way one creature

sustains another.

One enriches the other,

and that is why
all creatures are interdependent.

That is so evidently real tonight. I am grateful for you all and our mutual sustaining and enriching.

So that was the first meditation I read, and it is now the last. Want to soak it in."

Me, too. I want to soak it all in. My hope is to continue to learn and experience more of Sabbath, Rest and Delight. That hope is for me, for you, for the World! It is a hope as we consider entering the season of Advent which begins one week from tomorrow. Amen & Shabbat Shalom!

First Moment of Dawn

"There's a sun in every person--the you we call companion." --Rumi

Sometimes it is hard to know where the beginning of the thread is. Or maybe it is more like tiny pieces in a mosaic that look indistinguishable until you stand back and see the picture as a whole. Barbara used the metaphor of a movie to comment on my last post:

"We don't see the big picture. We each only play a bit part in that movie, but one that is key to the movie's completion."

And so the thread continues and more thoughts bubble around in the stew. This happened when I read Mind Sieve's reflections on Veteran's Day. It is a moving post and well worth taking the time to read. It was the last line that has stayed with me:

"Should we look away and save our hurt at the loss of others while our families remain safe....or should we watch and realize that their losses are our losses as well?"

It is my belief that once we begin to look into the eyes of another as though they are our own, we cannot look away...unless, of course, that is how we treat ourselves. Do you look away from your own hurt and suffering? Or do you choose to enter the suffering, so that it can begin to heal? Again, I believe that our threads cannot be unentwined. Our piece of the mosaic is not easily distinguished. We never know how our bit part may affect the outcome of the great movie.

So, in closing, I would like to leave you with this parable to consider. It is from the Talmud and I ran across it this morning in The Book of Awakening.

A Rabbi asks his students, "How do you know the first moment of dawn has arrived?" After a great silence, one pipes up, "When you can tell the difference between a sheep and a dog." The Rabbi shakes his head no. Another offers, "When you can tell the difference between a fig tree and an olive tree." Again, the Rabbi shakes his head no. There are no other answers. The Rabbi circles their silence and walks between them, "You know the first moment of dawn has arrived when you look into the eyes of another human being and see yourself."

Blessings to you this day. May you see yourself in the eyes of another. May you experience the first moment of dawn.

"face of sagada" found here
"dawn" by lucy

freeze frame

A moment in time. Sunday with my son. Beautiful. Slow. Steady. His glorious smile lighting the day. But first, a sharing of his heart. His fears. His struggles. Authentic and true. There is a humility about him. A realness. A maturity.

We talk over eggs and sausage. I smile. He is my son. We are so much alike and we are so different. We spend the day driving together. He, practicing to get his license. Me, learning to let go. He, becoming more relaxed and consequently me too. (I wonder if the relaxation is with the car or with each other? ☺) The day goes on. A stop by Sunset Hill. “Mom, will you take my picture?” We pick up his sister and drop her off at soccer and then IT happens. The icing on the cake of an already perfect day.

He starts to sing along with the stereo. The Beatles. “Let it be.” He sings aloud. Playfully. Not really in tune. We are so much alike ☺. He is performing. No, he is singing to me—to us. I am holding my closed hand as microphone to his mouth. We laugh. I sing a little myself. Time stops. I want to freeze frame this moment. This day. Let it be. It has been a long time coming. It has been well worth the wait if only for this moment.

crucible

Stepping into the crucible of relationship. The place where no one really wants to go. The place where the heat gets turned up so high that parts of you begin to melt away. Bill Bryson speaks of places in Australia that are so hot you begin to cook from the inside out. That is what it feels like sometimes to be in relationship--cooking from the inside out. I want to run. I want to hide. It hurts too much and yet I cannot turn away, because it is too important. It is not important in the sense that I must prove myself right or get a point across. It is important in the sense that it is the place God calls me to be. My role in life to step into the paradox. To be kind and to speak the truth. They don’t always appear to be the same.

