Charlie Brown Christmas Tree Syndrome

Last night, I realized that my daughter suffers from “Charlie Brown Christmas Tree Syndrome”. I recognized the symptoms, because I too, am afflicted. It runs in my family. My brother even waits to buy his tree until only the undesirable trees are left, ensuring that he gets a Charlie Brown Christmas Tree. Although there are many variations, behavior usually includes feeling an overwhelming urge to buy the most pathetic tree on the Christmas tree lot and saving it from the unfathomable fate of not being selected by a family to spend the holiday in their home.

I noticed symptoms of the disease as we entered the Christmas tree lot, and she went directly to the back, scanning the lonely Douglas Firs, since everyone else favored the Frasiers. She selected a tree that looked like something had eaten a large hole in one side of it, causing it to lean mostly to the left. I immediately fell in love with it too, knowing that the defective side would become familiar with our living room wall. My husband, who is not afflicted with this disease, approached us with a disapproving look. “Why are you back here when all the Frasiers are in the front?” he asked, puzzled. Then the shocked look appeared on his face, “THAT TREE?!” he practically screamed. I knew we were in for trouble.

After much compromising, we selected a perfect looking Frasier and headed to the wrapping station. My daughter, already in the car, was crying over the tree no one would choose. As I walked toward her, I noticed three other children, obviously afflicted, crying in their mothers’ arms. We all exchanged understanding looks.

Consoling my daughter, I spoke about how it’s okay to like something that is beautiful and perfect, and how I was sure someone else would take her selected tree home. Our dogs, last chance misfits rescued from the pound, crowded her as we arrived home, sensing her sadness. She went to her room, thinking about this new tree. Later, she appeared with a tag, the name DAVE printed on it, and she attached it to the tree. She announced that the tree’s name was now Dave and she had decided that she liked him. I thanked her for understanding and she went to bed.

This morning she ran to me, beaming with delight, announcing, “Mom, did you notice that Dave has a big brown spot on his back, if we didn’t choose him by accident, no one else would have bought him. Mom, I LOVE DAVE!!!!!” I smiled, trusting that all works out as it should, especially this time of the year.

Counted Thoughts

Yesterday, I was in line for the checkout in a craft store. The woman in front of me had her hands full with supplies of small jewels, tiny braided tassels, and different colors of felt. She showed the clerk what she was making - beautiful holiday cards with detailed pictures made from the types of materials she was buying. There were cards with Christmas trees on them (each tree was decorated with intricate detail), holiday scenes around a fireplace, presents with different wrappings around them - all were gorgeous and very well made. It must have taken an hour to make each card, and she had over 20 of them. I, of course, assumed she was going to sell them (why else do it?), when she said to the other woman, "Do you think my friends will like them? I think they will."

I stood there for a moment, trying to figure it out. Here was a woman willing to spend an hour to make a card for each of her friends, just for the love of giving to them. Would I be willing to make such an effort for a gesture this size? I figured since I was wondering about it, the answer would probably be "no". Then I wondered about her friends - would they know the effort she took to make each card? Would they appreciate it, or would they just glance at it and put it in the trash? What would I do if I received one? I would probably keep it all year long, hanging on my bulletin board, marveling at the thoughtfulness of someone else.

This incident reminded me of what I think the holidays are all about. Taking the time to show someone how much you mean to them when the rest of the world and year is so crazy the time just isn't taken. So when you receive my store bought card this year, please remember that I thought about making you a beautifully constructed card, and after all, isn't it the thought that counts?

Infinite Access

It has come to my attention that accessing the infinite can be quite challenging, distressing, confusing. Once I realized that there is no limit to my abilities, I became instantly stuck in my perceived limitations. It’s where comfort sleeps quietly, the complicity of life, softly breathing, relaxing, not prodding you to grow. Why is it so much easier to just conform, settle, encompassed in laziness? I think that’s where group dynamics plays its role – the constant jostling of ideas, energy, and evaluation, pushing us forward or to the side, but there is no standing still. Perhaps because as one in a vacuum, we do not relate to the differences within us, we only agree with our knowingness, asking for no reply.

