another good-bye OR end of an era

This time the good-bye is not one of living breathing sorts, but rather it is a farewell to our 1993 Previa mini-van. As of today, I am officially no longer a mini-van mom. It is with mixed emotions that I say this farewell for indeed it feels much more like the end of an era rather than the sale of a car.

I can still picture the day nearly 15 years ago when my husband called and asked me to come test drive this gem he had just found. Things moved pretty quickly and before I knew it, he had returned to work and I was left at the car dealership with two very small children (aged 4 and one.) The three of us were there for what seemed like hours, but at the end of the day I was no longer a BMW-driving yuppie and had officially joined the ranks of Soccer moms everywhere (even though soccer would not be introduced into our lives for four more years.)

It feels funny to have this little tug pulling at my heart as I sit waiting for the new owner to come pick up the car. As I wait, my life (or at least the last 15 years) seems to flash before my eyes. I can feel the hundreds of trips between our home and the little Christian elementary school both kids attended. My daughter and I picked Curry up in this van. His favorite spot became the space between the driver and passenger seats where he regally held court as we went through many a drive through and he was lavished with doggie treats while the kids received candy or stickers. I see the road trips we took--traveling as far as Penticton, Canada for the Canadian Ironman and south to California for Christmas with dear friends.

My kids grew up in that car and I guess I probably did too. We considered saving it for our son to drive, but the thought of a teenage boy with all that space stirs up memories of my own youth and I shudder at the thought. We have considered selling the car for more than a year now. In the back of my mind, it seemed in many ways to be Curry’s car. He never liked sedans or smaller vehicles until he experienced the joy of my VW convertible. In later years he could not climb into taller cars and so we kind of kept the van around—just in case…

So, 'just in case' has come and gone. It is time to say good-bye. Good-bye to the van. Good-bye to an era. That car is full of amazing memories and I hope many more will be accumulated as I turn it over to its new owner—a mom with three small children. Her brother knocked on our door last night inquiring if we would like to sell it. Evidently his sister’s car (another Previa) had been totaled by a drunk driver and they have little money to spare. We had a family conference to decide if we would sell it for less than ½ the blue book value to a man who was potentially scamming us. My daughter put things in a way only a teenager can when she said, “Really…who would try to scam us for that piece of you know what!?!??!?” My thought was that even if it was a scam, the man appeared to be less fortunate than we and my hope is that the new/old car would somehow benefit him and his family. (Gee, that sounds more magnanimous than I really feel! ☺) It also feels like time to say good-bye. Time to do a little de-cluttering as Sunrise Sister has recently reminded us.

Well...the car may be gone and the street therefore a little less cluttered, but the memories will last a lifetime (especially since I decided to write a few of them down ☺.)

meeting liberty

It is a picture perfect fall day here in the Pacific Northwest. The sun is shining. The leaves are just starting to turn and the air has that wonderful little nip to it. Over the past several months I have turned into a “destination” walker which means I am usually on my way to an appointment or errand during my morning stroll. This morning it was a visit to the chiropractor. I realized as I walked that I have been avoiding my camera lately—ever since I requested and received Photoshop Elements for my birthday.

This morning, however, I decided to push past my hesitancy and take some photos with the hope of spending time immersed in learning at least how to crop and tune my photos up a bit. Alas, the camera rebelled and the battery died in the midst of the very first photo. So, I was left with only my photographic memory to capture the details of the day.

On my return home, I found myself walking through the park behind an older gentlemen and his golden retriever. I picked up the pace to catch up with them, because I cannot bypass the opportunity to receive a little “golden” love since the death of Curry. My selfish tendencies were in high gear and this was all about me getting what I needed this morning.

I politely asked if I could love on his dog for a minute and then felt like I had come face to face with the reincarnation of my old sweet guy. “He’s thirteen,” the owner announced. A lump in my throat, I confessed that we had just lost our 13-year-old golden. What ensued was a gentle and kind retelling of the last days and moments of Curry’s life. The owner asked me questions like “How did you know when it was time?” “Was it peaceful?” “Did he suffer?” Somewhere in the conversation, I realized that this moment was not just for me. Liberty’s (the dog) owner was entering his own process of letting go and had needed some reassurance that they would get through it. I am so grateful I was there to be that reassurance.

Much of this meeting reminds me of my recent post, “life cycles.” There was something in this encounter that spoke deeply of emptying and filling. I have not decided yet how the process transpired. Who was filled and who was emptied? Does it even matter? What I do know is that I followed my heart seeking what I needed in the moment to help me with my own grieving process and in the midst I met another person who had his own sorrow to share. Oddly, both of us walked away comforted. I will remember Liberty and his owner for quite some time. At first site Liberty appeared to be the ghost of Curry, but now I am pretty sure he was an angel. Dang, I wish I had my camera! ☺

what color do you need?

found this at kate i's place...interesting because i keep thinking i need to create a new quilt for my living room and purple continues to come up in the color scheme. hmmmmm...

You Need Some Purple in Your Life

Purple will make you feel ambitious, independent, and creative. And with a little purple, you will project an aura of individuality. If you want more extravagance, you've got to get a little purple in your life! For extra punch: Combine purple with green or orange The downside of purple: It can evoke sad feelings The consequences of more purple in your life: You will feel an increase in your artistic abilities You will find balance in the most chaotic parts of your life You will feel calm and will be hard to disturb

What Color Do You Need?

life cycles

I am home and something is stirring in me. I have been emptied this past week. I have poured myself out in an offering to others and I have allowed them to begin to fill me back up. It is a cycle of renewal. It is the beauty of birth-life-death and rebirth.

