I'm sitting here pondering this age thing. I'm older. Sixty seven to be exact. The good news is that my wonderful husband, whom I never give enough credit, tells me I could easily pass for early 50's. So, put 2 and 2 together. Anyway, getting older is just a subject not many want to talk about.
So, I'm thinking about all of this because today is Mother's Day and instead of feeling like I'm this great mother, the guilt is piled up while the resentments sit deep within. (That should be a whole 'nother blog.) My best friend is actually my sister who is, yes, younger than me, and probably the exact opposite of me. Yet we laugh, and face time and love each other well. She's my best friend because she understands my frustrations and doesn't try to fix them, or me. She never has. What a treasure!!
When you are older, you feel like you're disappearing, and in a way, you really are. I mean at sixty seven my life is coming to end. I may have 20 or 25 years if I'm lucky. Undeniably, the truth is, it's downhill from here on out. Believe me, those years fly! But it's not like those 25 years are the prime years...they are ending years. So that means when you're with people who are younger than you, there is not much you really have in common. They don't care about your life because theirs is so full of 'things' and obligations, and keeping the little humans alive. So at my age we try to be tolerable, quiet, and stay clear of drama. I'm not so sure I like this role. Not because I'm a fan of drama, but because I have very little in common with the young in my family.
I need friends my own age who don't act their age. That's the problem! I still am game for risks, I still want adventure, although it does seem scary. I have so much I've learned from years of mistakes if only "they" would hear me out. But for the most part, they don't. Just like I didn't hear my own parents out. But my own parents didn't try to teach me from their mistakes. Why? Because they knew that I probably wouldn't listen. I sure the hell do now. I look back at my mother and go over and over words she said, and speculate on the words she didn't say. She knew what I'm finding out now...they don't listen....they have to find out for themselves. My mom, my lovely mother, did her best and that was amazing. I wish I had listened more and took heed.
My mother died when she was four years older than I am now. My father died when he was three years younger than I am now. I miss them and wish I could run so much past them to see what they'd say, or see what they'd advise. Instead, I run it by my sweet sister; what does she say? Exactly what makes me feel better...what makes me feel valued and loved. She intuitively knows what I need, what will make me smile when I feel like crying. What a great sister !
So that's it for now. Stay strong and stay in love with yourself and life.
Sunday, May 12, 2019
Tuesday, March 19, 2019
Eating and The Little Girl Wanting to Be Heard
It seems like it's been a while since my last post. I guess it feels like a while only because I'm always writing in my head; that's how I think, in blog posts. Anyway, it's a beautiful day in the valley and I'm going to see one of my most favorite authors speak tonight, Anne Lamott. I'm really excited. At the ripe old age of late 60's, I still owe my soul to the company store but am on Spring Break this week. So, tonight's event and Spring break I can say life is good right now.
Let me fill you in on my new endeavor; raw vegan. Well, I'm trying, and it's my first day. Yeah, that's right, my first day. Don't scoff! So there ya have it. I have realized I have had to do something about my careless eating habits for a while, especially since I recently decided to venture on the scale. I have not been intentional about what I eat. It's been more like feeding a spoiled baby who demands chocolate anytime, any place she wants. Not pretty! Since I was a little girl I've loved veggies, nuts and fruits. I remember at my great grandmother's house playing like I was an adult and fixing my own meals in my apartment which was her basement. She had this 1920's like camp stove down there. Her basement and attic were the things imaginations thrived on. I loved her home. Anyway, so I would go out into the yard and fix a "salad" and put all sorts of colorful things from nature in that bowl. Because it was the late '50's and we were only supposed to eat processed foods in my house, well, almost all processed, I knew not to put a bite into my mouth. I could be poisoned. But I fantasized that was what the good food was all about.Here I am in my 60's going back to those green leaves, nuts and berries. They may not be the same ones, Not sure, but those earthy things appeal to me.
I might add, when I was a wee thing, I would NEVER eat meat...I mean I would try not to. My mother made me eat it, but I would throw it on the floor for the dogs when she wasn't looking. That was the only way to be excused from the table. The red meat she would cook and serve looked like road kill to me and I couldn't stomach it. Needless to say, I was skinny. Not now. Now, sixty years later, I have learned to eat what doesn't appeal to me, and have it appeal to me, and grow sick and fat. In my defense however, I still chose thick brown bread over the white, processed imitation breads served in the late 50's and early 60's.