Handrails

It was truly an amazing moment. We sat there, spellbound, our circle surrounding her as she spoke of her delicate heart, shattered, hoping for release. Holding our breath, wanting to cradle her in our understanding, we remained quiet. We knew the power of our support and did not want to smother her. As she completed her story, we asked questions, confirming our interest, our ties to her. Then we slowly withdrew, awaiting her reaction. She smiled, a few pieces of her heart taped back together, gratitude gleaming in her eyes. I knew we’d see her again, as her journey has begun, the trek into self-awareness can be treacherous, we’ll be her handrails.

Blue Candle Vise Grip

Think of it as a blue candle. Imagine if you will, living in an alternative culture where blue candles have a stigma associated with them. These blue candles are not illegal, mind you, but some people think that owning them is immoral or unethical, even though countless millions of these candles are sold in the U.S. each year.

So there I was at a casual lunch with a new acquaintance, and potential client, when she launches into the atrocities of blue candle ownership. How should I react? After all, I once bought a blue candle (it’s still in my closet), and I know many others who have, as well. I think that people who want to make blue candle ownership illegal have closed minds and have never been presented with life circumstances in which burning a blue candle may be an option. It’s not that I am pro-blue-candle-ownership, or that I am against it, but when something is not illegal and can be used with discernment, I don’t see how I can define others by the ownership of it.

What reaction is justified to this type of blatant opinion? Unknowing what to do, I just said, “That’s an interesting viewpoint,” and changed the subject. I thought about it the rest of the day. Had I been among friends, or this interaction not being financially motivated, I would have responded with my usual devil’s advocate reply. So is that how I define myself? Compromising my normal behavior because money was involved? How often do I act like this? Or was it even more sinister – not wanting to cause friction, afraid of being unpopular? I like to rationalize it, thinking that it just wasn’t the time or place to try to convince someone to loosen the vise grip on their closed mind. But was that really what was happening? What other blue candle opinions do I hold and release in my life?

I'm Busy!!!!!

"Oh, I've been busy," I said casually, as if that explained my behavior, and as if in this one phrase she would receive complete understanding and have no further questions. However, I knew that in truth, it wasn't so much I was busy (even though my perception is that I was) it is more that I chose different priorities than the ones associated with her. I knew by saying this she knew what I meant because like me, she uses the phrase quite liberally, too. What is this word "busy" and why are we consumed, bombarded, and fatigued by it? Is it that we over-schedule ourselves with so much to do so that we don't have to think about what isn't getting done?

Mainstream Dreams

She and I decided we were the tributaries.

Existing on the outer rim of the mainstream.

Watching the river of conformity roll past us, commenting on the masses.

Wanting to be a part, yearning to be accepted, but yet not wanting this at the same time.

Acknowledged for our quirks, but not ridiculed for being different.

We stood there for a few moments, soaking wet in our perspective.

Realization emerged that in order to divert the path of the mainstream, we must first get our feet wet.

Breaking Reality

“But I read your blog,” she said, her eyes full of concern.
“I’m okay,” I assured her.
“You sounded so sad, I had to call to cheer you up and to check on you, will you be alright?”
I laughed, she truly did not understand me.

Why is it that we place so much pressure on ourselves to be happy, content, fulfilled, all the time? We will have those days when the covers cannot be pulled away from our heads, our pajamas cling to our bodies, and our minds (and mouths) are stuffed with pistachio ice cream. It’s okay. It’s called down-time, and most of us suffer from an extreme lack of it.

Can we not rest while taking on the world? Even God rested on the 7th day, so let’s be a little reasonable with ourselves.

For me, it is more about mental rest than physical rest. My thoughts are continually in a hamster wheel, spinning in a hundred directions, soaking in the possibilities of life. Some days I just need to feel sad, take a break, long for something different, be dissatisfied with my life creation, and sulk.

