Changing Perceptions

Today Only

2010-10-30T20:38:00.000-04:00

TODAY ONLY

What if I told you that tomorrow I may not love you?
Would you still enjoy my company tonight?
Tomorrow I may not be beautiful, or gracious, or coy.....
Would you still be with me today?

Could you possibly appreciate me without the vision
Of a future together -
Without counting on me to supply you
With what you need?

Could you, in this moment,
Revel in my smile?
Feel the comfort of my warmth,
And not count on me
To fulfill anything for you tomorrow?

How difficult is it
For you to live in this moment?
To suspend all expectations
And just rest in this experience?

How easy is it
To only think that in this instance
LIFE IS GOOD
I AM HAPPY
and TO HELL with
What the next moment may contain?

If you can be with me now,
Sit with me,
Laugh with me,
Let your heart sing with me,
And not judge, expect, or project
Onto me....
Your company is welcome...
I'll even save you a seat.

I Declare this to be a SUNDRESS SUMMER!

2010-06-16T00:00:00.000-04:00

I declare this to be a SUNDRESS SUMMER!
Nothing but sundresses in this South Florida heat. Flowing around my knees with the breeze blowing across my thighs. Swaying around me as I casually walk in my flip flops, toes painted bright red, no wait, purple. It’s a purple-toe summer for me this year. Hair flying free in the breeze, whipping my face with sharp strands. So tired of being constrained in clothes that stick to me, confining me to conform to their shapes. No, this summer is the free flow of sundress, spaghetti straps, no, even better, angel hair skinny straps across my shoulders down my back. My stride is a swaying dance, stepping to a beat in my head, pounding me like the heat waves rising from the pavement, urging me to hurry. But I don’t. I relish in the outdoor oven, sweat droplets running down my chest, sunglasses like night vision goggles, enabling me to endure the glare. I smell sweet magnolias and the ocean breeze, luring me to hop-skip the lava sand and rush to the cooling waters of mother ocean. I stand there, gazing at my purple toes, watching the hem of my sundress absorb the salt water as it swirls around my legs. I look up as a sea gull flies overhead, screeching at me, as if to say, “God Save the Summer Sundress!”

The Honor of Friendship

2010-05-25T10:56:00.001-04:00

It's not even Noon yet, and I've already experienced many facets of friendship. A childhood friend reminded me that although much time as passed, we are all still the same. A college friend is supporting my dreams and reminiscing of our crazy adventures. A Facebook friend, who I haven't yet met personally, encouraged me. A best friend left to pursue his passion and I wished him well. A new friend professed his love for me...not sure about that one. A previous friend came back into my life. And, a close friend gave me the honor of being there for her as her father passed.

I am indeed, living a fulfilling life.

What more will this day bring to me?

TAKE THE STAGE - ENCORE! ENCORE!

2010-02-25T08:20:00.000-05:00

Today this excerpt from MacBeth (William Shakespeare) will not leave my head:

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

It reminds me that we have a choice. We can go through life, day by day, existing, not contributing, just surviving. Until, finally, our time is up.

Exit stage right.

So many people are doing this around us.
The WALKING DEAD.
Letting life HAPPEN TO THEM.
Not INTENTIONALLY CREATING IT.

The real SECRET to THE SECRET
Is that we can change anything about our lives.
But it does take:
Decision Making
Focus
Passion
Perseverance
Faith
and, yes ACTION.

Do what feels right. But not to the detriment of others.
Live your life.
Pursue your passion.
Open your heart.
Let nothing stop your contribution.

We all want to see your time on the stage. We want you to WOW us, entertain us, make us laugh, let us cry in your pain. SHARE YOU with us.

Don't hide.
Get up there on life's stage and STRUT!

More than an hour, a lifetime.
And we will hear MORE from you.
And you will signify SOMETHING.

The authentic you.
The curtain is about to open.

It's time for you to take stage.
We're waiting.
And we want you to succeed.

Snowglobe of Life

2010-02-15T21:45:00.002-05:00

My friend calls it the snowglobe of life. It's when our whole world has been turned upside-down suddenly, and all the pieces are flying around in the air. Indistinguishable parts swirling around our head blurring in and out, near and far. Reaching out to touch each piece, and yet turning as something else grabs our view. We stand and wait for all the particles to fall where they may, plant themselves around our feet, or cling to our shoulders and hair, each vying for a spot in our life, each straddling for importance. Yet, we stand there peeking, searching, wondering what has happened to our world. The disarray can be debilitating.

Mostly because it was our own hand that turned the globe from the beginning.

Endless Conversing

2009-06-16T00:22:00.000-04:00

Your friendship has become
Salve to soothe my troubled soul.
Who would have known
You were out there, knowing me
And I knowing you, although
We only now just met?
My mind and heart
Run rampant with things to say
To inform you of all details of life
And yet words mean nothing.
My soul talks to yours
In language all its own
Words are only punctuation
To endless conversing.

Fell from my Own Grace

2009-06-09T13:33:00.001-04:00

I irresponsibly fell from my own grace.

The pedestal I constructed for myself

Lost its stability and I came tumbling

To the hard earth.

Setting unattainable standards

For myself and others

Yet always having hope

That neither of us will falter.

What is it within me

That strives to succeed, and then

Pushes the finish line further away

Just as my proud heart nears it?

Perhaps it’s the internal drive

To pursue, to challenge, to dream, and

Of never wanting to be someone

Who did not live up to their potential.

Stamping an Invisible Impression

2009-01-30T08:57:00.005-05:00

I awoke from my dream state, bewildered.
Wasn't I just in another world?
Seeming so real, I stumbled back to reality.
Weren't you beside me, whispering in my ear?
What was it you said?
I only remember smiling,
Glad to have you by my side.
The wisdom of your words
Penetrating my mind and heart
It all made sense then, but now escapes me.
In the twilight of my dreams
Lies the altered world of possibilities
Where anything can happen -
Stamping an invisible impression on my soul.