I never cease to be amazed at the touch of those I have chosen to surround myself with as well as the impact of strangers and others who have entered my life for only brief moments. This morning I read the post of a dear friend as she wove her experiences of grief, loss and life. I am reminded of my own losses. Some as profound as the loss of my beloved father when I was barely nineteen and the fast forward to losing my dear sweet, Curry. Other people and family members stir in my mind, but I am most profoundly struck this morning by the loss of people I knew for only a brief moment in time like the student who battled hard against me and then chose to walk away suddenly and silently. I still think of the man on the bus and another stranger in a small Oklahoma town who I knew for an hour and then we shared a prayer. Each touched me deeply by their presence and I can feel the loss of their absence along with the significant impact they made on my life.

Loss is indeed profound in our lives especially when we allow ourselves to acknowledge it and feel it. Feeling the loss leads to an emptying which then allows us to be filled with joy and other experiences of life. If we refuse to empty ourselves, the old stuff fills us to the brim and we find ourselves like an overstuffed turkey unable to move or a box filled to the brim just waiting to explode.

This past week, I unconsciously and deliberately chose to be emptied. And so I enter this day, this week, waiting to be filled. Not expecting anything. Just as I did not expect the beautiful filling I received when I read Christine’s post. There is something in accepting what we are offered each day. Not expecting grand results, but then looking back and seeing that we have been touched and filled (perhaps only a teaspoon full) simply because we allowed ourselves to really feel the emotion of a moment—perhaps our own or maybe that of another person.

Will you allow yourself to be impacted today? How will you empty yourself? What are the moments when you feel the inpouring of life? Consider grief. Consider joy. They each make room for the other ☺.

Blog Action Day

Poverty: the state of being inferior in quality or insufficient in amount.

Where do you experience poverty in your life? Do you listen closely to those around you? Do you feel that others listen to you? Do you go through life on autopilot, hurrying from one place to the next? Do you wonder what a blog action day about poverty has to do with you?

Consider this: When we are not fully present to the stories that surround us, we close off the possibility that there is something new to be heard or discovered. We close our minds and our hearts to the possibility that we have something in common with the child in Africa, the mother in Harlem, the Senator in Congress, the homeless man on the corner, our next door neighbor and even the person(s) who sleeps in our own warm house.

On this day of poverty awareness, I would like to pose that we experience a paucity of listening. How might our world be different if we fought the poverty against our own cold hearts of stone? What if we started listening more deeply today? How would the world change? How would you? If only for today, I hope you will choose to listen a little more closely to the world around you.

Peace.

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.

art making & prayer

Fall into the Mystery placed before you--
the one you will become will catch you.

--saying found in Lectio Divina

I awoke today with this collage beckoning to be created...or was it beckoning to create me? Either way, this was my morning prayer. It shall not soon leave me.

What if Love is IT?

In my recent post, I mentioned that I have not spent a lot of time in the scriptures of late. However, while reading “Lectio Divina” I find that I am drawn to read more from the Bible and I am really o.k. with it. (Shudder shudder…I hear as I imagine some of my readers thinking ‘ how could you NOT be ok with it?) I shall explain just a bit here ☺. For those of you who do not know me well or may be new to this site, I will mention that Christianity is the source of my introduction to God. What a statement?!?!? “The source of my introduction to God.” While I do not want to attempt a discourse on my religious path at this specific time, suffice it to say that having been brought up and then married into a predominantly “fundamental” environment and subsequently adopting a more “broad view” of life, I continue my personal journey of discovery and wrestling with what does it mean to love God?

So, where am I going with this? Pondering why I have stayed away from Scripture, I came to realize that the exclusionary voices of fire and brimstone are associated with the Bible of my past and really like to creep into the present! “If you don’t believe in Jesus you are going to hell! Jesus is the ONLY way! You must confess your sins or die!” These words speak of harsh judgment. Judgment breeds judgment. I get Jesus and I don’t. I get heaven and I don’t. I want rest and peace and love for the world. I believe that Jesus is love. So, what if that is true? What if Jesus and God and Buddha and fill in your own personal favorite are LOVE? Period. Love. That’s it. Wouldn’t that be enough to change the world? What if LOVE is the ONLY way?

If we could truly come from a place of love instead of fear, would it be enough to change the world? What if we bring ourselves and do our best each day. Accepting rather than expecting—not in a wishy-washy, no responsibility kind of way. What if we take responsibility for ourselves and call each other to a higher place in love—pure love, not fear-based love. Not the condemning, you have to do this or that or you’re going to hell kind of “love”. What if Jesus is love? Period. What if “the thing for which I was laid hold of by Christ Jesus” is love? That “thing” could change the world.

So, that’s where my heart is right now. It may sound simplistic or sacrilegious or like I have lost my mind, but I challenge you to give this a try: See what happens when you insert the word Love in place of “Christ & it.” What if LOVE is it?

“Not that I have already obtained it, or have already become perfect, but I press on in order that I may lay hold of that for which also I was laid hold of by Christ Jesus.” Philippians 3:12

lectio divina

As I begin to read the new book, Lectio Divina, I find that an air of familiarity surrounds me. “This is what I do,” my internal voice says. And then the ego side pipes up and says, “Oh you think you know everything. Don’t you see how that closes the door to possibility?” It is a wonder that I can even get past the first page as my inner dialogue carries on a full-blown conversation! And then I read the words “hold this lightly.” Ahhhh, I can feel a sense of peace come over me for a moment, and then I am reminded of the opposite of holding lightly. It is grasping.