It passes, and I know that, so I just let it settle into my bones, making a temporary home until the break is over.

When break time is up, I clean up behind myself, catching up on life, and get back to my work of living.

Let Go, I Scream!

Why is letting go of control the easiest and hardest thing to do?

Repeatedly I hear the phrase "Let Go and Let God."

Must it be my eternal plight to learn to let go of control, that I am not the only entity who may benefit my own life?

The millisecond that I forcefully release whatever I have fooled myself into thinking that I am controlling, I feel the lift, the breath, the confidence that everything is going to work out best. I then sigh for a moment, relish in the relaxation and then start trying to figure out how God is going to get this done for me. What system will be used? How will the process emerge? What steps will be taken to solve this challenge of mine? I instantly move from trying to control the problem to trying to figure out how to control the process of solving the problem.

Let Go! Let Go! Let Go! I silently scream. But, I have found that in reality, the only thing that really works in letting go is an unexpected view of beauty, a quick laugh, a good memory. For that moment I am instantly elevated to a higher realm, a better existance, a hopeful me.

The only reliable way that can happen is to remove myself from the current environment so one of these instances can occur.

The Anger Escaped

My lips deceived me with a smile.

I wanted to stay angry because angry was where I wished to be, but my heart just wasn’t in it.

The anger had escaped me so quickly I could almost hear the whoosh as it left my being.

I find it is more and more difficult for me to stay angry about anything or toward anyone for long, any more. There was once a time, actually quite an expanse of time, when the anger would burn out the brown in my eyes, turning them to dark coals smoldering. It would absorb me, become one with me, as I embodied it. In those moments, I felt thoroughly justified in whatever thoughts were verbally flung from my mouth. There was no bending – everything black/white, yes/no, and absolutely no room for interpretation.

I am so very grateful that those moments now escape me.

It’s not that I do not get angry, it’s more of creating a suspension in time. Moments pass between the incident and my reaction. It gives me time to breathe, to consider, to decide how I would like to react to the event. Sometimes just the awareness that I have a choice in deciding how I want to react is enough for me.

It has also been a realization that this time suspension has not released me of my power, but has, in fact, given it to me.

Bondage of an Evaded Car Crash

Last night I narrowly avoided a horrific car accident. My actions to evade the crash resulted in almost causing another crash behind me. I had my daughter in the car with me and I was quite shaken. From the cars behind me, one woman closely followed me, flashing her lights. When I stopped to wait for a light to change, she pulled beside my car and started screaming at me. I just kept saying I was sorry, but it didn't help to quell her threats or her voice. She finally drove off.

The incident bothered me all night - I kept wondering "Did I cause an accident behind me? Am I at fault for someone's injuries?" These questions haunted me until morning when I was able to call the police department - completely prepared to take responsibility for my actions. Thankfully, there was no accident at that location last night. With that weight lifted, I my thoughts began to focus on the woman who screamed at me.

I understand she was terrified, so was I, and everyone else involved. But what motivated her to go out of her way to blast me and threaten me? I narrowed it down to two things: Either she had pent up anger that this brought to the surface and exploded, or she felt it was her obligation to make sure I knew how she felt and that I needed to be punished. Perhaps it was both, but I'm going with the latter.

I've come across these people a few times in my life, and I surely seem to rub them the wrong way. They are the self-imposed morally elite, the watchdogs of ethical behavior based on what their parents, society, and the church have deemed as our collective values. Always on the lookout for infringements, they must not only hold up these standards, but feel impelled to punish those who commit infractions to the code. What a burden this must be. My heart hurts for them. If they are treating us in this manner, I can't imagine how they constantly self-check their own behaviors to make sure that every thought, word, and deed are morally aligned with their beliefs - and constantly self-checking that their beliefs are aligned with those who deem which beliefs are acceptable.

My wish is for them to be released from their bondage, free to think alternative thoughts, free to make mistakes, and free to forgive those who almost caused their car to crash.