Fuzzy Focus

2009-01-10T13:16:00.002-05:00

Yesterday I was in the middle of a long drive on the South Florida turnpike. It was sunset on a beautiful day. The sky looked like it was on fire - stoked with low clouds, it burned dark red, burnt orange, and faded into dark shadows. I passed a lake and noticed the striking colors reflected on its surface, encompassed by the treeline's black edge and a large imposing mountain on one end. Being so beautiful, I savored it in my mind and captured the scene into memory so I could view it the rest of the evening. Such a gorgeous, unusual sight. Seconds after passing it, I realized that there is no such thing as a mountain in South Florida. I looked closer and realized I was driving by the landfills that boarder each side of the highway in this region. What I had considered a magestic mountain was a pile of trash reaching about seven stories high, and there was a good chance that the serene lake was not for swimming! How quickly my perception of the landscape changed. Then I realized, there really is beauty in everything, sometimes our lens just need to be a little out of focus in order to see it clearly.

Breathing Underwater

2008-10-28T14:22:00.003-04:00

Overwhelmingly my heart screams - "STOP CHOKING ME!", yet my mind tightens its grip. Out of balance, neither works well. Internal yin & yang trying to co-exist in the same body. My heart must learn to think and my mind must learn to love, or surely I'm on the path to eternal sorrow. It's as simple as breathing underwater with an air tank - all about retraining the mind and body to feel when it would normally be wrought with panic. Perhaps cooperation is the key, with a dose of faith, and safety is the destination.

Hurried Heart

2008-10-08T08:49:00.001-04:00

Another hectic morning was looming as I hurriedly ran out of the house, arms full of the supplies I would need to run my errands. I looked down as I locked the front door, and noticed an unwelcome gift from my cat – a large dead rat lay next to my front walkway. I knew I didn’t have the time to deal with it right then, so I made a silent promise to take care of it as soon as I returned. I also made a mental note to add a pet store errand to my list today to purchase a collar with a bell on it, so I wouldn’t have to handle this again in the future.

Upon returning home and getting settled, my mind travelled to the chore of disposing the disgusting, potentially diseased, dead animal, who quite easily matched the “rat” as opposed to “mouse” category, by my front walk. Shovel in hand, I opened the front door, facing a task I did not want to do. Rain was pouring down now, heavily, so I went back in to get a raincoat. When I reappeared, I looked down at the lifeless creature.

The rain had smoothed its soft gray fur in a line down its neck and back, appearing as if someone had made a gentle part to expose delicate white skin. Raindrops continued to fall on its velvety tender ears and they bent with the pressure of each drop, then back up again. I felt my heart start to soften for this hapless creature who met an untimely death after years of surviving on this planet. Its long black whiskers no longer twitched, and its dark eyes held no sight. In this moment, I realized that this little life, as all life, is sacred and in need of respect. I prepared the earth for its burial and sent a silent prayer to the heavens for its tiny soul.

In this experience I realized that there are still times when I judge the moment based on my own perceptions, my own reality. These usually happen when I am in a hurry, caught up in my world of things that need to be done, schedules that need to be kept, time that needs to be spent certain ways. When I take a moment to slow down, to breathe, to focus – awareness will creep in and whisper a life lesson into my ear. As we all go through our hurried days, are there not more times like these, when we can see the alternative to our own perceptions, our own way of seeing our world, and open our hearts to new insights? ---Angela Frisby

Low Battery

2008-06-05T09:53:00.001-04:00

I was in a hurry on Wednesday. An appointment had run late and I had several errands to run before I needed to pick up my daughter from school and rush to the next activity. My mind was racing with items that I continuously prioritized to accommodate an already too-tight schedule. I quickly turned into the school pick-up line, just in time to secure a coveted spot. The sky opened wide and rain fell quickly and hard around my car. I had a few minutes to jot down the items that I was worried would be forgotten if not documented somewhere, so I turned off the engine and took out my daily notebook.

All around me lightning popped and thunder boomed. I sat there emptying my brain on paper as well as thinking up more items that needed to be completed by the end of the week. I had one minute left before school released so I tried to start my car. It would not start. I turned the key again, nothing happened. After sending a quick plea to the Universe, still nothing. I frantically checked my surroundings.

Car in park? Check. Lights off? Check. Radio and Air Conditioner off? Check. Cell phone charger unplugged? Check. I try the key again, and still nothing. I take a breath and scan the car. What could it be, I had only sat here for about fifteen minutes with the lights and radio on, how could a battery die so quickly? Then I saw it. The tell-tale little green light attached to an outlet – my navigator was the culprit. My coveted navigator. It has been by-far the best present I’ve ever received because not only does it get me where I’m going, it gives me the quickest, most reliable route, and an estimated time of arrival, so I can plan my next activity with efficiency. I unplugged the navigator and once again tried the ignition. It started immediately.

Once my daughter was securely in the car, I started off again to the next item on my list. Then I started thinking about how a dead battery could relate to my life. Here I was, stressed out and tired from trying to get too much done in a day, and my personal battery was low. As this awareness became more clear, I then thought about what items in my life are using my energy, and which ones are practically draining me. I realized it was time to unplug my personal navigator and take a rest without anything scheduled and without worried thoughts running rampant through my mind. It was time to recharge.

How about you? Are you aware of the areas in your life that drain your energy? How low is your personal battery, and is it time to recharge it? What steps could you take to bring it back to full charge? Good luck! -- Angela Frisby

Are you a Saver or Spender?

2008-03-10T11:37:00.000-04:00

It was a beautiful day as I unloaded my pitchfork full of manure into the wheelbarrow. I had agreed to volunteer at a horse rescue center as a favor to my daughter, and also to get some much needed exercise. After the first stall was clean, I moved to the next. Younger volunteers sent me confused stares, and I finally realized that I was performing the worst job at the center – mucking the quarantine stalls. I guess it was a rarity to see a parent get physically involved, especially at this capacity. I, too, began to question my sanity. At that moment, wisdom stepped quietly into my brain. I realized that for me, this job was the most important. Where I was standing, these beautiful, innocent creatures were given repose and hope to get well, or were offered kindness before dying. Either way, it was a privileged area for me to work.