Growing up as the "nice" girl, I was taught that being nice was the most important thing in the world—at least to someone’s face. Now as soon as they were gone you could speak the real truth. It was a pattern that left me reeling and off balance for most of my life. It reminds me of the discussions on mind reading and projection. How can we possibly know what someone else means or what they are thinking unless we ask them? But that is when the heat can turn up. Jumping into the crucible can mean you will get burned. It can also mean that something new and beautiful can emerge. The dross burned away. The gold allowed to shine through. It is a risk.

I made a commitment to myself many years ago that I would no longer live in the two-faced, hidden, “nice” world that keeps me and others off-balance from not really knowing the truth. And, yes, sometimes the truth hurts. But, don’t forget this one: The truth shall set you free.

Is freedom worth stepping into the heat? I believe it is.
photos by lucy 7.08

more to consider...

My recent post "consider this" was one that addressed the issue of projection (i.e. placing what we think someone else is thinking onto them). Not surprisingly, many of the comments turned to how we relate to families and projection quickly (and i believe appropriately here) became labeled "mind reading."

Also, the next day one of my morning reflections was titled "Realistic Expectations" and contained many lines which as stuck with me for several days:

"Families can become ghettos of unfulfilled expectations."

Whew...how often do we get caught up in that? The reading went on to say: (In our relationships), "we can expect something that others may not be able to give." (especially if we fail to communicate clearly what it is we expect them to give). My readers had some very insightful comments, so I am bringing a few of them out of the closet...oops...the comment box.

• "I do, and I have been that person. The words speak again to me. Every now and then one needs to be reminded by these very precious reality checks."
• "Yesterday i had some one get offended because my 15 year old walked up to me after working on painting the house for 3 hours and said "Mom, I need some stroking!" and i of course proceeded to OOOO and AHHHH over the great job he had done." (I, lucy, love that this 15 year old feels safe enough to tell his mom just what he needs! No mind reading necessary here! Bravo!!)
• "I don't know where we all got the notion that we could read minds because none of us ever COULD!!! Walking into a situation when one believes they are telling the truth in love might be tested on a mirror or wall prior to presenting one's thoughts that, oh by the way, carry years of pent up anger, regret, and resentment to an unsuspecting scapegoat - a friend, a parent, a sib, a spouse.
  
  Lord, help us to measure our own inner selves, our motives, our real expectations before we unleash what is hard to take back just because our lives have become unmanageable in living with all of our disappointments and/or bad mindreading habits."
• "In my own life (and really, from what other place can I write), I'm most guilty of this with the people closest to me--and that's where it can be so especially damaging. After years of togetherness, it's easy to take for granted that we know, or they know, when in reality, we're all changing every day...this makes me realize that I should be checking in every day--questioning, listening, learning..."

Thank you readers for this conversation! So what happens when we play the mind reading game? When we expect others to behave or respond in a certain way? When we rely on people to give us something (comfort, care, attention) that they may be incapable of giving or not "know" they are supposed to give? When we rely on man rather than God for our comfort and care?

In closing here is the rest of "Realistic Expectations":

"Nouwen warns us against "expecting from a friend what only Christ can give."

A second issue is to look at our motives for service. All too frequently we give in order to get.

Finally, we need to realize that one of the greatest gifts we can give to others is the gift of freedom, where we allow the other person to take the responsibility for his or her own responses, choices and future." from Dare to Journey with Henri Nouwen

I would love to hear more of what you have to say!

Please note: the accompanying cartoon was lovingly sent to me by a dear family member ☺. Click on the image for a closer view.

this showed up today...

If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we should find in each man's life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.
--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Most of us make trouble for ourselves by over-reacting to what others say or do. We have conditioned ourselves to see everyone else as "the enemy" rather than look within ourselves for the real cause of our distress.

If we can pause long enough to uncover our own hidden discomfort and distorted attitudes before we react with harsh criticism or vindictive silence, we can change our destructive first impulses into a loving interchange between individuals.

Today let me not be quick to criticize or condemn another. I will look at others as friends, not as foes, on my journey toward self-discovery.

You are reading from the book:

The Reflecting Pond by Liane Cordes

Indifference

I am indifferent. At least that is what I have been labeled. So, let me ask you this: do indifferent people experience anger and hurt? Do they spend days or weeks (or months or years) considering how to fix someone else’s hurt even though they know it is an impossible task? Do they awaken feeling unrested from a nighttime of grief? Do they consider ceasing to do what they love most to pacify someone else’s needs? Do they measure their words and weigh the cost of speaking from their heart? Do they think about little else than the one who has been hurt by their "indifference"?