Lemonade Smiles

Of light and laughter and days of non-consequence.
Let lemonade smiles rule and cucumber sandwiches satisfy our hunger for experience. A picnic on a blanket under a tree with velvet breezes all around. Cool confidence spread in a thin layer on a piece of uncertainty, hidden from view. Heavy sighs, children’s cries, lilac in the air. A day passed too quickly, not enough time to commit each instant to memory.

Launching Aspirations

In the quietness of knowing,
my heart whispers dreams
of tomorrow.

Launching aspirations
into the unseen heavens,
hoping beyond hope
that visions emerge.

Calico Splinters

Calico splinters of light cascade down the edge of reason.

I look plainly at your face, expecting some kind of answer, some clue to the emotions preserved there.

What of a spellbound child enduring mediocrity - with a true heart crying out to be heard over the pontification of others?

Must it be this way? Must they be so blind?

So obvious in their "I'm not ready to be awakened" attitude?

We must smile and remember back to when we once held that perspective as well, with the surity of heart that one day they will be ready.

Whether or not it is by their choice is an entirely different matter.

Whispered Screams

Recently, I read these words in a book of letters by Thoreau and thought I'd share them with you:

"Do they know what life is? If they knew something, the places which know them now would know them no more forever."

These words struck me as I struggle/embrace change. I think the meaning here is that to live is to change, and if we change, if affects everything and everyone around us so that as we change, we no longer live in the same world. The places that know us now will know us no more forever. Kind of sad, isn't yet? Yet, I guess it can be a blessing also.

The strange thing about change is that it isn't always apparent. Sometimes, change starts as a little whisper within, something in there starts stirring, not identifible, but something is no longer the same. Those are the changes which scare me, not the big, crazy ones that are evident to everyone. These little internal shifts that bring about such prolonged change are the ones to keep your eye on. It's like the little shifts somewhere under the ocean which lead to a tidal wave of mass proportions.

Those are the whispers that come screaming at you in months to come.

Higher than a Baseline

Subjected to drama
Without my consent,
For so long
It became my way of life,
Too.

So much so
That I created it,
Where none previously existed
Just to feel safe,
In my own skin.

As I age
I analyze this,
What now is its purpose
Except the security,
Arising from misery.

Looking inside
From without,
Life is much easier
More tolerable,
Less noticeable.

Was it the drama
That made me feel alive,
Or just feel
Something higher,
Than a baseline?

Or was it that
On a lively stage of life
I knew where I stood
In quietness, I am confused
No knowing the direction to turn.

Platter of Possibility

Mentally,
I danced a jig.

Standing on the rim of chance
For so long,
Has been exhausting.

As the winds of change
Move around me,
Lifting my hair,
A feel relief carried by its currents.

I have learned
Something new for me.

It’s not the mundane,
The routine, or the boring
Which stifles me into the dark.

It’s the unknowingness
The directionlessness of
Not being sure what to do
Where to go, who to be.

It spins
My internal compass.

So many directions open
Success can follow any one.
Where will my commitment lie?

I have eternally believed
Anything can be achieved.
So as the platter of possibility
Is served,

What to choose?

Fateful Leap

I twisted the hands of fate and took my chances.
Naivety was the order of the day.
Carelessly I threw wisdom into the current
Not knowing in which direction it ran.

Sometimes chances are like that.
Through all the painstaking analytical diagnosis
Sometimes you just have to jump
And hope for the best.

Scream Why

Deflated, discontent, discouraged, and downtrodden
I lie on my back, looking up.

The light bulb flickers above me
and the floor is hard.

Welling up inside,
I feel fear, like bile in my throat.

It pushes its way
From my heart to my mouth.

As it hits the back of my teeth
I scream "WHY"

Contempt for Contentment

Bitterly I drank the juice of contentment and swallowed hard. Contentment is my bottom goal, my baseline of life. I continually want to be thrilled, excited, interested, exceedingly successful, and the master of beating the odds. For so long, I had direction (straight ahead, fast, fleeing whatever was behind me), but now contentment remains. I’m not sure where to go with it – if I am not outracing pain, then how do I know in which direction to forge? A victim of my own self-created contentment.