Buddhism speaks of the grasping mind and how it keeps us from peace and serenity. When we grasp our desires strongly, there is a driven quality that arises. Anxiety, jealousy, rigidity and insecurity all become stronger. So, as I consider lectio divina (an ancient prayer form which translates as ‘holy reading’) I wonder how I can hold lightly to the structure. How can I keep myself free of the arrogant sense of knowing and therefore leave myself open to new possibilities? Paintner and Wynkoop speak of a flowing rhythm and I wonder how this translates into my current practice of prayer.

I read. Contemplate. Meditate. Act. It flows. I move. I listen. I find myself open to possibility. Open to hearing. Do I express my gratitude? Do I allow myself to sit with God—resting in holy presence? The piece that has been missing for me recently is Scripture. I have chosen to use other “texts”: music, nature, blogs, poetry and sacred readings. Do I attend them with holy listening? Am I open to what they say? I am formed and informed through the listening. I often do not remember details, but rather have an overall sense of what I have taken in. I have breathed the experience (the text) in and let it permeate my being.

I hear the voice of arrogance once again in my head. “You think you are so special.” Yikes! Hold lightly. Do not grasp. Be grateful. Thankful to be able to breathe in and out. It is a great paradox. Letting go so the words may come. Losing my life so I may find it. Letting go to receive. Stop moving so I can just be.

Do you have these battles of the mind? Does your ego strive to overcome your stillness? Where do you find yourself grasping? Where do you need to let go or show gratitude? What does your 'holy reading' look like?

collage by lucy

formation

“to be nobody but myself— in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make me somebody else— means to fight the hardest battle any human can fight, and never stop fighting.”

--e.e. cummings

I love to read. One of my favorite things to do is to light a candle, put on some gentle music, pour a hot cup of coffee and snuggle into my bed surrounded by my current pile of reading material. The challenge for me, however, comes as I switch back and forth between texts (with an intermittent stop at my favorite blog sites) and then try to remember where exactly was that brilliant point I want to incorporate into my musings.

Currently I am reading Trapped in the Mirror—Adult Children of Narcissists in their struggle for self and Life is a Verb by the delightful Patti Digh of 37 days. This morning I began Lectio Divina by my dear friend Christine Paintner of Abbey of the Arts and I recently finished The Wise Heart – A Guide to the Universal Teachings of Buddhist Psychology by Jack Kornfield. At first glance these texts might appear to be quite diverse in topic and indeed they are. However, my ponderings this morning brought out the common thread I see in these books.

Perhaps it is merely my perspective, but I see that all move toward the goal of greater life – fullness – connection with God – mental health – mindfulness – coming alive – fulfilling who we are meant to be. They all speak of formation and lead me to ask the following questions: How will I be formed? How am I being formed? What is my role in personal formation? Do I read for information? Do I write to be formed or to inform? Who or what do I seek?

When I allow myself to slow down, I realize that it is God I seek. The ultimate wholeness and completeness of the universe. When I experience God, I am home. I see the beauty of the stillness. I hear the still small voice - the words that seemingly come out of nowhere. The meaning that has no words – only experience. I know that I am here for a purpose even though I may not quite know what it is.

So I invite you to ponder along with me. How are you informed? Do you see patterns in your life that warrant exploration? Who or what do you seek in your daily life? In your readings? Your work or play? Do you choose to fight the battle to be yourself? Or do you allow others to make you into someone else?

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves.
--Rainer Maria Rilke

mama bear

This mom is crabby crabby crabby. A stark contrast to the peaceful stillness of only a few days ago. Surrounded by incompetence and teenage angst…not being able to decide whose is whose. The term “mama bear” keeps roiling around in her brain along with the gesture of throwing her arm across the passenger seat to protect her child in the event of a sudden stop. What is it about mother’s that sends their right arm flying into open position when they think their child is in danger? Do British mum’s fling open their left?


Still she ponders and wonders why the anger has arisen so sharply in the last week. Is it that she is surrounded by grownups battling their own demons and attempting to throw their anger into her lap? At work, they sit and smile, but she feels their seething undercurrent even while they say everything is “o.k.” At school, her youngest battles for autonomy while coming up against the man/boys they call role models. It is enough to make a parent’s blood boil. For sure it makes a mama bear growl!

Still she wonders if she is coddling or letting go too soon. The balance is a tough one. The teen has her own immature hijinx, but here she is called to be the “adult” as she plays the game of high school politics. Yuk! Mama bear wants to step in and give the offenders a big swat of her paw, but settles for a little art making and mental health break instead.

A trip to the masseuse ends with the recommendation of “Take it easy and watch movies all day” ☺. Advice heeded, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly continues the melancholy mood as she finds herself feeling stuck in her own diving bell. Mama bear is ready to hibernate. Like I said, this mom is crabby crabby crabby!

visual journal page by lucy 10.03.08

perfect stillness

How do you capture the stillness that is God? One step onto the gravel path reverberates like the clashing of cymbals. It is a cacophony of sound against the deep, dark nothingness that surrounds me. It is nothing and it is everything. I can feel God in the air that is neither wet nor humid nor dry. It does not feel heavy and yet I am immensely aware of the air. Not a breath of wind moves through it. Perfect absolute stillness. It is God.

I tiptoe through the wet grass not wanting to break this mood. It is reverent. Holy. The pool of light from my lamp leads the way. It is absorbed into the night leaving me inside a bubble of gentle illumination. It is perfect soft light. It is holy and for a moment so am I. But I am not alone. My light has disturbed a resting goose who startles and makes it known that he is not pleased by my presence. His honks and wings in flight carry through the stillness and across the water that continues to sleep. My heart races for a moment. The goose’s call quieting long before the thump thump thump of my pounding heart.