Of course I did crave sugar. As soon as my bike could take me to Pease's Candy Store I would buy all the penny candy my meager spending money would allow. But, that's all I could eat...just the sugar. Except when I went to my grandmother's and great grandmother's. They made what we now consider whole foods. At least until canned goods became the fashion. That was also the time McDonalds started showing it's arches and food was something that didn't satisfy; you just wanted more. At least I always wanted more after eating those skinny little fries and hamburger patty from McoDnalds. Food wasn't like that at my grandmother's though. Her food was the best. And my great-grandmother? Her home-made pineapple oatmeal cookies were a dream. Only one cookie and you were full and satisfied.
Food has always been an issue for me. Eating at my grandmother's and great mother's meant all is well in the world. Eating at home meant there was never enough, and sugar was the addiction of a nine year old.
When I was a hippy I tried the "macro-biotic diet where you were to eat mainly brown rice. You chewed it until it turned back into water. You shopped at a local hippy co-op because 'health food stores' were for weird people and there was maybe one in my town. My friend and I would sit in our little apartment on the wrong side of town, chew rice until it turned into water, smoked 'herbs" and then bake bread and eat it with honey until we were satisfied. Oh those were the days, (right Carol?)
Then in the early 70' s everything changed and I was told to get a grip, quit being an idealistic hippy and join society. So I did. The good thing that came from that was I quit smoking cigs, but gained 20 lbs. And so it goes.
Here I am, as you know, in my late 60's searching for that little girl again who knew her own tastes, knew herself without a thought; who didn't question herself. I know she's buried under the guises of wanting to conform for false security's sake. She's under there somewhere and really trying to tell me to come back. I'm listening to her now. What have I to lose? I listened to her 35 years ago when she told me I didn't have to eat meat anymore; then my mother was no longer there telling me I couldn't be excused from the table unless I took some bites of the swiss steak.
So, it's time to go listen to Anne. You all have a great week and maybe, if you're lucky, I'll keep you updated on this whole eating thing. Bye for now.
Let me fill you in on my new endeavor; raw vegan. Well, I'm trying, and it's my first day. Yeah, that's right, my first day. Don't scoff! So there ya have it. I have realized I have had to do something about my careless eating habits for a while, especially since I recently decided to venture on the scale. I have not been intentional about what I eat. It's been more like feeding a spoiled baby who demands chocolate anytime, any place she wants. Not pretty! Since I was a little girl I've loved veggies, nuts and fruits. I remember at my great grandmother's house playing like I was an adult and fixing my own meals in my apartment which was her basement. She had this 1920's like camp stove down there. Her basement and attic were the things imaginations thrived on. I loved her home. Anyway, so I would go out into the yard and fix a "salad" and put all sorts of colorful things from nature in that bowl. Because it was the late '50's and we were only supposed to eat processed foods in my house, well, almost all processed, I knew not to put a bite into my mouth. I could be poisoned. But I fantasized that was what the good food was all about.Here I am in my 60's going back to those green leaves, nuts and berries. They may not be the same ones, Not sure, but those earthy things appeal to me.
I might add, when I was a wee thing, I would NEVER eat meat...I mean I would try not to. My mother made me eat it, but I would throw it on the floor for the dogs when she wasn't looking. That was the only way to be excused from the table. The red meat she would cook and serve looked like road kill to me and I couldn't stomach it. Needless to say, I was skinny. Not now. Now, sixty years later, I have learned to eat what doesn't appeal to me, and have it appeal to me, and grow sick and fat. In my defense however, I still chose thick brown bread over the white, processed imitation breads served in the late 50's and early 60's.
Of course I did crave sugar. As soon as my bike could take me to Pease's Candy Store I would buy all the penny candy my meager spending money would allow. But, that's all I could eat...just the sugar. Except when I went to my grandmother's and great grandmother's. They made what we now consider whole foods. At least until canned goods became the fashion. That was also the time McDonalds started showing it's arches and food was something that didn't satisfy; you just wanted more. At least I always wanted more after eating those skinny little fries and hamburger patty from McoDnalds. Food wasn't like that at my grandmother's though. Her food was the best. And my great-grandmother? Her home-made pineapple oatmeal cookies were a dream. Only one cookie and you were full and satisfied.
Food has always been an issue for me. Eating at my grandmother's and great mother's meant all is well in the world. Eating at home meant there was never enough, and sugar was the addiction of a nine year old.
When I was a hippy I tried the "macro-biotic diet where you were to eat mainly brown rice. You chewed it until it turned back into water. You shopped at a local hippy co-op because 'health food stores' were for weird people and there was maybe one in my town. My friend and I would sit in our little apartment on the wrong side of town, chew rice until it turned into water, smoked 'herbs" and then bake bread and eat it with honey until we were satisfied. Oh those were the days, (right Carol?)
Then in the early 70' s everything changed and I was told to get a grip, quit being an idealistic hippy and join society. So I did. The good thing that came from that was I quit smoking cigs, but gained 20 lbs. And so it goes.