Perfect Day

The lights dazzled my eyes
as I whirled around the dance floor.

Could a moment
be more perfect?

White dress, heels, & pearls,
I smell the sweet bouquets as I
pass each table.

I look at the crowd -
faces all familar,
wishing me joy.

Drunken on the experience
wishing the moment
to be encased in time forever.

Perceptions of Personal Reality

Perceptions are everything to us. They filter information from our surroundings to create our own personal realities. I was deeply reminded of this a few years ago.

I had a dog named Gypsy that I loved with all my heart. I adopted her from an animal shelter my second year of college and she was my constant companion. Through bouts of ill health and both having wicked stubborn streaks, we learned much from each other. She saw me through relationships and jobs, she fell in love with the man who became myhusband, and she watched intently as our daughter grew from a baby to a child. After being by my side for almost 14 years, she started showing signs of illness. My vet confirmed that it was kidney failure and the end was near. He asked me if I wanted to go ahead and end her life for her, but I just couldn’t do it, I wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet. I cried for days as I watched her getting skinnier and skinnier. She would hardly eat but she seemed to keep such a good attitude, looking at me as if nothing was wrong. The second week after her diagnosis, she was a walking skeleton but she managed to perform her Houdini act of sneaking out of the fence and wandering the neighborhood – one of her favorite past-times. I came home from work that day to find her sitting in the front yard – instead of my usual scolding, I was amused that she still had it in her to explore. I noticed there was a message on my answering machine and as I played it my heart broke. The woman said, “I found your dog today and I’m calling the number on her tag. You should be ashamed of the way you treat this sweet dog, you must starve her to death – you don’t deserve to own her! She ran away from me before I could get her in my house but I hope she never returns to you, she needs someone who would actually love her!” Her voice became louder as she screamed, “I hope you never own another dog again – you should be reported to the authorities!”

The pieces of my heart, already broken, now shattered. To be accused of doing this to my longtime friend was so hard to hear. My first reaction was to call her back and angrily defend myself. I thought more about it. I was proud of this woman for defending this dear animal. Good for her to speak for those that can’t speak for themselves. Through her perception, she was correct and I would feel the same way – how dare someone mistreat my sweet Gypsy! What good would come from me correcting her? It may stop her from speaking up the next time when it is warranted. So I let the issue lie with my admiration of her.

It was a good lesson for me, though. Each time I believe that someone is in disagreement with my viewpoint, I stop for a minute and think of this woman’s perception. She was right and I was right at the same time, and yet we had opposing perceptions. In an effort to enhance individual evolvement, I challenge each of you, as I challenge myself, to contemplate the other person’s perception in all circumstances. Respecting someone’s perception, even though it may be conflict with our own truth, may be the key to true understanding.

Fine Cloths of Deceit

In return for her power, he gave her conditional love.
She was gracious to receive it, for it had been wrapped in fine cloths of deceit and tied with perfect ribbons of infatuation.

Creating Life

Slideshow of memories passing before my eyes.

Seeing them from a more distant perspective sheds
a dusting of understanding.

I was in such a search for love that I compromised
time after time after time.

I ignored me for so long, pushed me into the shadows
that I forgot I existed.

Now, as I emerge, I question, cry, laugh, dream,
analyze, analyze, analyze.

I understand, explore, and invent myself each day.

The process of creation.

Google Knows

Self-induced knowledge is best. The knowledge we pick and choose for ourselves. Unaware of other opinions out there, uncaring of other viewpoints. Vehemently claiming that the thought is ours and ours alone. Relishing in our genius. Thinking ourselves certain.
One Google search can ruin it all.

Coined Consent

We flipped a quarter to decide our fate. Would we stay or go? Try our hand at a flawed relationship to end abruptly in misery at some future time, or end it here while we were still happy? The coin bounced twice and landed flat. I silently nodded my consent. Years later I would think back to that moment and wonder, “What if?”.