I began to think about the journeys of these lovely horses. They’re all waste products of spenders – humans who go through life spending resources, time, and energy to the detriment of everyone around them. Their currency is relationships, trust, and ego, which they exploit for personal gain, without consideration of those they affect. We see the results of spenders everywhere in life – whether it be our littered highways, animal rescue centers at full capacity, or a child with low self-esteem. For anyone choosing to help rectify the effects, it can feel like a losing battle.

I looked up to see a pitiful horse – bones sticking out, auction sticker still plastered to her back leg, and a vacant look in her eyes. I then noticed the rope connected to her halter. At the other end, I see a kind hand attached to a gentle man. He is leaning toward her, whispering words of French comfort in her ear. Our eyes meet and at that moment, I see hope. We both know her chances are so slim, but it doesn’t matter, all that is important is that we are here trying and bringing comfort – saver to saver. We exchange quiet, almost unperceivable smiles. As I saver, I know he’s doing his share and he knows I’m doing mine - that’s all we can ask of each other.

I now ask you - Are you a spender or a saver? Are there times when you are both? What’s your life’s currency, and what are you willing to exchange for it?

Walls

2008-02-12T15:35:00.000-05:00

Walls made from materials as various as personalities.

Walls made of loneliness.
Made of fear.
Made of sadness and despair.

Walls made of lost hopes.
Of distrust.
Of insecurity.

Keeping everyone out.
Yet unknowingly
Locking themselves in.

A heart crying out for love
For compassion
And understanding.

Not realizing that it is all there
Before them
Stretching out

With key in hand
Willing to take a chance
And unlock the door

Within the wall.

Interference on the Play

2008-02-07T09:42:00.000-05:00

I live in a small town that is regarded as a haven for the famous and sometimes, the infamous. Celebrities of all types come here to live or vacation, as we are known to give them the distance they seek, and are respectful of their privacy; they’re also attracted to the beautiful landscapes, great weather, and the company of other celebrities should they desire it. Once such celebrity lives near my home, he’s a retired athlete nearing sixty. At the height of his fame, I was too young to know of him; however his college career was spent at the same alma mater as mine, so I knew all about him long before we became residents of the same town. He has a face that’s easy to recognize and eyes that still shine when he smiles. When I see him in old photos, I can imagine the charisma exuded when he swaggered into a room.

Sometimes I see him at the grocery store, moving slow due to his numerous injuries and surgeries, or perhaps just easing through life now, without the demands of a constant cheering public wanting his valuable time. It was college gameday last season and I needed a few snacks for friends as we readied for the game (I take college football most seriously). Sporting a t-shirt with my alma mater’s logo blazed across it, I hurried through the grocery store aisles searching for the perfect condiment. As I rounded the end of one aisle, not looking ahead, I ran smack into a cart, hitting me in the side. Embarrassed, I looked up into his eyes and found instant recognition, he, of course, is used to that look and flashed a huge smile at me. “Are you okay, I didn’t see you coming,” he said. Now unaware of my pain, I turned into a 10 year old and yelped, “Do you think we’ll win today?” as I pointed to my shirt. This started a ten minute conversation in which he spoke football terms I’d never heard, and I nodded my head like a true offense aficionado. He acted as if he didn’t want me to leave. I finally became aware of the time and apologized for having to go. He held out his huge hand and introduced himself, as if I had no idea who he was, and asked for my name. I was so taken by his humbleness that I invited him back to our house to watch the game, and he was generous enough to say he’d already made plans.

As someone who is not easily star-struck, especially by sports figures or other celebrities, I was surprised by the effect this interaction had on me. It wasn’t his fame or his charisma, it was something else. It was more his enjoyment of interacting with someone who wanted nothing from him, lingering for a few moments to speak of a commonality in a place so far away from here, and discussing the hope of an upcoming season. The next weekend, due to a thoughtless moment with the media, his face was plastered in every news venue – TV, newspapers, the internet, he was everywhere. I watched as reporters hounded him, announcers made disparaging remarks, and writers ridiculed him, all in the name of getting more viewers to their market, regardless of the cost to his life. It was then that I understood why he lingered with me that day in the grocery store. Perhaps it was in the simplicity of the moment, discussing the team’s offensive tactics, that he, like me, was just a fan of the game.

It made me wonder about other times when this happens. Times when we get so caught up in the idea of something and everything that goes with it, (and wrong with it), that we forget the simple pleasure of just enjoying something of interest. Impressions and perceptions burden our experience to the point that our energy is more focused on what surrounds the event and how it is perceived, rather than just absorbing the pleasure it gives us. I try to keep that in mind now, when I start getting tangled in briars of the extraneous opinions of others, the interference, and forget my true pleasure, playing in the game of life.

--Angela Frisby

Inner Peace Battle

2008-02-06T10:34:00.001-05:00

The cool, gentle breeze gave flight to my soul. What a gorgeous day!

I inhaled the fragrance of gardenia and exhaled mindless anxiety.

She said, “Just follow the flow of the earth. It makes it all so much easier.”

I know she’s right and I try to remain where I am – centered, joyous, thankful.

As the black illness of worry crouches in the shadows, I send it away with the breath of my lungs.

It departs momentarily, turning to glare at me with the promise of imminent return.

My warrior heart feels relief, for I have a fleeting victory in the fight for inner peace.

Introspective Cave

2008-02-04T10:23:00.000-05:00

Emerging from my introspective cave
Entering the outside world
To explore, expand, experience.

All fodder for my interior fire.

For what is reflection,
If not comparative analysis?

Worn Beliefs

2008-01-25T12:36:00.000-05:00

I believe that spirituality
is not like a beautiful new shirt
that sits in the back of your closet
waiting for the right occasion
to be worn.

Instead, I believe it to be

More like a favorite ring
worn constantly, through all situations
becoming a part of you
so that when it's not on
you feel like you are missing something.