Here I am, as you know, in my late 60's searching for that little girl again who knew her own tastes, knew herself without a thought; who didn't question herself. I know she's buried under the guises of wanting to conform for false security's sake. She's under there somewhere and really trying to tell me to come back. I'm listening to her now. What have I to lose? I listened to her 35 years ago when she told me I didn't have to eat meat anymore; then my mother was no longer there telling me I couldn't be excused from the table unless I took some bites of the swiss steak.
So, it's time to go listen to Anne. You all have a great week and maybe, if you're lucky, I'll keep you updated on this whole eating thing. Bye for now.
Saturday, January 12, 2019
Cosmetic Procedures and Growing Old Gracefully
Last evening I was sitting in a doctor's chair watching as he began to bend over me with a long, sharp, glistening needle. After telling me to wrinkle up my face, he proceeded to stick me about 25 times in the face with the painful object. As I winced, I told him, "I was the oldest of three daughters. My father always said my one sister, a few years younger than me, was the 'stable one', my littlest sister about seven years younger than myself was the intelligent, talented one. Me? I was the" pretty one." I proceeded to tell the doctor, and I have no idea why I said this, "See what words do? Self fulfilling prophecy!" Before you start to judge or try to compassionately analyze why I do what I do, read on with an open mind.
This was the umpteenth time I was getting Botox in my forehead, and Juvaderm in my marionette lines. These types of cosmetic procedures have been a part of my life for the past fifteen years. Fortunately, in those past fifteen years the attitude of society has changed. Years ago they were seen as selfish and a bit narcissistic. If I would bring up the fact that I was considering having something done, some of the responses I heard were, "Why do this to yourself?", "You're beautiful as you are", "So sad you want to do this. What happened to you that caused you to be insecure?" Or worse, "I'm proud of my grey hair and wrinkles, I've earned them!" And this was usually said in a firm voice after discussing or seeing someone who looks younger than they actually are.
Of course, I have no regrets regarding the numerous times I've had fillers. I'm happy society is viewing cosmetic work with much more of an open mind. Growing old gracefully isn't about how many wrinkles you have or don't have. It's not about grey hair, colored hair, or no hair. It's not about thin and muscular, or heavy and soft. Growing old gracefully is about how much a person has learned over the years. Growing old gracefully is how you treat others, how you use the pain you have experienced in your long years to help or forgive others. It's about whether or not you've stayed vulnersble in spite of life's difficult journey. It's about being loving, gracious, open minded, inclusive in your humanity. It's about how well you love yourself and others.
This was the umpteenth time I was getting Botox in my forehead, and Juvaderm in my marionette lines. These types of cosmetic procedures have been a part of my life for the past fifteen years. Fortunately, in those past fifteen years the attitude of society has changed. Years ago they were seen as selfish and a bit narcissistic. If I would bring up the fact that I was considering having something done, some of the responses I heard were, "Why do this to yourself?", "You're beautiful as you are", "So sad you want to do this. What happened to you that caused you to be insecure?" Or worse, "I'm proud of my grey hair and wrinkles, I've earned them!" And this was usually said in a firm voice after discussing or seeing someone who looks younger than they actually are.
Of course, I have no regrets regarding the numerous times I've had fillers. I'm happy society is viewing cosmetic work with much more of an open mind. Growing old gracefully isn't about how many wrinkles you have or don't have. It's not about grey hair, colored hair, or no hair. It's not about thin and muscular, or heavy and soft. Growing old gracefully is about how much a person has learned over the years. Growing old gracefully is how you treat others, how you use the pain you have experienced in your long years to help or forgive others. It's about whether or not you've stayed vulnersble in spite of life's difficult journey. It's about being loving, gracious, open minded, inclusive in your humanity. It's about how well you love yourself and others.
If you are someone who has grown old gracefully, people will feel comfortable around you, they'll feel free to talk to you without having to worry about being judged. People who grow old gracefully are always kind.
I've let go of trying to analyze why I do the things I do. At this stage in my life, my goal is to love the stranger, no matter what. My goal is to grow old gracefully on the inside!
Getting back to my procedures; I'm not gonna lie, I love them. The results make me happy when I look myself inthemirror. . They make me happy and realize how fortunate I am to be able to have them. While I play around with the outside of myself, I take seriously the inside. I judge myself and have a standard I strive to attain. And that standard is to love well!
Hey! Thanks for reading. xoxoxo
I've let go of trying to analyze why I do the things I do. At this stage in my life, my goal is to love the stranger, no matter what. My goal is to grow old gracefully on the inside!
Getting back to my procedures; I'm not gonna lie, I love them. The results make me happy when I look myself inthemirror. . They make me happy and realize how fortunate I am to be able to have them. While I play around with the outside of myself, I take seriously the inside. I judge myself and have a standard I strive to attain. And that standard is to love well!