Preparing for Ernesto and Other Storms

With Tropical Storm Ernesto beginning to approach my home and perhaps gain in strength to become Hurricane Ernesto, I follow my pre-storm ritual of scanning the yard for potential projectiles. What might unexpectedly become a weapon thrust at my home? The skeleton of a forgotten potted plant encased in a clay bowl that could be thrown at my windows? It’s as if nature is about to riot around us and we must find its armory before the soldiers of wind and rain attack our domicile fortresses. I realize I’m used to this type of preparation, and not just because I physically retraced these steps more times than anticipated last year.

It’s also something that I do emotionally whenever I feel a large internal storm brewing. In preparation for any type of conflict, I scan my internal horizon to identify any emotional or mental projectiles that may be used as weapons against me. I try to minimize the impending damage by removing my vulnerabilities from view and assuming a defensive stance. Preparation depends on the size of the storm – am I sitting for an annual work review or am I protesting a charge on my credit card?

Either way, I have my supplies at hand while I attempt to anticipate its path. And, either way, the storm passes and all returns back to normal until the next well defined circle on my radar.

And How Does That Make You Feel...

“You’re not like the rest of us, Angela” he earnestly explained. I stoically waited for more.
“When things happen around you, you automatically know what you think and how to act. You’re the kind of person that someone would want next to them in a foxhole during war. There is no ambiguity to you.”
I found those comments to be interesting. How could I not know what I think about something, or anything?
Looking back, though, I had not always felt this way. Times in my life when I wasn’t sure who I was, ever-changing, so how could I know what to think or how to react? Times when I was so obsessed with how others thought of me, or gaining their acceptance, that I was too worried about saying or doing the “wrong” thing that I wasn’t sure what was right.
It was during those times that I was the most miserable, most insecure that I’ve ever been. I guess it just wasn’t okay to be ME, I needed to be all other things to those around me. In needing this acceptance, I lost, no wait, I GAVE AWAY my power. No surprise that there were ungracious takers of this power, waiting for me to relinquish.
It took almost two years for me to regain it, at least two years from the point that I realized it was gone. Easily enough, it all started with me asking myself the questions: “What do I think about this? Do I like this or not? Is this for me or not?” If the answers were positive, I reaffirmed those things in my life, if the answers were negative, I rid myself of those items, or at least limited my exposure. It took courage and thick skin but I eventually made enough headway to get going and once it did, there was no stopping me.
I can tell you how I feel on just about any topic at any time, and you know what? I’m okay with my answers, whether people like them or not, because it’s ME who has to live with those choices, and that’s how I feel about that!

Disclosure

Whispers from the dark trying to make their way to light.
I can hear the sounds swarming around inside my head but they don’t yet form words.
Ideas, thoughts, energy, swirling, getting ready to disclose the answers to a mystery.
There, but not.
Like a child sounding out her first word, knowing it’s meaning but unable to enlighten others.
I can feel it gaining momentum, ready to release knowledge into my conscious mind and solve my ambivalence.

My Way

I laugh in spite of myself. Always so serious, trying to force my life to happen MY WAY (Frankie S. had it right). That is the exact point in which it all unravels and I become undone. It’s when I stop and decide I am a loser and can’t figure out my life like I should be able to. I let it go for awhile, have a couple of glasses of wine, and beg a friend to listen intently as I droll on about how I can’t find the exact meaning of my life. Within a day or two, it happens. Hard to say exactly what it is, almost like a CLICK, you know, when everything falls into place? An epiphany is thrust upon me and suddenly I get it. I GET IT. With clarity I see my vision, my place, my truth, my potential. I rejoice. Then, I laugh. Viewing me like this is funny. It happens the same way, every time. If I could only see what I was in while I was in it, and I could consciously make the choice to release it, then my peace would come. It always does. Evolvement, I guess.

Lunch Chatter

She laughed and I laughed, but we both knew it was true and there was nothing funny about it. Here we were approaching mid-life with still nothing to say to each other. Reminiscing over yesteryear’s follies was the only interaction we could muster. Sad that we could go no further. It was unsafe to proceed past some unofficial line in time – we dare not cross for fear of speaking and addressing those topics not meant for lunch.