And then it returns. The stillness. The calm. God. I tiptoe across the wet grass. My own presence disturbing me. How odd it is. I want to be absorbed into the air; the moisture; the dewy grass. I am one with the night. It is a gift. It is perfect. It is God.

whimsical wednesday

found this blogthing over at small reflections. who are you?

You are the World

Completion, Good Reward.

The World is the final card of the Major Arcana, and as such represents saturnian energies, time, and completion.

The World card pictures a dancer in a Yoni (sometimes made of laurel leaves). The Yoni symbolizes the great Mother, the cervix through which everything is born, and also the doorway to the next life after death. It is indicative of a complete circle. Everything is finally coming together, successfully and at last. You will get that Ph.D. you've been working for years to complete, graduate at long last, marry after a long engagement, or finish that huge project. This card is not for little ends, but for big ones, important ones, ones that come with well earned cheers and acknowledgements. Your hard work, knowledge, wisdom, patience, etc, will absolutely pay-off; you've done everything right.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

hi

oh my, i am home and really want to post. alas, i have another day filled with student appointments, group and supervision hours followed by one or possibly two high school soccer games. the bus is coming in an hour and i am still in my p.j.'s so i better scoot. just wanted to say hi and hit the "publish" button before i moved forward with this day. reminding myself that...

"Life is not a path of coincidence, happenstance, and luck, but rather an unexplainable, meticulously charted course for one to touch the lives of others and make a difference in the world."

--Barbara Dillinham

are you a narcissist?

It is the beginning of a new term at school and once again the topic of blogging has surfaced. I am part of a small group of instructors who works with students to assist their training to become counselors, pastors and hopefully more aware human beings. Words like “narcissistic” and “attention-seeking” get tossed around along with statements of “I just don’t get it.” “It” being the blogging culture and the narcissists being the blog writers.

Hmmmm. Are you talking about me? I wonder. It is a confusing time as I well know there are people who blog about their personal lives in infinite detail and enter into many a ‘conversation’ without aforethought to crossing personal boundaries. Still, I sit back and listen to my peers—some old, some new—discuss this topic that is heartfelt to me. One newcomer tiptoes into the dialogue stating that their spouse does a bit of blogging about their family—principally posting new pictures of their child and momentous occasions such as graduation. Another suggests possibly putting controls onto that blog so that only invited guests can see what has been posted.

I have heard this conversation before. It is a recurring theme and an important one to consider. I stay silent for this one. A trusted colleague who knows my heart (& my blog) smiles at me from across the room. I cannot imagine limiting who can or cannot read what I choose to post. I think of all of the life and connection I would have missed had I not chosen to “go public” and open myself up to the world around me. Neither can I imagine posting about details of my life which I consider too intimate or mundane to be spread across the blogosphere.

I consider what it would be like for a student to see that my dog has died or that I am having a bad day or a good one. For them to consider that I have struggles and joys. That I am married and have children and go on road trips alone. What if they found out that I am (yikes) HUMAN? Oh my, would that be the end of our professional relationship? I wonder about all of this because we are asking students to be more authentic and be in touch with who they are and what brings them alive. How can we ask them to do something we are not willing to do ourselves? Somehow I see my most authentic self coming out on these pages. Still I do not hand out my website or make a big deal about this space and my alter ego gets all of the credit ☺, but if someone were to run across this page by accident…I wonder…

out of the mouths of babes

This smile was just too good to pass up! found at L Squared:

"mesa is new to the brace-face look...she wasn't too happy when she had to get "grills" last month and is still adjusting. on sunday, after taking communion at church, she leaned over and whispered to me "mom...jesus just got stuck in my braces." try staying reverent at that moment."

wishing wishing...

...wishing i had more time to write. more time to reply to wonderful comments. more space to read all of the wonderful posts i know are out there. alas, i cannot manufacture more time or space before i depart shortly for another magical week at soltura.

wishing you your own glorious, magical week! i leave you with this thought:

Each of us literally chooses,
by his way of attending to things,
what sort of universe
he shall appear to himself to inhabit.

--William James

What sort of universe do you wish to inhabit?

6 unspectacular things about me

i am very tired and brain dead so this meme from patty seemed totally appropriate for tonight. here are six unspectacular things about me (granted i actually think everything is kind of spectacular in its own way so this was harder than one might think...wink...wink).

1. i have a bachelor's degree in accounting.

2. i grew up in bethany, oklahoma.

3. i love to be in bed by 8:00 p.m. or at least in my p.j.s by then.

4. i prefer popcorn & tortilla chips over chocolate.

5. i am the youngest of 3 children from a middle class family.

6. vanilla milkshakes win out over chocolate every time.

my low energy level (& my rebellious nature) keep me from tagging the requisite six bloggers, so you're on your own to decide if you want to play. please let me know if you do!! thanks for the fun, patty!

photo found here at flickr

You Are the Guru

You are a naturally good counselor. You are inspiring, encouraging, and compassionate. You are eager to help everyone who crosses your path, even those who don't want to be helped. You are a natural healer. People feel at peace when they are with you. You are so good for people, in fact, that they go through withdrawal once you're gone. You quietly do your own thing, without openly resisting. You secretly try to fix every problem. Your biggest regret is not being able to help as many people as you'd like.

What Role Do You Play?

to be known...

One of my biggest hopes AND greatest fears is that I will truly be known by another. It seems that at times people I have known almost my whole life look at me and say, "Who the heck are you ?!?!??!???" Or worse yet, they don't even bother to ask the question. Then there is this crazy world of blogging where 'virtual' friends speak to me as if we were cloned from the same DNA even though we have never set eyes on each other. It is like they are mystics who can read my mind and feel my emotions while they are happening to me. Most special of all, however, are the times when someone you have known for awhile (maybe not even a long while), someone you know "in person" lets you know that they have been paying attention. That they get you. That you have made their world a little brighter even though they have seen you warts and all.