Hey! Thanks for reading. xoxoxo
Friday, December 7, 2018
Christmas In a 1960's Midwest Town
Why do I always get nostalgic in a very melancholy way at Christmas? It never fails. Is it because the memories happened so long ago? I always think back to childhood, teen years and my early twenties. Christmas at my parent's house anticipated with excitement and love. Always! I have such fond memories.
Boyfriends were always welcome, food was rich and plentiful, gift giving seemed to never end, and heated debates thrived. It wasn't just my parents home though. It was the certainty of togetheress, the midnight masses, and of course, the boyfriend who would go to midnight mass with me. He was Dave and he too was a generous giver. He died in a car wreck in 1969; from then on Christmases became a little pensive for me. Especially at first.
I must say though, getting older is something I was not prepared for. I mean of course I knew it would happen, but just didn't know how very wistful it can be. All of the support I had from my parents, my grandparents and my siblings. Now I'm the support system except of course, I still have my amazing siblings. My sisters are the best but they're so far away. We can't recreate what was in the past. The long wait for Christmases, the joy and excitement of gifts, and the youthful, passionate conversations. I don't think we had a clue of how fleeting it all would be.
Maybe I grieve for what will never be again. Don't get me wrong, I am thankful and blessed to have my own young family with kids and grandkids to share memories. But it goes by so fast doesn't it? I miss my youth, I miss my parents and grandparents and even my boyfriend who died. It didn't seem fair. But life goes on; do I know that! New memories are made,love still abounds, but still, I'm not going to minimize the reflections of my past, of the times and of the simplicity. I didn't care who was president then, the war in Viet Nam was just starting, and I always tried not to think of how the world, my world, was changing very quickly too; changing from a global perspective to my own little bubble. Now I can't help but see that change is always and forever in my face. Literally as well as figuratively.
Looking around at how things are now I must say that I'm an optimist who hasn't arrived yet. We have someone who is head of the United States who seems like a complete and total jerk. After all, that family doesn't even have a dog, that's a huge red flag!! Not to mention his sons go out and kill beautiful wild animals just so they can stuff the heads for tropheys in their obscenely expensive homes. I won't go on.
Soooo while I'm still a tiny bit positive, I'll close with this: The Dream Academy's song, "Life In a Northern Town". Makes me teary eyed every time. Merry Christmas world.
Boyfriends were always welcome, food was rich and plentiful, gift giving seemed to never end, and heated debates thrived. It wasn't just my parents home though. It was the certainty of togetheress, the midnight masses, and of course, the boyfriend who would go to midnight mass with me. He was Dave and he too was a generous giver. He died in a car wreck in 1969; from then on Christmases became a little pensive for me. Especially at first.
I must say though, getting older is something I was not prepared for. I mean of course I knew it would happen, but just didn't know how very wistful it can be. All of the support I had from my parents, my grandparents and my siblings. Now I'm the support system except of course, I still have my amazing siblings. My sisters are the best but they're so far away. We can't recreate what was in the past. The long wait for Christmases, the joy and excitement of gifts, and the youthful, passionate conversations. I don't think we had a clue of how fleeting it all would be.
Maybe I grieve for what will never be again. Don't get me wrong, I am thankful and blessed to have my own young family with kids and grandkids to share memories. But it goes by so fast doesn't it? I miss my youth, I miss my parents and grandparents and even my boyfriend who died. It didn't seem fair. But life goes on; do I know that! New memories are made,love still abounds, but still, I'm not going to minimize the reflections of my past, of the times and of the simplicity. I didn't care who was president then, the war in Viet Nam was just starting, and I always tried not to think of how the world, my world, was changing very quickly too; changing from a global perspective to my own little bubble. Now I can't help but see that change is always and forever in my face. Literally as well as figuratively.
Looking around at how things are now I must say that I'm an optimist who hasn't arrived yet. We have someone who is head of the United States who seems like a complete and total jerk. After all, that family doesn't even have a dog, that's a huge red flag!! Not to mention his sons go out and kill beautiful wild animals just so they can stuff the heads for tropheys in their obscenely expensive homes. I won't go on.
Soooo while I'm still a tiny bit positive, I'll close with this: The Dream Academy's song, "Life In a Northern Town". Makes me teary eyed every time. Merry Christmas world.
Saturday, November 17, 2018
Our Families, Our Lives, Our Roles
A few days ago my mother in law died. She had been sick for years, but still, it is always sad; death is! Although we weren't close, in the last ten years I had made peace with her and learned to appreciate who she really was, what she had been through and how she became who she was; strong, a survivor.