Rhythmic Dance in the Mundane

I strive to look at life through the eyes of a dreamer, the heart of a healer, and the mind of a philosopher. I scan my life for everyday poetry, the rhythmic dance in the mundane. The gentle swing of the non-descript.

Heart Congruence

Her eyes crinkled as she smiled, and I wasn’t sure if she was kidding. Is this how it was going to be, a conversation in double-entendres, with me never knowing what she is really trying to tell me? I hate that. Just spit it out. If you don’t like me fine, just be honest with it and stop all the child’s play. At some point, I should think we grow up, stop putting on a pretty face, and either say what we actually mean, or walk away. Why the pretend? Life is too short for living incongruently with our heart.

Flight of Heart

Gently, the winds of memory caress my mind. What seemed ordinary is now somehow twisted, as if something changed in my backward journey, and now the present has been altered. What’s the use of reason if there is no doubt? I fly away on warm summer breezes, staring at the microcosm below. I softly tug at heart strings to lower my distance to the Earth. Ever so present is the sheer discomfort of flight.

Divine Prodding

Suddenly I felt it.
The shake, the shudder, the shimmer of understanding.
How could it have escaped me so long?
Disguised at once in pretty clothes and a dirty face.
I misunderstood it the whole time -
Reluctant to take my part in the action,
Playing in the game of life.

Heaven sent knowledge
Is the hardest to decode.
Particles and bits from nowhere
And everywhere.
Somehow assembled into a beautiful symphony,
Heard only by the soul and slowly emerging
Into daylight.

Ledge Walker

She aptly ran across the ledge.
Like a child chasing a ball on the playground.
No notice of everyone around or of the 30-foot drop on either side. She was on a mission, and as such, she paid no mind to anything but what she pursued, which at the moment, was the opportunity to be famous.

Today I Stopped

Today I took a breath and stopped. I just stopped.
I stopped questioning my restless soul.
I stopped being a wife, mother, daugther, etc.
Stopped living daily as I assumed they want me to live.
Let them pick and choose their perceptions and roles of me in their lives.
For today, I am just me.
Stopped in my tracks of reality and fantasy.
Stopped here to breathe and live.

Mother Love

She is everything I ever imagined I would be.
I admire her with unending love and daily thank her for choosing me as her guide.
Her beauty follows her - as she walks I imagine rose petals falling from her hair, leaving a paradise scented trail in her wake.

I'll Take Another Serving

Each of us is presented with opportunities to serve humanity. For some, it’s on a daily basis – such as, firefighters, teachers, doctors, and social workers. For others, it’s a less frequent occurrence – bone marrow donors, surrogate mothers, and each time one of us rises to the occasion of being a momentary hero. But, for many of us, the opportunities are less than obvious. The situation, coupled with our abilities and talents, provides us with an opportunity to benefit many, although at the time it may be viewed as an action to solve an immediate challenge.

This concept became clear to me while viewing one of those educational programson cable television. The program was about an un-modernized community whose origins could be traced back thousands of years. Archeologists could not understand how it had survived a horrific drought that destroyed similar communities across the country. The answer was revealed to them when they uncovered a crude grain silo constructed under the village.

The silo was simple in its design and yet fulfilled the need to nourish its community members until rain fell. By designing and utilizing this silo, not only did its members survive, but the direct descendents of this ancient village are alive today – an extreme rarity in this part of the world.

As I viewed this program, I began to wonder about the person who designed this life saving silo. Did everyone accept this person when he/she first proposed the idea, or did they ridicule him/her into self doubt? Was this silo created by a task force appointed by a committee to study the impact of the device over a widespread area and form a hypothesis that this was the correct action to implement? More important, was this device created to serve humanity to sustain generations to come, or was it just someone using their talents to the best of their abilities and addressing an immediate need? That’s what I think led to this creation.