Dreamer

2008-01-14T22:33:00.000-05:00

Some May Say I’m a Dreamer…

She laughed and called me a “dreamer”. She said it as though I was an adult who had forgotten to put away my childhood toys. I’ve been called that before – and other things, such as idealist, blind optimist, Pollyanna, eternal enthusiast, devoted believer, naïve fool, flower child, utopian devotee, and even a romantic zealot. When I was younger, these words wounded me. I felt defensive as I pointed out instances of when I was pragmatic, level-headed, cynical, and unflinchingly realistic. I would always end my defensive rant with a sharp – witted verbal barb just to emphasize my point. I felt that to be labeled a “dreamer” or similar adjective was something detrimental to my character – as if I didn’t possess the survival skills to navigate life’s uncertain roads. I couldn’t recall one instance when the label of “dreamer” was a compliment to someone – unlike the descriptions of people who were “practical”, “down-to-earth”, “logical” or “analytical”. So I choose to hide my natural nature and began to display the more seemingly desirable qualities mentioned above. As the years passed, I encased my dreamer’s heart in layers of normalness so I could assimilate with the mass majority of those with whom I was surrounded. I assured myself that one day, when appropriate, I would easily unwrap the layers surrounding my dreamer’s heart and would return to my natural dreamer nature. I underestimated how difficult this task would become.

A few years ago I had quite an awakening. I believe most of us do at some point in our lives. An awakening that serves as a catalyst for change as we start to question our lifestyles, loves, and accomplishments. It was at this point that I deemed it an appropriate time to unwrap my heart and return to the idealist that I had always been. I had not anticipated that the layers of normalness had hardened into solid walls of practicality, separated by rooms of fear. I began to slowly chisel away the stone, day by day, as I allowed myself to have lingering thoughts about the possibilities of my life. I began to write again, slowly at first, and I began to have conversations with others, and myself, timidly at first, until the walls started to crumble, brick by brick. I realized that this journey was not without spiritual essence, (I now know that it was required). It took years, but I didn’t give up, determined to reclaim my true nature of trusting myself, others, nature, and guidance from above.

Each day I remind myself of who it is I want to be in this world. Sometimes I stray from this ideal, but I eventually return, some times quicker than others. I now understand that there are more people out there, too, trying to reclaim their dreamer’s hearts, struggling through the difficulty of it. It is my hope that we continue the battle, ban together in this journey searching for our selves – supporting and inspiring each other, laughing, crying, and trusting each other. But most importantly, knowing that to be a dreamer is something special in this world, we hold the hopes of humanity in our hands, something that a pragmatic cannot attain.

…But I’m Not the Only One

--Angela Frisby

I Ought to Know

2008-01-14T14:55:00.000-05:00

I’m one of those idealistic optimists who will grasp something long after its unused potential has expired. As I’ve aged, it’s been a challenge for me to let go of my perceptions of how things “should” or “ought” to be. Whether it was a friend who “ought” to understand my viewpoint, an employer who “ought” to defend my work, a lawbreaker who “ought” to know better, or someone I loved who “ought” to love me back. Time, offering me the sight of a bigger picture, has helped me understand that to grow, I had to let go of these notions.

I was recently reminded of this lesson when my wayward tabby cat offered a peek at my heart. When he was a kitten, he was very lovable and devoted; the attention he provided was wonderful. However, when he was a few years old, he was hurt and it changed everything about him. He became distrustful and distant, not letting me come within yards of him. I tried to coax him to revert to his previous ways. Over time, he would let me in closer proximity to him, but never less than an arm’s length. I couldn’t understand how a soul could change so drastically and not have an inclination to return back to trusting and loving. In my mind, obstacles only exist for us to fight for and defend our right to freely love and trust. After a year passed, I finally accepted that he had permanently changed, and there was nothing I could do to alter it. I had to adapt my expectation of his behavior, and accept him as he now was, not for something I knew him to once be, or hoped for him.

I realized that I had this same experience when I was younger, with people that I loved. I would cling to the hope that they would revert back to a time where they could freely love and trust, and share that with me. (I saw it happen, but only once-the difference being that person wanted the change before I came along.) Everyone else emotionally struggled with me, tiring of the fight, wanting me to declare surrender and exit the battlefield. As the years passed and I sought self-reflection, I then began to understand that as I changed and expected everyone to accept “the evolved me”, I better understood how others could ask me to accept their altered identity of distance and distrust. In this acceptance, I realized that each day, each of us form who we decide we are, going forward into the future. None of us are ever static, because time has a way of slowing revising us, molding us into the person we either consciously choose to become or letting life’s experiences form our identity. It is in this that I understand the concepts of caring detachment, objective acceptance, and that “ought” can also mean “nothing”.
-- Angela Frisby

Deadly Blame

2007-07-18T09:00:00.000-04:00

Through the sweet smell of lilies...

He glared at us
Across the coffin
Where our dear friend
Rested.

His eyes accused us -
If you loved him so much
How could you
Let this happen?

We knew the reason
Our friend no longer smiled
And it was staring right at us
Across the oblong box.

Now that I am older
I understand that
He, too, knew
He shouldered most of the blame.

Ceasing Moment

2007-06-22T09:11:00.000-04:00

I remember the moment
I said
NEVER AGAIN.
It took alot of me,
And alot from me
To utter those words
But I did it,
And it became me.

That moment changed me
Each time I felt like
Compromising
I've thought back to that moment
And all I'd taken
And all I'd given away
That brought me to that place.
Somehow any other challenge
Meant nothing to me
Because I'd already achieved
The hardest.

At the time,
Though,
It was not a
Conscience decision
To stop.
It was
The only alternative.

Suburban Awakening

2007-06-20T22:32:00.001-04:00

It's the tale of a suburban housewife. Peering over the rose garden, pondering what to cook for dinner tonight. And yet, beneath it all, a dreamer's heart stirs. An awakening, a longing, a need to be a superhero, or a least a little off center from straight and narrow. As time eases on, traces, almost undetectable, emerge - a twinkling eye, a laugh a little too loud, a secret smile to the mirror. All signs of a soul awakening.