This past week I was blessed with such an honor as friends joined together to help me celebrate my birthday. At the risk of tooting my own horn or Never #4 "boasting of my own accomplishments" (even though I'm not sure being born is considered an accomplishment), I wanted to share the tender words sent to me by a very precious woman.

9.11.08 "On this most blessed of days not too many years ago, a beautiful baby was brought into this world. No one really knew what her path would be, especially this child who had many 'parents' in her Mom & Dad as well as her much older siblings, to guide her path with right & wrong, good enough or not, proper life path, direction, whew! Enough to wear a kid out!

But inside this shiny star, her truth waited for her, patiently. And this girl, young woman, woman, grew & grew and even when she smiled and followed a path not of her choosing, something inside simmered and waited. Through rocky paths and broken promises and choices that hurt her heart. Through the trials and thrills of children, the joy and frustration of marriage, she bravely marched. And inside, still, something asking questions, something waiting to burst forth. And to her great surprise, through the toughest period of her life, the path of destruction and resurrection of her son, came IT. A path that was created and worked on and walked by herself, Lucy, and no matter the hurdles thrown up, inside or outside, She knew, finally and forever, that she is of great value to this world, and what she offers and puts forth is pure and lovely.

And she is loved by her friends and the people whose lives she touches every day. And that feeling in her gut? Well, that's a belly laugh that is full of hope and very contagious! And she spreads that feeling with her heart and her voice and her eyes.

That is my birthday story of Lucy, and I'm stickin to it! I wish for you a day of belly laughs, surprises and knowing that you are loved, by many, including me. :) signed by "Precious"

mixed media collage by lucy

racing the garbage

Yesterday I had a wonderful little “encounter” that I can’t seem to get out of my head and want to share here. I was on my way to work. It was a beautiful sunny morning made all the more delicious because of the gift it is! (At this time of year in Seattle you never know when the sun will disappear and the rain will set in.) Taking full advantage, I hopped on my scooter and headed down the four-lane road. Due to traffic and the not-so-timed lights I found myself stopping and starting quite a bit along with the other cars and in particular a giant garbage truck to my left.

Now imagine this…a little scooter next to a giant smelly garbage truck. Now close your eyes and take a big whiff. Can you smell it? Nice, huh? So, what do you think my instinct was? To get away from the garbage, of course! And so we played this cat and mouse game for a couple of stoplights until I found myself giggling to realize the imagery (& reality) that I was 'racing the garbage.'

Oh, what a metaphor for life!!! Isn’t that what we do all of the time? Race around trying to get away from the garbage!! Sometimes we feel as tiny as a scooter next to a mammoth pile of you-know-what and we go to great lengths to get away from it rather than consider “smelling” things in a new way. And my giggles? Well, I decided to enjoy the sunshine and laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation rather than putting myself in harms way or letting the “smell” ruin my day. I am still chuckling and I have an amazing collage brewing in my mind ☺. hee hee hee.

So, what garbage are you racing today? How will you choose to smell it? Plug your nose? Inhale deeply? Laugh?

I hope you have a grand week. I will be off doing my Soltura thing. I have a couple of posts that will pop up over the next few days, so please stop by. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to respond to comments until I am back, but I will be reading them so please say “hi!”

what are your "nevers"?

“My hands hold safely to my dreams
Clutching tightly not one has fallen
So many years I've shaped each one
Reflecting my heart showing who I am”

--Barlow Girl “Surrender”

Yesterday I wrote about being alive and inside that post were many questions about what holds me back. This morning as I awakened really early I could feel the promptings of the still small voice. I lay in bed with images of art and activities pouring through my mind. Finally I surrendered to the morning and got out of my cozy bed even though it was still pitch dark outside. I gathered my journal and tiptoed downstairs so as not to wake my sleeping husband and then I began to write. The lists of the day tumbled onto the paper mixed in with all of those questions of why I hold back when it comes to art—to MY art.

I have great plans. I have books to help me, supplies to use, ideas in abundance, but still I wait. “It will be a waste of time.. money…effort.” And then there is the flip side of the story. I am impatient. I want to hurry the process…to get to the end result and not let the art create me. Yikes! Sometimes I feel like such a mess!!

And so, I wrote and wrestled and this little voice kept saying, “Go paste the page onto the board.” (Several weeks ago I bought new supplies for creating and have tentatively been considering working with them. The board has been painted in a couple of colors and a few days ago I started considering adding text.) In the midst of all of my wrestling was another train of thought to “practice saying yes”--a theme I have been enjoying in Patti Digh’s new book. So, even while I am writing about “saying yes” I am ignoring the prompts to “paste the text on the board”. I am saying “no” to my art—again! And then God in all of her creative graciousness prompted me a little more directly—my pen ran out of ink—my last words being, “Go paste the page…” ☺

Now God gets even pushier here. I went to the book that I have designated as my “practice” pages (i.e. I can tear it up with great abandon.) It is a really heady book (not), called “The Devil in the Junior League.” ☺ I recalled it contained a few lists and since lists seem to be a theme for me these days I hopped right on it. Not paying much regard to the list content, I tore out a page and then pared it down to a manageable size and began to apply acrylic medium. When I flipped it over to paste the back, this is what I found:

“Unwilling to share any of that, I launched into the points that my mother and the charming women at Little Miss Debutante had drummed into my head, otherwise known as the Four Nevers:

1. Never dominate a conversation.
2. Never speak in a voice that can be heard more than three feet away.
3. Never do anything that anyone would notice if they were more than three feet away.
4. Never boast of your accomplishments.”