The point here is that we do not always perceive the reach of our actions. So many times we think small, or we don’t perceive our daily lives as being miraculous. How many times have we heard someone say, “I just want to make a difference?” with the perception that it must be on a grand scale, or something which can be immediately measurable? I doubt that the creator of this prolific silo was burdened with the pressure of sustaining future generations, he/she probably just used a creative solution that enabled them to eat until the first raindrop hit the dry earth.

I strive to live each day stretching my mind and spirit and utilizing my abilities to their highest degree, so perhaps the results can be life changing for me, those around me, and maybe even those I may never meet. It is with this faith that I must view and conduct my life to live my highest potential.

Stormy Lessons

As we are in hurricane season once again, and I am writing from one of the rings around the storm bullseye, I remember my lessons from one of last year's big storms. Shortly before the hurricane made landfall, I spoke with a friend who wisely advised, “Remember, there are lessons in every storm.” Well, mine all started with a mango tree.

The year before, I thought about cutting the large branches of the tree, because even in mild breezes, its fruit become grenades to my screened enclosure, and I don’t really care for the taste of the fruit. But, I just didn’t make the final decision of doing it - other things came up and it became less of a priority.

During the storm, winds swiftly snapped off half of the tree, crashed it on top of my screened enclosure, and neatly deposited it into the pool. Lesson #1: Sometimes if you wait long enough to make a decision, it will be made for you, perhaps not with the same outcome as you envisioned. How many times in my life have I struggled with indecision and decided it was easier to just let something go until it became unimportant, only to have the delayed decision impact me in a negative way?

After the hurricane, a tree cutting company was in my neighborhood and I discussed with them about removing the tree from the pool. Sam, the company representative, gave me an estimate which included cutting down the remainder of the tree. However, I could not bear the thought of cutting down a healthy, living thing just because it was inconvenient, especially since it has resided here much longer than I have. Sam pointed to a large, diseased section of the tree and explained that if he did not cut this tree down it would eventually rot and end up going through my roof in the next large storm. He suggested planting a more suitable tree in the same location and giving it a chance at life in my yard. Lesson #2: Just because something has been in your life for a long time does not mean that it is healthy and contributing to your life. It may be time to closely examine it to see if it still serves your life in the way intended, if not, you may need to muster the strength to cut it down and start over. How many times in my life have I clung on to something that no longer served me just because I felt guilty about letting it go, considering the time and energy I had invested? Not to mention that I valued its worth over my own well being.

The final lesson came quickly. After convincing me to cut down the mango tree, Sam looked at another tree in my yard and suggested that it be removed as well. I explained to him that it was an antique orange tree that had been, for all intended purposes, resurrected from the dead and was going to produce oranges soon. He said it was not an orange tree; I insisted it was since I had watched the tree sprout from a stump that I knew to be an orange tree, so how could it produce something else? Sam picked off a leaf, crushed it, smelled it, and handed it to me. These leaves didn’t smell like oranges at all. So I then pondered the rarity that I had such an antique, genetically odd line of orange tree that its leaves didn’t smell like oranges. This tree was indeed special. I was impressed. Sam then shed light on my disillusion by explaining the typical characteristics of a ficus tree. I insisted it was not a ficus, however, my certainty was starting to weaken. He then lifted the dead tree stump to reveal that yes, indeed, a ficus plant had grown around and inside the orange stump, and with similar looking leaves, had disguised itself as an orange tree. Lesson #3: When we are questioned about our beliefs, instead of adamantly defending them, it is better to take a breath, withhold judgment, and consider perhaps there are other alternatives to our perspective of the truth. How many times in my life have I vehemently agreed or denied something based on my prior knowledge of it and not given the opportunity to investigate how it may have changed into something else? How many times have I denied the opinions of others because my truth was so strong that theirs couldn’t even be considered?

I now assuredly understand that there are lessons in every storm. Storms can be physical, emotional, even conditional; but with each, I must take the time to analyze what the situations mean to me and how I can learn from them.