Commonplace Episode

2007-06-19T18:31:00.000-04:00

The smell of strong liquor
And aftershave
Immediately spun me
Back there.
To a place without future,
Without heart, without hope.
So long ago it seems
The pieces were assembled
The picture
Made anew.
How can it be
That life's transitions
Become a commonplace episode
On the path
Of leading me here?

Happiness Not Eluded

2007-06-19T18:08:00.000-04:00

I loved and lost
And loved again.
Then repeated this cycle
Twice more
Before stopping at
Security's gate.
Swinging open the iron
One last time
And tightly fastening
The lock behind me.
Now looking back
The expanded distance
Bland to my heart
As I realize
Happiness has not
Eluded me.

Breathing My Name

2007-05-21T14:11:00.000-04:00

"Are you there?" I whispered.
I swear I felt your presence, softly beside me.
I heard you breathe my name, gently on the air.
I turned to look for you.
Knowing I could not see
But wishing all the same.
Has it been that long
Since you left me?
Somedays I still smell
Your sweet cologne, and vanilla.
A tear streams down my face.
Then I turn, to resume my life.
And go on,
Surviving.

Writer I Am

2007-05-10T10:46:00.000-04:00

"I'm a writer," I said hesitantly. I could have just as easily said - "I'm a reader," with the little confidence I could muster. Isn't it weird that certain motor skills also qualify as jobs? Writer, speaker, seer, but listener or hearer means nothing? Why so much value on doing and so little on receiving the messages of others? Mental tangent passing, I thought back to my statement. What does it mean to be a writer? I used to think it meant being published - anywhere - or being tormented for not being published, those were the options. As if the mass approval / acceptance of others lent validity to the written words. Today my beliefs are altered. For me personally, being a writer involves invoking courage to honestly depict my thoughts and emotions through the written word. Only I know when that happens - regardless of what appears. If I inspire others or provoke a thought, it is but a bonus for which I am grateful.

Checked Emotions

2007-05-09T22:48:00.000-04:00

Alone I sat there
Bewildered by my own reaction.
Wasn't I the composed one?
Securely aware of my bluff and tell?
Covering up my "give"
Like a well-trained method actor?
Was I now the embodiment
Of a screaming tirade?
Unaware of checking
My emotions at the door.

Chocolately Day

2007-05-07T10:05:00.000-04:00

In this moment, there is only me, the sun, the water, and the ants who want a minute taste of my chocolately concoction.

I vision myself as one of the ants, and this day is my sweet drink.

I wander from the drought-stricken grass – experiencing the banality of life – and seek the sugary taste of a beautiful day.

Enamored Enlightenment

2007-05-01T10:18:00.000-04:00

Mechanical motions of the day fill time between the meaningful hours. It’s like that though – if you are patient and just exist, an enlightening moment will unfold before as you stand enamored in its glow. As quickly as THAT it disappears in the ethers, leaving you to wonder if it ever happened at all.

Manifest the Familiar

2007-04-30T21:46:00.000-04:00

I have learned that we best manifest what we know. I am not a material-oriented person, therefore I will not manifest the material items to the extent of those who value this the most. For me, it’s relationships. I value the sweet rhythm and harmony when two or more souls join together to create a unique essence. This makes my spirit sing and swing. Rapture appears in my life as well-played connections, strumming their chords to form melodies of spirit….herein lies my destiny.

Sting of Midnight

2007-04-28T12:03:00.001-04:00

The sting of midnight
Pierced my heart.
When had time turned
Against my mortal soul?
At what point had I moved
From a believer to a cynic
And then back again?
Why must my conscious
Deceive my manipulating ego?
The hands of the clock
Turned to face me, palms up
And then slapped my shocked cheeks
So hard
It shook my disbelieving countenance.
Time, you are my double-crossing savior.

Premature Prodding

2007-04-22T14:09:00.000-04:00

Silently I watched it play out
Before me.
Thinking I could not know,
Would not know
Her plans.
I noticed her eyes
Darting around the room,
Searching for the words
To weave her web.
I have learned that sometimes
There is more power
In letting it play itself out.
Observing it unraveling
On its own,
Rather than
Prodding it forward
Forcing a premature change
Then regretting the outcome.
Spending time smoothing the waters
Of discontent.
No, for now
I will smile and nod,
All the while watching
My own words.
Careful not to expose
Intentions.

A little vacay time

2007-03-30T13:15:00.000-04:00

I threw my bags in the car, climbed in, slammed the door and screamed, "Yeehaw! What I didn't pack I'll have to buy - it's vacation time!"
My head spun with the possibilities of this adventure. The days of hiking, swimming, boating, and best of all, reading a stack of books that have been waiting for this occassion. I wiped worries from my brow and headed in the direction of bliss!

Tender Tears

2007-03-26T14:38:00.000-04:00

The sun warmed my face as the heatwaves carried my worries from me into the atmosphere. The clouds absorbed my thoughts and angels converted them to raindrops that fell like tears to the dry earth, touching me with tenderness.

Modern-day Dorothy

2007-03-25T15:50:00.000-04:00

She used her sunglasses like a mask, shielding the realness from escaping her pleading pupils. Her little dog resembled Toto, carried in a basket on her way to meet the wizard. Her husband, the Tin Man, his heart cold and rusted from lack of use. Her brainless Scarecrow friends wishing for wisdom, but hoping it won’t crack their botoxed foreheads. The Lion existed inside of her, begging her for courage to step off the yellow brick road, unshackle the cuffs of conformity, and dance with the Lollipop Kids.

SUV Trade-in

2007-03-23T15:18:00.000-04:00

Traded in their identities
For SUVs, Minivans, and Prozac.
I look at the parking lot
Full of us.
I wonder what it would be like
If we were all 20 years younger?
Perhaps we'd step out
Of our steel doors
To socialize with each other.
Searching for reasons to
Separate ourselves.