It might as well have included one more that said, “NEVER MAKE ART!” It was like all of the voices of my past (and evidently present) were rolled into one and printed on that page that I had chosen “by accident.” And so, after a few deep breaths, a couple of tears and a good laugh with God, I tiptoed back upstairs to get my computer so I could record this little encounter (and capture the words of “the page”, because you never know what may happen next with that little piece of art.)

And, the promptings did not end there, of course!! My computer screensaver is a nifty little thing that randomly displays album covers from my i-tunes list. I noticed a cover by Barlow Girl and wondered what music she sings. (I have lots of music given to me and rarely do I remember artists or song titles unlike my dear husband who can recall every song he has heard since 1960 ☺.) So, I found Barlow Girl’s one song I own and it, of course, is titled “Surrender.” Need I say more?

I would love to hear your response to my morning’s events or even better your own encounters and wrestlings with the inner critic, God, art, whatever! Or maybe you would like to share your personal “Four Nevers?” I hope you will say, "Yes!"

photos from pere lachaise cemetary--paris, 2.08

be alive!

“Being alive is the special occasion.” --Patti Digh

What does it take for us to believe that being alive is the special occasion? That each day is a gift—each moment? That I am special? That my wrinkles have been earned? My body has been well worn? That I am fortunate to be getting out of bed each day—aches, pains and all?

So, what gets in my way? Mind chatter. Laziness. Ego. Outside and inside messages. I let it happen. I let another’s attitude dampen my day. I allow too little sleep to make me tired and cranky. I buy in to the voices in my head that I often don’t even hear speaking.

Why don’t I put myself out there? What keeps me from creating? From stepping into the process? Lots of the time I won’t allow myself to enjoy the process of art making. I jump to focusing on the end result. It won’t be valued. What will I do with it? There’s no room to store it. It’s a waste of time…resources…money…blah blah blah.

Forget about the end result! It is a process. Just like life. Just like my blogs. When I focus on "productivity," I make my own destiny, because I worry about the end results. Again, what will others think? And so I don’t even put anything out there and then of course readers quit stopping by. I quit creating and the world—the universe—one person even has lost the opportunity…And, there I go again jumping to the outcome. I don’t know what happens when I don’t create.

Do I know what happens when I do create? I am learning I really don’t KNOW much of anything. Wonder if I can be o.k. with that? Will I allow myself to go with the process rather than focusing on the end result (which I can't determine anyway)!?!??!? I sure hope so, because one thing I do know is that being alive is the special occasion!

Now go on, get out there and be alive!!!

birthday gratitude!!!!

Oh my goodness. What a day!!! With 20 minutes left in what will be September 11, 2008, I am just blown away. It has been an amazing day! No offense, but even without all of the fabulous birthday wishes, phone calls, e-mails, gifts, COMMENTS !! etc. it still would have been an amazing day.

The sun was shining in its perfect Seattle 70 plus degree way, just calling for the convertible top to be down. A friend visited without knowing it was my birthday. We had overnight company, great conversation, etc. regardless that it was Sept. 11. I love my life!! I love that I know who I am. I love my family—all of them—frustrating as they can be!! Just a minute ago, my husband looked at me and said, “You have good friends.” No doubt about that!

I have friends who sent me text messages at 5:45 a.m. Friends who begged to be first in wishing me happy birthday. People who sang when they really cannot sing—and it was lovely!!! Gifts arrived in the mail. Breakfast was shared with a soul sister. “Guys” sent me flowers and brought me wine. Cards. Gifts. Messages. Oh my goodness. Ask and you shall receive. Thank you thank You thank you!!! I don’t know what else to say, except that I feel extremely blessed and not an ounce of sadness resonates that I am a year older.

Who could ask for anything more?

Happy Birthday to Me!!

Please help me celebrate by simply leaving a "happy birthday" in the comment box. My dream for the day is that everyone who stops by here today will say hello. Whaddya think readers? Go ahead, make my day!!!

hijacked

“It’s as if the whole world hijacked Sammy’s special day. And believe me, as his father? That really pisses me off.” --Peggy Sarjeant

So, here I sit on the eve of 9-11, as it has come to be called, and consider what one does when their birthday has been “hijacked”. What do you do when the date of your birth is associated with pain and mourning for the country…for the whole world even? When celebrating seems like heresy? When people hear your birth date and groan? When they say, “Oh, I could never forget that birthday” and then they do.

My friend & talented writer, Peggy, wrote a very poignant story a few years ago about Sammy—a 7 year old who doesn’t understand why he can’t have cupcakes at school on his birthday of September 11. It is a story to which I can totally relate, because if you haven’t figured it out…my birthday is 9-11 ☺.

I struggle a little with what to write here. The therapist in me has lots of deep analysis of what this all means. The magical thinking of a child and my own personal ego kick into play and say the Twin Towers crashed because of me. Yikes! Do other people’s minds go off in crazy directions like that? Add to this the fact that my father died in a truck accident the day after my 19th birthday and you have a whole lot of crashing going on around my special day. So, it’s no wonder I have some pretty strong feelings surrounding these days! (Fortunately I have amazing support & years of therapy under my belt or I could really be “off to the races” on this one! ☺)

There is so much “stuff” that surrounds our birthdays anyway. People seem to either love birthdays, hate them or pretend that they do neither. If you really think about it, however, doesn’t the kid in each of us really appreciate a little celebration? A little recognition? (And, in case, you are shaking your head and saying, “Nope. Not me.” The therapist in me would challenge you to ask yourself why you feel that way ☺. What kind of “stuff” surrounds your birthday?) So, why do I write this post? It is not for a pity party, because I don’t feel pitiful. Maybe it is just my own way to say, “Happy Birthday” to myself and to even agree with Sammy’s dad that yeah, even though the Twin Towers did not crash to punish me, it “really pisses me off” that they had to crash at all, much less on MY day!