But the reason I'm writing is mainly about family. Because of Myra's death, our kids and inlaws came together to support my husband, their father and father-in-law, in light of his and their loss. After our beautiful dinner I reflected on how utterly short life is. When I finished cleaning up and before I actually sat down to listen to the conversations going on, I looked at my phone and saw a post my nephew put on facebook. It was a picture of his father and himself years ago. His remarks under the picture said, "I can't believe it's been twenty years." Jim, his father, died twenty years ago. Seeing the picture heightened my feeling of being in a pensive sort of mood, melancholy.
Looking up from my phone was a dreamy, almost surreal sight. It was as if I was a character in a play watching myself and others perform. I glanced at my family; lively, conversations strong and varying, kids playing, candles lit and what I can only describe as an etherial haze over the room. I used to be the parent of the kids playing. I used to be one of the charasmatic wanna-be conversationalists who spoke with passion and certainty about anything from fashion to the political atmosphere of the world.
I thought of my mother. She used to sit, like I was at that moment, and let the activities go, the conversations flow, and the debates happen. She played the part of an observer. But not always. At one time, long before I knew her, she was a fiestly , pretty little rebel who ran away from her small Illinois town and went to Chicago looking for her dream. A Catholic girl full of charm, beauty intelligence and passion who wound up marrying a strong Jewish guy who wore a black leather jacket. He was from the Jewish ghetto and had his own dreams of fame. She really was way before her time. I believe that instead of being a mother of four, she would have been happier as an extremely successful career woman, although she never would have admitted that.
My husband losing his mother caused me realize yet again, how long it has been since I haven't been able to hear my mother's voice or sit with her alone, just her and me, at her kitchen table and share our lives. Mostly me sharing mine... and I missed her...yet as all daughters do one time or another, I have become her. During family gatherings at her home, most of the time she remained quiet, cleaned up and then listened. For a few times last night I felt like I was disappearing....invisible. Surely my mother must have felt that way. Not many times did anyone ask her opinion, or inquire about what things were like when she was young. Sometimes, when it was just her and myself, she would tell me about her life before me, about her boyfriends, how she would manipulate her way out of having to do chores, and how her father would sit up and wait for her to come home from dates, sitting in the dark, with his cigarette lighting up through the window. Once when my father and her were seperated, she told me how she went out with one of her more exicitng friends, and how much fun they had. Her eyes would alway light up when she told stories about her own life, full of memories and lost opportunites.
That's what happens when you get old. The people with their kids, their busy lives and their young worlds lead the conversations and, I'm assuming, go home and perhaps reflect a little on what they said. Or maybe not. With time, roles change, hopefully we become wiser, more patient, more loving, more tolerant. But definitley roles change and you're never ready to play a different part, but it's inevitable.
I regret not listening more when I was younger, to my mother, my father, my grandmother and great grandmother. I regret not asking more questions about their lives, their opinions what life was like when they were young...the world situation and how it affected them. I regret not savoring moments of passion, youth and the feeling I could change the world.
Life and family teach us so much, but usually it's when we look back in retrospect.
I'll end with a quote from one of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott...a quote from her new book, "Almost Everything"
" If the earth is forgiveness school, family is your postdoctoral fellowship. The family is the crucible in which these strange entities called identities are formed, who we are and aren't but agreed to be. Enen in what might pass as a good family, every member is consigned a number of roles intended to keep the boat of family afloat, which because of the ship's rats - gentics, bad behavior, and mental illness - is not as easy as it sounds. It's the hardest work we do, forgivng our circumstances, our families, and ourselves. And forgiveness is hardest of all."
But the reason I'm writing is mainly about family. Because of Myra's death, our kids and inlaws came together to support my husband, their father and father-in-law, in light of his and their loss. After our beautiful dinner I reflected on how utterly short life is. When I finished cleaning up and before I actually sat down to listen to the conversations going on, I looked at my phone and saw a post my nephew put on facebook. It was a picture of his father and himself years ago. His remarks under the picture said, "I can't believe it's been twenty years." Jim, his father, died twenty years ago. Seeing the picture heightened my feeling of being in a pensive sort of mood, melancholy.
Looking up from my phone was a dreamy, almost surreal sight. It was as if I was a character in a play watching myself and others perform. I glanced at my family; lively, conversations strong and varying, kids playing, candles lit and what I can only describe as an etherial haze over the room. I used to be the parent of the kids playing. I used to be one of the charasmatic wanna-be conversationalists who spoke with passion and certainty about anything from fashion to the political atmosphere of the world.