Light of Purpose

2007-03-22T11:01:00.000-04:00

My mind’s fog burned away
By the heat of purpose.
Drawing me into the flame
Steps away from success.
When priority rules
All else succumbs.
The difficulty is in
Identifying focus
Projecting purpose
Dedicating to decision.
When performed
The blinding light
Only beckons to be followed.

Participation Obligation

2007-03-16T13:53:00.000-04:00

Night approached and I felt my patience wane.
Had this really turned out to be an all day event?
It must be the telltale mark of having fun,
Time flies, right?

However, there is an acme in it for me.
A time when I’ve decided my enjoyment
Has peaked and it’s time to go home.

Unfortunately, this usually happens
Well after I should have already left.

So worried that I might miss out on something
I find myself again overcommitted and exhausted.

When will I learn
That just because it’s a new opportunity
Does not mean that I must participate?

Ambling toward Passion

2007-03-15T14:14:00.000-04:00

This day started like any other day, alive with possibility and brimming with passion.
My very essence propelled me to leap out of bed and jumpstart the day with an attitude of achieving the impossible, taking on the world in a single second.
Wait....
That's not exactly how it started.

More like, alive with drool and brimming with eye crust. Coffee propelled me out of my slumber, and jumpstarted my day with a trip to the bathroom. Isnt' that a more typical day, though?

What if it could be different?
What would it take?
What if all it took was recognizing one of our passions and ambling our way toward it?

Think back on your life. When was a time that you felt prodded ahead, excited by possibilities, dreaming of a new future? What made you feel that way?

And the million dollar question - How do you recapture that and adapt it to your life now?
The secret to your happiness just may rest in your answer.

For real

2007-03-13T15:24:00.000-04:00

I told myself not to be surprised
By this uncanny turn of events.
Hadn't I known from the beginning
That something didn't feel right?
Ignoring instinct can be brutal,
An internal "I told you so"
Echoes in my head.

When all else seems real,
What is the real "real"?
And will we ever know
When we've stepped into it?

Rum Cake Life

2007-03-01T14:28:00.000-05:00

I have realized that
With a mouthful of rum cake
My life
Appears much sweeter.

Perhaps it’s a message
To me
That I need to be careful
With my surroundings.

Whispered Hospital Tones

2007-02-27T14:59:00.000-05:00

As night neared, the hospital began to transform.
The gift shop lights faded, the doors locked and the subtle music hushed.
The Admissions waiting room for scheduled surgeries is now empty - closing as the last credits of Oprah run on the screen.
I sit here waiting and watching - listening to the repetitive news on a TV whose channel can't be changed. The stories blare on about how the world and its people are out of control.
The surgeons with their big watches walk to their cars as the nurses arrive for their evening shifts.
I study the worried faces of those surrounding me - all of us holding our breaths for some word of our loved ones.
I sit here now, the last one waiting; over five hours I've watched people come and go as my life has stood still. Some leave with balloons, and others linger for a lonely cab ride.
Earlier today, I pushed an elderly woman's wheelchair to the restroom - she'd been left on her own to wait while her daughter went shopping. She didn't know what to think of me, she had an alertness about her as she tried to figure out what I wanted. I returned her back to her space on the carpet and walked back to my seat, aware of the strange looks from others.
Now, sitting here alone, I wait for word. After-work visitors begin to arrive for those who have been checked-in awhile.

This day has been a depiction of compassion and obligation.
Whispered tones trying to understand the fate of those they love.

Cloths of Indifference

2007-02-22T21:19:00.000-05:00

As she spoke I gently began
To wrap my heart
In cloths of indifference and apathy
Reminded once again
To hide my weakness
From someone so close to me
Yet so far away.

Safe Mode

2007-02-08T08:55:00.000-05:00

Last week I was working feverishly on a new project that has taken over my life. I had worked hours upon hours trying to figure out every angle, every predictable occurrence surrounding this project. In the middle of exhaustive typing and research, my computer started acting quirky. Every second or third letter that I typed did not show up on the screen, and I began to get frustrated. Next, the sentences on the screen started disappearing, on their own, line by precious line. I panicked and hit the save button, strange noises could be heard, but it did stop deleting and saved what was left of my material. I slammed my hand down on the desk, angry that so much of my consumed time and effort appeared to be lost. I took a few deep breaths and restarted the computer.

As the startup screen appeared, I attempted to log on with my password, but no letters could be typed. Anxiety was running rampant through my veins, and my head started to feel light. Why was this happening? I logged in through another entrance without a password and a message appeared, indicating that I was holding down the Control button and asking me if I wanted to work in Safe Mode. I couldn’t understand this, I punched the Control button three times trying to make it release, but to no avail. I pulled the button off the keyboard, cleaned and replaced it, but no improvement. So, much to my chagrin, I worked a little in Safe Mode, then restarted the computer again, hoping for a miracle.

Waiting for the computer to reboot, I took a few more deep breaths, trying to relax the building tension. It is then when I finally got the message -- it was so clear, why did it take me so long to understand? I was holding down the control button – the CONTROL button. Not literally, but figuratively. And why was I doing this? To operate in SAFE MODE. You see, that’s how I feel safe, when I am trying to fool myself that I am in control of the world around me and every possible situation I might encounter. There’s security in predictability. It’s part of being a calculated risk taker (shouldn’t that be an oxymoron?). I feel that if I can control all factors surrounding a situation, then I can predict the outcome, thus reducing the risk. It’s an insane theory, I realize this, but it hasn’t stopped me from doing it year after year. The thing is, I know better. I know that by having a tight grasp on something and trying to force its direction is a sure indication of failure and frustration, and yet, I don’t realize that I am in the middle of this behavior until I am failing and frustrated. At this point, it’s time to make a decision.