9-11 is a day of notoriety and in my own sweet selfish Lucy way, I want it to be all about me. However, the more compassionate and thoughtful Me commiserates with our country and grieves the tragedy that this day remembers. (The Painted Painted Prayerbook had a thoughtful post earlier this week which you might enjoy.)

I am very blessed to have a wonderful group of supportive friends who have chosen to celebrate 9-11 a couple of ways. They have set the goal of each home and business displaying a flag tomorrow to represent unity. In addition, they have committed to light a birthday candle for yours truly. I hope you will consider doing the same. I plan to ☺.

p.s. I hope you will come back tomorrow and wish me a real "Happy Birthday"!

Off to the Races

Fall has always been more a time of new beginning for me than January 1. Maybe it is because so much of my life has revolved around the school year—first my own, then my children’s & now my own again as I return to my work at a graduate school. Today I woke up early with my mind racing and so much to consider. I really hate that feeling. I have schedules to make. Meetings to attend. Will yoga class help or squeeze my time too much today? Should I get up or have a little more needed rest? But my mind races.

I have a new schedule. Two groups of students to meet with individually (17 in all—double what I have done in the past). My birthday is this week. What shall I do for that? I have two workshops in the next two weeks. There are two soccer teams to put on my calendar. The high school calendar arrived yesterday with more dates to fill. My husband is confirming his “away” dates. My daughter has a complicated schedule that I often need to be involved in. I still miss my dog.

Time seems to be filling up. Precious time. Precious space that I cherish. And I cherish the moments that I spend doing the things I love. Being with friends. Being with family. Being with students. All good stuff, you know? I am someone who cherishes solitude AND I am energized by my work. I consider myself a balanced person. I find myself irritated with people who say, “I don’t have time for…solitude, writing, play, you fill in the blank.” And here I sit with my heart pounding and my mind racing because my list is so full.

And then I have to smile, because God is so great. I opened up my morning devotional and today’s title was “Too Full”. Hmmm. Sounds like I’m not alone ☺. And that really irritates me, because today I don’t want to be the cliché. I don’t want to be like everybody else. I don’t want to be ‘too full’ of stuff! I want my nice little serene existence. Ha!

This definitely feels like a season. It all comes back to me now. It is the beginning of the school year with checks to write and calendars to coordinate. It is a new beginning and I love new beginnings. So, for now I think I will breathe deeply, make a list of things that must be done. Attempt to enjoy this season rather than just get through it. I am grateful. I am grateful for so much and even if I find just 10 minutes for solitude today, it will be enough. I will be enough. Amen.

This is why I love writing…I have just talked myself down from the ledge and remembered all of those little spaces of quiet and serenity I have reserved for myself (even if they only exist in my mind). I have remembered to be grateful. I have found a little place to stop the ‘racing.’ Now if I can just keep my mind from firing the starter gun again! ☺

tidbits for the road...and life

Today's thoughts from Hazelden are:

Formula for failure: trying to please everyone.

*****

The elevator is broken; use the steps.

*****

You are the problem, but you are also the solution.

*****

Reason to be grateful #863: you learn to wake up instead of coming to.

*****

Improve your memory -- tell the truth.

*****

Numb is dumb; feel to heal.

You are reading from the book:

Keep Coming Back Gift Book by Meiji Stewart

worth the risk?

“Explore and expand your capacity for love and forgiveness. Love people who are unlovable. As G.K. Chesterton said, “love means to love that which is unlovable, or it is no virtue at all.” Who in your life is unlovable? What would loving them look like? How would it change you?” --Patti Digh

I just finished reading David Sheff’s remarkable book, “beautiful boy.” I hesitated for many months before reading this book, because I did not know if I could stomach it. If I could survive it. If I could relive it. But alas it kept popping into my consciousness and finally someone handed me the book and said, “it’s o.k. to read.” (I was also inspired by Sunrise Sister’s thoughtful book review here.)

You see the book is my story. It is my son’s story although the names have been changed as well as the drugs…well some of them anyway. It is a remarkable book. At times I felt like I was inside the pages. In fact, I had been inside the pages. Again, the places had been changed but the memories and emotions were the same. And as I read the quote above from Patti Digh’s 37 Days, I thought of my son and how many people deemed him along the way “unlovable.” I think of the judgment that has come our way. Of the many people that said “I would have given up on him long before now. How do you do it?”

And, today I think of the amazing gift that my son has given me. Because, yes, he is my flesh and blood and that alone (at least for a mother, I think) makes him lovable, but for many years and many moments he presented himself to the world as unlovable. And so I return to Patti’s questions: “What would loving them (the unlovable) look like?” “How would it change you?” and I return to my response: It is an amazing gift. It is worth the risk to love.

I am in no way the same person I was that gave birth to my own beautiful boy just over 19 years ago. I am not even the same person who bought him a puppy on his first day of grade school or the one who home-schooled him when he was 12. I am not even the same person who woke up this morning. Because, you see, my son, “the unlovable”, shook me out of my complacency. He taught me about pain and anger, about hatred and forgiveness, about fear and love.

He sent me on a path (unknowingly) toward wholeness. Loving him looks like a miracle. It looks like new breath…new life. It has changed me profoundly and taught me how to love the unlovable, beginning with myself.