I thought of my mother. She used to sit, like I was at that moment, and let the activities go, the conversations flow, and the debates happen. She played the part of an observer. But not always. At one time, long before I knew her, she was a fiestly , pretty little rebel who ran away from her small Illinois town and went to Chicago looking for her dream. A Catholic girl full of charm, beauty intelligence and passion who wound up marrying a strong Jewish guy who wore a black leather jacket. He was from the Jewish ghetto and had his own dreams of fame. She really was way before her time. I believe that instead of being a mother of four, she would have been happier as an extremely successful career woman, although she never would have admitted that.
My husband losing his mother caused me realize yet again, how long it has been since I haven't been able to hear my mother's voice or sit with her alone, just her and me, at her kitchen table and share our lives. Mostly me sharing mine... and I missed her...yet as all daughters do one time or another, I have become her. During family gatherings at her home, most of the time she remained quiet, cleaned up and then listened. For a few times last night I felt like I was disappearing....invisible. Surely my mother must have felt that way. Not many times did anyone ask her opinion, or inquire about what things were like when she was young. Sometimes, when it was just her and myself, she would tell me about her life before me, about her boyfriends, how she would manipulate her way out of having to do chores, and how her father would sit up and wait for her to come home from dates, sitting in the dark, with his cigarette lighting up through the window. Once when my father and her were seperated, she told me how she went out with one of her more exicitng friends, and how much fun they had. Her eyes would alway light up when she told stories about her own life, full of memories and lost opportunites.
That's what happens when you get old. The people with their kids, their busy lives and their young worlds lead the conversations and, I'm assuming, go home and perhaps reflect a little on what they said. Or maybe not. With time, roles change, hopefully we become wiser, more patient, more loving, more tolerant. But definitley roles change and you're never ready to play a different part, but it's inevitable.
I regret not listening more when I was younger, to my mother, my father, my grandmother and great grandmother. I regret not asking more questions about their lives, their opinions what life was like when they were young...the world situation and how it affected them. I regret not savoring moments of passion, youth and the feeling I could change the world.
Life and family teach us so much, but usually it's when we look back in retrospect.
I'll end with a quote from one of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott...a quote from her new book, "Almost Everything"
" If the earth is forgiveness school, family is your postdoctoral fellowship. The family is the crucible in which these strange entities called identities are formed, who we are and aren't but agreed to be. Enen in what might pass as a good family, every member is consigned a number of roles intended to keep the boat of family afloat, which because of the ship's rats - gentics, bad behavior, and mental illness - is not as easy as it sounds. It's the hardest work we do, forgivng our circumstances, our families, and ourselves. And forgiveness is hardest of all."
Saturday, September 29, 2018
Days When All We Did Would Never End
So, today is my 67th birhday. It's just weird .... life. The older I get the more time seems surreal. It seems like people can get a lot more sentimental when they age; I know I do. My daughter posted a picture of her and myself sitting on our couch so many years ago. I believe I was in my late 20s.
What a great picture!! It doesn't seem that long ago. When I was in my 30's I said I had no regrets. Then in my 50's I had so many....and now, I just say it is what it is, it was what it was. Because I know I can't change anything. I can't turn back time. However, IF I were able to give my young self some advice it would be this:
Love well....Study ways you can love more.
Love yourself or you won't be able to love anyone else.
ALWAYS MOVE TOWARDS LOVE!
Say kind things.
Brainwash yourself. No, I mean it. Wash your brain of negative thinking. It's easy to be negative, be positive no matter how hard you have work at it.
BE AN INDEPENDENT WOMAN!! Make your own money, have a career...something you love. Work at it all the time and be a strong example for your daughter, for your son. Show the world women don't depend on men.
Find a good counselor and go to her. A lot. Whether you think you need to or not.
Brush your dog's teeth, respect your animals, they are NOT here to serve you; although they give such amazing, unconditional love!
Don't eat animals.
Drink wine.
Laugh more and don't make apologies for who you are, for not wanting to spend words on trival things that don't matter.
It's okay to care too much, don't listen to people who say "You're too sensitive" and ALWAYS have boundaries.
Don't be religious but be spiriutal.
Let your children know that God loves them unconditionally and DO NOT SPANK THEM. If someone tells you to, run!! Run far away from those people.
Spend more time with your parents. Ask them about their lives before you. Hug them and tell them you love them.
Keep praying...for the rest of your life. Even though your prayers will change, keep praying. Know God is a mystery and you don't always have the answers. Know that God is love.
Know that the fear of God is not being afraid of things or of being "bad", but that it is a mighty respect for a power greater than you; a mystery greater than you can comprehend. But ALWAYS know God is love.
Know that the will of God is to love and be loved...it's simple....but not so easy.
LOVE YOURSELF!!!! WALK AWAY WHEN IT'S TIME!!!