Do I continue as is and push through this minor setback with double the force to ensure I get past it? Or do I just let go? Sounds simple doesn’t it? Once again, while in the middle of this type of behavior, I develop impaired judgment. It’s a struggle for me to just let go, but my higher wisdom got the best of me this time and I did. As usual, it was the right thing to do. A few hours later, I had quite an inspiration, an idea much better than anything I had produced before, and as Divine Wisdom would have it, something much easier and enjoyable than what I had been creating. Sometimes the hardest and easiest thing to do is just to let go and let things happen – to stop getting in the way of ourselves by trying to feel safe while holding down the control key.

Discarded Choices

2007-02-02T14:21:00.000-05:00

I learn more about myself from what I throw out than by what I choose to keep. By sloughing off items that no longer serve me, I am able to view how I have changed. THAT is no longer me. I am now THIS. Some items I was not able to part with a year ago are now easily thrown in the Give Away pile. A depiction is made of what I was ready for then, and what I am ready for now. Perhaps a year ago I still clung to notions that weren’t quite me anymore but couldn’t yet be replaced by whom I was choosing to be. For today, with the blessing of a full moon, items easily leave me and find a path to the next person, readily awaiting their appearance.

Thread of Me

2007-02-01T21:39:00.000-05:00

I took a gulp of cold wine
And felt it chill my throat and chest.
Picking at pieces of my life
Like stray threads of yarn
Unraveled from a warm sweater.
Searching for a loose thread
I viewed each facet of me
There has to be some logic
Some system to this insanity.

Questionless

2007-01-25T09:57:00.000-05:00

Senselessly I waited for a reply.
What was I expecting?
An apology? An excuse?
A blank stare was all I received.
As water fell on the outside of my glass
I waited. Silence.
I began to question myself.
Why did I want to know the answer?
What was it I really wanted to find out?
This was more about me than them.
Isn’t that the essence of every question?
We ask to receive input about ourselves,
So we can make our interpretations about
Them, Us, Our Environment.
Reality.
I’ve decided to question less,
And believe more.

Looking Back, Not Around

2007-01-23T22:40:00.000-05:00

The music soothed me in a way I had forgotten. A melodramatic longing for the past, I sung to it, hung to it, until it was over. The pain now gone, I felt the shadow remembrance of it, clinging to the edge of memory. Much effort and time was spent to arrive at this place, and I am so thankful to stand here, looking back, not around.

Leaf Lesson

2007-01-22T14:19:00.000-05:00

I swept leaves off my patio this morning. One small leaf refused to budge. I hit it harder with the broom bristles, willing it to fly free. It stayed. Again I swatted and again it stayed. I raised the broom for a third time and swatted so hard that I almost missed my target, barely grazing the top of the leaf. It zoomed into the air above me, clear of the patio. It reminded me of the scene in the movie “Ghost” where Sam is in the subway trying to move a can and another ghost comes and shows him he cannot do it with force. This leaf served as a reminder to me that sometimes movement takes place by barely grazing the top of something, then letting it flow and move and form. Perhaps just transferring it energy, so it moves in the way it chooses rather than the way I project it.

Inner Garden

2007-01-21T21:54:00.000-05:00

Today I looked at my rosegarden and was astonished at the poor condition of my beautiful rosebushes. These darlings were planted with such care, attentively pruned and fed for years, and produced giant, sweet smelling, beautiful blooms for me all year. I inspected the half-dead plants, whose sturdy stalks have become spindly spines, stretching for breath, stretching for light. My heart broke as I touched each one. In my months of wandering confusion, searching for my soul, my future, I had heartlessly ignored them. Devoid of water, nutrients, pruning, and appreciation, they now looked like thorny skeletons with a smattering of leaves, straining to hide their nudity. I knelt down into the garden and apologized profusely.

How could I have been so heartless, devoid of caring for these beauties that had brought me such joy? I gently pruned each one, watered and fed them, offered my apologies, and begged Mother Nature to kindly wrap them in loving care. I sent silent hopes to each one, willing them to survive, for their spirits to return, for them to bloom again, to once again become part of my world. As I slowly walked away from the garden, I realized that what I wished for them, I wished for myself. Over the past few weeks, I’ve pruned my life – getting rid of things that no longer serve me. I’ve fed myself new dreams, ideas, hopes, and love. I’ve forgiven myself for judging me so harshly, and I’ve asked my Higher Power to wrap me in warm blankets of care. I plan to bloom, along with my roses, in the upcoming months.

Flower Carrier

2007-01-17T08:52:00.000-05:00

It was a usual Monday for me – filled with errands and a list of to-do items. As I stood in line at the bank, I noticed a woman in front of me with a rather large vase of beautiful, fresh roses. At first, I thought she was delivering them to an employee, but she took her place in line with me. The bank tellers complimented her on the flowers and her face lit up with joy as she spoke about a new boyfriend and how proud she was to have him in her life. She said she finally got it right with this one. I, along with everyone in the immediate vicinity, smiled with her in joy and some of us reminisced of times when we had felt that way also.

Half an hour later, I was in the shoe section (not unusual for me) of a small department store. Movement nearby caught the corner of my eye, and I turned to see beautiful roses a few aisles away. As I admired them, I realized that they were being held by the same woman I had seen about fifteen minutes ago in the bank. This time I was behind her in the checkout line. The same scenario played out before me. The cashiers adored the flowers and the woman repeated her story. Once again, everyone in the immediate vicinity smiled with her in joy, except for me, I was a little bored with the story and wanted to get out of the store.

Another half hour passed and I was at the dry cleaners. Turning to carry my newly pressed clothes to the car, I was aware of the scent of roses. I looked up and became directly aligned with the eyes of the rose carrier. She was beaming as the dry cleaning clerks complimented her on the flowers and smiled with her in joy. My face held a more quizzical look. What was going on here? Was this woman desperate for some act of recognition or attention? Was this the only thing that held merit in her life at this time? Wasn’t she getting sick of telling this same story over and over? Beyond that, wasn’t her arm getting tired?