I returned to school at nearly 50 years of age to pursue a career totally opposed to my ‘prior life’. (This kind of change was something I never dreamed I would do while I was “sleeping.”) I latched onto a verse. “Love God and love your neighbor as yourself.” I learned that I had to start with myself and that God would be alongside me in ways I never could have conceived. Before I could love my neighbor or my son or the unlovable, I had to learn to love myself. And so for me, “loving the unlovable” began a circular journey back towards myself and toward the 'unlovable.' And, the circle grows larger and larger every day.

And so, today I thank my own beautiful boy. I honor him and love him and am so grateful that I never gave up on either one of us.

So, I pose to you Patti’s questions: "What would it look like to love the unlovable? How would it change you?" Would you be willing to find out?

Not today...

"It's very helpful to realize that the emotions we have, the negativity and the positivity, are exactly what we need to be fully human, fully awake, fully alive." Pema Chodron

Oh man, the river of emotions that has been running through me over the last few days! I had hoped today to write more generically about “the river” as it is something so universal and intriguing to me. I see this river everywhere in people I meet and pass on the streets. It is a great topic and one I will return to...But not today.

Arising in the morning I look out the door to see if Curry slept outside. I walk into the house at the end of the day expecting to be greeted. I look in the backyard over the fence and hope to see that slobbery smile. I miss my old yellow dog. It is too much AND it is not.

I know it was time, I tell myself. The house will stay cleaner now ☺. I have slowly started to put away his things: bowls and medicine moved downstairs, but not totally disposed. I will remove a rug today that we used to keep him from slipping on the hard wood floors. My husband cannot bring himself to scoop the last bits of poop in the yard. A bag sits stuffed in the Adirondack chair—waiting. “I don’t want to do it,” he says. It is not the complaining, “I don’t wanna,” but one filled with sadness that this will be the last time.

So, no more poop scooping, no more balls of fur throughout the house, no more slobber on the walls. When will I clean the kitchen door? The brown smudge where Curry used his nose to push it open and let himself in? Not today. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe after I have looked for him on the rug or after I have noticed he is not on the back porch and my heart has stopped a little because I know he won’t be there. It all happens in less than a second, I think, maybe a couple of seconds, but the memory, the routine, the pattern of our life is still there.

Oh, it is too much AND of course, it is not. I will go on living. Maybe some day I will allow another furry creature to enter my heart, but not today. Today I will allow myself to feel all of the feelings. I will go about my routine. I will send my daughter off to her first day of 10th grade. I will enjoy the sunshine that is here. I will take my walk and go to my dance class. I will dance for Curry and for me.

I know he will slowly start to take up less space in my thoughts. Less space on this blog. But not today.

p.s. The “river of feelings” started flowing today as I read sweet Riley’s post and the subsequent comment by Geezer Dude. So, check it out if you so desire ☺.

a sad farewell

CURRY
July 6, 1995 - August 31, 2008

Curry. A big gentle soul. Has left this world as we know it. He is gone. Dead. Asleep. What do you even call it? I don't know what to do with myself. Wandering. Unable to settle down or think of anything except him. It has been a good day. A sad day. He went peacefully. I feel numb. Curry. Beautiful old dog. I already miss you so much my heart is breaking.

A gentle kind doctor gave him the injection a few minutes before 7:00 p.m. My best friend was gone in less than a minute--less than 30 seconds even. Quick & peaceful. Bill, Janey and I all petting him and holding him until the last breath. He was ready to go.

Time to go and now he is gone. No more to lie beside my bed. To greet me when I return home. To miss me when I am gone. It is my turn to miss him, but he will not return. We have said our final farewells. He is at peace. I believe that. I see him running & romping through fields of green. Sniffing & smelling. Whole & pure. His legs healthy & strong. Bounding across the open space. Snow. Water. Chasing geese and taking flight. The smile is on his face, tail fully wagging...not the meager thump thump of recent days.

Brave until the end. Making it up a full flight of stairs as little as a week ago. Coming to sleep beside me. Not knowing what to do with his aging body that responded in unfamiliar ways or responded not at all. His appetite was good until the end although I did not buy more dog food this week even though he was almost out. I knew. We all knew. He knew the time was here.

Dog is God spelled backwards. How do you say good-bye to someone who has shown you the face of God--been the face of God--on a daily basis for 13 years? Faithful. Non-judgmental. Always glad to see me. Protecting & guarding me. Loving me. Playing with me. Sharing hours of joy as we walked miles and miles together. Digging in the garden. Watching movies. Bounding through the snow. Taking road trips and raising kids. Putting up with costumes & baby strollers. Show 'n tell at school.

A puppy your whole life. Always the greeting committee. Always the well-mannered gentleman. Always the love. I will miss you, old man. Yellow dog. Best old boy. Curry dog. You have been beside me through thick and thin. Waiting through long dark nights. Laughing in the best of times. Faithful always. The most consistent presence in the last 13 years.

I love you, Curry. I will miss you forever.

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.

consider this...

To assume what other people are thinking or feeling without asking them is to invite misunderstanding. Just as disastrous is to assume other people know what we want or need without our telling them. Many potentially good friendships and marriages perish because of our false assumptions and our lack of honest communication.

Do we assume others can't live without us or wouldn't know what to think or feel unless we told them? Do we take for granted that "silence means assent"? Do we assume others don't have time for us, or don't care about us, if they don't call or go out of their way to talk to us? Do we think others can read our minds without our ever opening our mouths?

Since we can only assume the same limited or distorted thoughts of others that we have of ourselves, we each need to take the initiative to ask probing questions and give honest responses in our relationships.

TODAY I will not make the mistake of projecting my feelings onto others. I will initiate honest and open communication.

You are reading from the book:

The Reflecting Pond by Liane Cordes