How does one adequately respond to such a claim? It feels like a huge bind, because to say, “No, I’m not” appears to dismiss the importance of the feelings of the other. It also feels like justifying or trying to excuse the indifference that did not exist in the first place. And, to not respond only seems to indicate or prove that indifference does exist.

I am tired. I am exhausted from years of challenging relationships. It appears, however, that if I am not meeting the expectations of someone else (even unspoken and/or unknown expectations) then I am indifferent. I am tired. I am angry. I am hurt. Is that what you call indifferent? If so, then that’s me.

my village

Home again. It has been a nice relaxing day of resting, nesting, catching up on e-mail and home stuff. The wind has been blowing like crazy and the rains have been consistent throughout the day. Right now the sun has decided to pop out and give us a little blue sky for the evening.

My life has entered an odd pattern these days. I feel kind of like a firefighter who goes to live at the station for a week and then returns home. When I am facilitating for Soltura, I know where I am supposed to be and my focus is centered on helping the participants throughout their workshop. It is intense, exhilarating and exhausting. So the challenge when I return to my home is to find the balance of what needs to be done and to what I choose to be present.

When I am facilitating, I am totally present to the participants. It is a very cool experience, because they each come looking for some kind of change in their life. I find that my gifts shine in this environment. Last week was very cool because there were four young ladies who are close in age to my son. So in many ways they were an interesting combination of my son and daughter. One of them shared her philosophy of “being raised by a village” and thanked each of us for being part of her village.

It was so wonderful to see how these women also helped “raise me” with their courage, insight, tenacity and love. It never ceases to amaze me how similar human beings are and yet how very different. The great thing is allowing ourselves to be open and see what we can learn from each other. (I think it’s great to consider relationships with an open door policy ☺.)

This evening I am tired, but content. My home is clean. My heart is in good spirits. My family is safe. And my “village” continues to expand. Blessings abound and I am eternally grateful for life as I know it.

fight, flight or a third way?

We are slowly discovering what many of us are calling "the Third Way," neither flight nor fight, but the way of compassionate knowing. Both the way of fight and the way of flight fall short of wisdom, although they look like answers in the heat of the moment. When it's an either/or world you have no ability to transcend, to hold together, to be creative.

from Hope Against Darkness by Richard Rohr

I read the above quote this morning and it really resonated with me. As is often the case, many different thoughts and ideas started swirling around in my mind and fighting for attention. I thought of my recent post, feel your feelings as well as Sunrise Sister’s post here. The other topic that ran through my mind was the Couples Workshop that I am leaving to facilitate tomorrow.

As I reflect on these three topics, I realize that they cover relationships with ourselves, the world and committed personal relationships—as well as our overreaching relationship with God which always shows up (I believe) when our eyes and hearts are open ☺.

Limited on time this morning, I cannot delve into this as I would like, however, here are a few thoughts that worked their way onto paper.

Will the couples (will we as people; I as a person) choose to fight or flee or will they decide to try something new in relationship? We must be risk takers in order to be peacemakers. They go hand in hand. It is sometimes risky to seek peace. To seek a new way of looking at things. To do something different when the old is not working.

In living each day there is always the urge to fight or flee. Sinking into depression and not considering options can be a form of flight. Immediately going to outside sources for cures, saying “Nothing is wrong” or merely treating of symptoms is a form of fight. Feeling the pain, being in it, wrestling with it, resonates of the "compassionate knowing" of which Rohr speaks.

There are so many ways to look at this, but for now these are the bubblings of my brain. I am not sure if I will be back here over the next week or not. I hope you will ponder some of these thoughts along with me. Also, if you are so inclined, please say a prayer, send special thoughts, warm feelings, whatever it is you may do to the brave men and women who will be participating in Soltura’s first couples workshop. I am one of the facilitators and I am excited, encouraged AND nervous as can be!

May each of us consider choosing a “compassionate knowing” rather than fight or flight as we enter this new week. Peace! ☺