Let your children go. Give them all that you can to help them make it through this life REMEMBER! THEY DIDN'T ASK TO BE HERE. YOU WANTED TO CREATE A CHILD. You could have adopted, there are plenty of children already here.
Always be honest...as best you can. Especially with yourself.
Lastly, growing old gracefully doesn't mean loving your wrinkles. Love them if you do, but if you don't, that's okay. Do something about it. Keep fit, lift weights, eat right, get botox, take care of your teeth, and read.
What a great picture!! It doesn't seem that long ago. When I was in my 30's I said I had no regrets. Then in my 50's I had so many....and now, I just say it is what it is, it was what it was. Because I know I can't change anything. I can't turn back time. However, IF I were able to give my young self some advice it would be this:
Love well....Study ways you can love more.
Love yourself or you won't be able to love anyone else.
ALWAYS MOVE TOWARDS LOVE!
Say kind things.
Brainwash yourself. No, I mean it. Wash your brain of negative thinking. It's easy to be negative, be positive no matter how hard you have work at it.
BE AN INDEPENDENT WOMAN!! Make your own money, have a career...something you love. Work at it all the time and be a strong example for your daughter, for your son. Show the world women don't depend on men.
Find a good counselor and go to her. A lot. Whether you think you need to or not.
Brush your dog's teeth, respect your animals, they are NOT here to serve you; although they give such amazing, unconditional love!
Don't eat animals.
Drink wine.
Laugh more and don't make apologies for who you are, for not wanting to spend words on trival things that don't matter.
It's okay to care too much, don't listen to people who say "You're too sensitive" and ALWAYS have boundaries.
Don't be religious but be spiriutal.
Let your children know that God loves them unconditionally and DO NOT SPANK THEM. If someone tells you to, run!! Run far away from those people.
Spend more time with your parents. Ask them about their lives before you. Hug them and tell them you love them.
Keep praying...for the rest of your life. Even though your prayers will change, keep praying. Know God is a mystery and you don't always have the answers. Know that God is love.
Know that the fear of God is not being afraid of things or of being "bad", but that it is a mighty respect for a power greater than you; a mystery greater than you can comprehend. But ALWAYS know God is love.
Know that the will of God is to love and be loved...it's simple....but not so easy.
LOVE YOURSELF!!!! WALK AWAY WHEN IT'S TIME!!!
Let your children go. Give them all that you can to help them make it through this life REMEMBER! THEY DIDN'T ASK TO BE HERE. YOU WANTED TO CREATE A CHILD. You could have adopted, there are plenty of children already here.
Always be honest...as best you can. Especially with yourself.
Expectations breed disapointment and rules and regulations breed rebellion. Not always, but just keep that in mind.
Lastly, growing old gracefully doesn't mean loving your wrinkles. Love them if you do, but if you don't, that's okay. Do something about it. Keep fit, lift weights, eat right, get botox, take care of your teeth, and read.
Grow spiritually because soon, you will only be spirit.
It's a long list, I know. But I wish someone had told me those things when I was a young thing. I will tell my grand-kids for sure.
So, it's a beautiful day, I"m chillin' alone and I like it that way. My husband and I will go to one of my favorite vegan resturaunts tonight and then to a party celebrating my sweet Riley's 21st. (She is family). Life is good, but way too short.
Thank you Shauna for the picture. Made me nostalgic and gave me inspiration to bring out the thoughts and feelings of my heart.
Of course I'll end with a Dave song. (I would love to see him before I get too old to care.)
These are the lyrics...but I hope you listen to the melody, it's like the color in a painting...
It's a long list, I know. But I wish someone had told me those things when I was a young thing. I will tell my grand-kids for sure.
So, it's a beautiful day, I"m chillin' alone and I like it that way. My husband and I will go to one of my favorite vegan resturaunts tonight and then to a party celebrating my sweet Riley's 21st. (She is family). Life is good, but way too short.
Thank you Shauna for the picture. Made me nostalgic and gave me inspiration to bring out the thoughts and feelings of my heart.
Of course I'll end with a Dave song. (I would love to see him before I get too old to care.)
These are the lyrics...but I hope you listen to the melody, it's like the color in a painting...
Bring that beat back to me again
Take me back, take me back, can't catch me, can't catch me
Take me back, take me back, can't catch me, can't catch me
Ride my bike down that old dirt hill
First time without my trainin' wheels
First time I kissed you I lost my legs (can't catch me)
Bring that beat back to me again
First time without my trainin' wheels
First time I kissed you I lost my legs (can't catch me)
Bring that beat back to me again
Screamin', shoutin', louder innocence
Days when all we did would never end
Days when all we did would never end
Oh when it gets hard
Thursday, June 28, 2018
Little Talks
The hate and greed of politics amaze me. The discussions on social media have become more and more predominate and are filled with dark despair of disunity. They have become a funnel cloud of doom with no real motive or purpose other than to cause enmity. All the passionate opinions from the right and left are like wildfire of mentally disturbing ideas and judgments! It seems that, instead of bringing elucidation and a need for solutions, they have done the exact opposite. Yet both sides feel their motives are pure and right.