I busied myself getting back into my car and trudging on to my next errand. However, I couldn’t shake the experience of seeing this woman three times with her flowers and hearing her story repeated. I began wondering about her and how she affected those around her: The flowers brought joy to her and she shared it with everyone in which she came in contact. The gesture of sending the flowers was something of which she was not accustomed, and she did not take it for granted. She was proud to belong with someone and wanted to publicly announce it. It was as if she carried a sign that said, “In this moment I am special and I am acknowledged. It may not last forever, but while it does I’m going to declare it as loud as possible.” But it was still more than that. What I sensed most about her was hope. She was spreading hope about her life, her potential, her destiny.

I began to think about my life. What flowers do I carry with me wherever I go? What is in my life that I feel the need to show everyone that I am special and acknowledged? What do I broadcast to the world that I am hopeful about my future?

What about you? What do you carry? Is it tangible like family photos, jewelry, clothes, or other material items? Or more visceral like the group of friends by which you are surrounded or stories of success? How would you feel without these items? Do they really make a difference? Is it part of our identity, or part of our projected image?
Regardless, I am thankful to the flower carrier. She gave me a moment of self-assessment, and I wish her the best in her flowered future.

Glitter of Starstruck Eyes

2007-01-15T21:37:00.000-05:00

Eyes tired of dreaming
Heart tired of longing
Days tired of passing
Without direction.

As these draw to an end
With the awakening of action
It's time to move,
Being propelled into the light.

New year brings new ideas
New energy, new plans.
Dusting off the glitter,
From starstruck eyes.

Blinking in the sun,
It's time for change.
To create again,
To become anew.

Meditative Thoughts

2007-01-10T16:01:00.000-05:00

In those private times between sleep and stress, I float away.
Peering at my life objectively, it looks so much smaller, yet larger in the same instant.
It’s the problems that appear reduced and the blessings that appear enlarged.
It’s in these moments I am thankful.
As my busy head starts to quiet, serene images flow through the cells, relaxing, hypnotic, carefree.
I find great joy in meditation.
Makes me wonder why I don’t make more time for something as pleasant as this.

Gnawing at the Tree

2007-01-09T22:15:00.000-05:00

Tenaciously I gnaw at the tree of knowledge.
The bark becomes brittle to the touch.
For what is knowledge without application?

Swinging from its branches, I’m encased in wonderment.
I fly from its grasp and land abruptly.
For what is knowledge without perspective?

Looking up, I watch its leaves turn.
From newborn green to elderly brown.
For what is knowledge without flexibility of new understanding?

Speaking of Burrs

2007-01-08T18:15:00.000-05:00

My time with her reminded me of summers when I was a child and I nimbly danced through fields of stickers in the sand dunes. I remember carefully scanning the ground, looking for the plant with the sharp yellow burrs that would break off into splinters in my young tender feet. I’d find a safe patch, commit only my toes and ball of one foot, precariously balance on it, one-legged, as I looked for another safe patch in which to commit my other side. All the while, my arms would be full towels, lotions, a radio, and a chair – everything and anything I could load on my body so I wouldn’t have to make a second trip through the dangerous terrain.

So here I was again, tip-toeing through the stickers in my conversation with her. I scanned my mind for a topic that may have a safe patch in it, something that wouldn’t contain a burr to leave a splinter in our engagement. Once an ideal spot was found, I would balance on it, trying to find my next step without dropping my provisions. We went on like that for awhile, she in her opinions and me not wanting conflict to erupt so I could have a peaceful visit with other people there.

My dance was going quite nicely until I uttered the phrase “open-mindedness” and she said replied, “Oh, well, we call that “loose-mindedness.” At that moment, I knew the song was through, the dance was over, and it was time for me to pack my provisions back in the car and head home.

The Demise of a Repose

2007-01-05T18:01:00.000-05:00

Okay, Okay, Okay, I get it ----
It's time for me to write again.
A brief repose to celebrate the holidays.
Gaining fodder for future writing exploits.
The eternal search for subject comes up short
Due to the search.
It is in the experiencing, the dawdling, the unexpected events,
The miraculous everyday occurrences,
When nothing and everything happens.
That is when the muse raises her head,
Flashes me a sideways smile
And fills my imagination and pen
With unformed words.

Thank you to everyone who has read my blog over the past five months, and thank you for prodding me to get my fingers back on the keys.

Charlie Brown Christmas Tree Syndrome

2006-12-05T09:26:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-01T08:02:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-29T14:27:00.001-05:00

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

2006-11-21T08:56:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-20T11:41:00.000-05:00

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!!!!!

2006-11-14T09:06:00.000-05:00

"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

2006-11-09T10:49:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-08T11:22:00.000-05:00

“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!

2006-11-07T11:56:00.000-05:00

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

2006-11-01T12:28:00.000-05:00

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

2006-10-27T08:26:00.000-04:00

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

2006-10-24T15:05:00.000-04:00

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

2006-10-17T13:02:00.000-04:00

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

2006-10-16T09:16:00.000-04:00

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

2006-10-11T15:32:00.000-04:00

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

2006-10-06T09:03:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-28T10:04:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-22T10:14:00.001-04:00

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

2006-09-20T11:58:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-18T09:04:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-13T15:46:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-12T10:29:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-07T20:17:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-05T09:09:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-02T10:41:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-01T10:32:00.000-04:00

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

2006-08-29T09:38:00.000-04:00

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...

2006-08-28T09:38:00.000-04:00

“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

2006-08-25T09:21:00.000-04:00

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

2006-08-24T09:44:00.000-04:00

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

2006-08-23T09:06:00.000-04:00

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

2006-08-22T07:58:00.000-04:00

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

2006-08-21T08:36:00.000-04:00

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

2006-08-18T09:29:00.000-04:00

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

2006-08-15T15:38:00.000-04:00

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

2006-08-15T15:32:00.000-04:00

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

2006-08-15T15:28:00.000-04:00

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

2006-08-15T15:21:00.000-04:00

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

2006-08-08T15:53:00.000-04:00

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

2006-08-07T22:04:00.000-04:00

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.