It dawned on me; like the sun coming out after a torrential rain; if we were all ....all of us....everywhere....were to sit down at a table, or several tables in groups, and truly discussed solutions to our country's problems, maybe, just maybe we would find workable answers that we agree on. Hope is being able to see light despite all the darkness, according to Desmond Tutu.
I really don't believe there can be hope when we consider the nature of politics...the goal of politics. Isn't it power? A politician would become poison at that table. We can all agree on that right? Imaginably, people who engage in a career of politics perhaps do so with a relatively pure motive in the beginning. They believe they can "fix" things, make things better. Then it seems ego and the deadly game becomes all too real. They find out that the childhood monsters they thought once were real, really are real and have outgrown their closet. And alas! They are lost in a game that's bigger than they are. So, either get out, or play to survive and feed the ego that once was a pure motive.
In my most passionate moments of disagreements, I struggled very seriously to move in kindness and love. I must admit, many times I fail. I have also considered putting my head in the proverbial sand and not being a part of any discussion that isn't pleasant. But that's not my nature. I usually try to face things head on and just deal with them. It's difficult to do in the Facebook forum...or any forum for that matter, without coming away feeling heavy, hopeless and negative. So, recently I had a private conversation with someone who I thought had other values than my own. When we actually chatted, I found I had misunderstood a lot of his ideas. I found we had more in common than I thought we did. Although we disagree in some areas of resolution, we both have the same heart of compassion. I didn't know that before I decided to engage in a discussion.
It's so easy to be negative in any situation. Gravity proves that if you're in a higher place and you're trying to pull someone up to where you are, it's easier for you to fall down to his/her level. Every morning when I wake, the oppressive cloud of what is happening in our country hits me hard, hits me and tries to take over my open heart. My heart that is trying to stay vulnerable.
I wish, I really do, that we could all sit and discuss with hope in our hearts, and a pure motive of love; love of freedom, love of this country, and love for each other, our future. Our children's future, our grand children's future. I would like for us to be an example to future generations that we can do this if we stay open, loving and kind toward each other. We can do this if we really want to see answers and solutions. Maybe if these "little talks" would spread like wildfire instead of passionate, hopeless opinions and useless judgments, maybe, just maybe America would be great again.
I tell you what, I have a pretty huge dining table. Maybe I'll................
"Mercy"
Singing, mercy will we overcome this
Oh, one by one, could we turn it around
Maybe carry on just a little bit longer
And I’ll try to give you what you need
Me and you, and you, and you just wanna be free
But you see, all the world is just as we’ve made it
And until we got a new world I’ve got to say
That love is not a whisper or a weakness
No, love is strong, so we got to get together
Yeah, gotta get, gotta get, gotta get
‘Til there is no reason to fight
Have we come too far to turn it around
Ask too much to be a little bit stronger
But I wanna give you what you need
Mercy, what will become of us
Oh, one by one, could we turn it around
Maybe carry on just a little bit longer
And I’ll try to give you what you need
It dawned on me; like the sun coming out after a torrential rain; if we were all ....all of us....everywhere....were to sit down at a table, or several tables in groups, and truly discussed solutions to our country's problems, maybe, just maybe we would find workable answers that we agree on. Hope is being able to see light despite all the darkness, according to Desmond Tutu.
I really don't believe there can be hope when we consider the nature of politics...the goal of politics. Isn't it power? A politician would become poison at that table. We can all agree on that right? Imaginably, people who engage in a career of politics perhaps do so with a relatively pure motive in the beginning. They believe they can "fix" things, make things better. Then it seems ego and the deadly game becomes all too real. They find out that the childhood monsters they thought once were real, really are real and have outgrown their closet. And alas! They are lost in a game that's bigger than they are. So, either get out, or play to survive and feed the ego that once was a pure motive.
In my most passionate moments of disagreements, I struggled very seriously to move in kindness and love. I must admit, many times I fail. I have also considered putting my head in the proverbial sand and not being a part of any discussion that isn't pleasant. But that's not my nature. I usually try to face things head on and just deal with them. It's difficult to do in the Facebook forum...or any forum for that matter, without coming away feeling heavy, hopeless and negative. So, recently I had a private conversation with someone who I thought had other values than my own. When we actually chatted, I found I had misunderstood a lot of his ideas. I found we had more in common than I thought we did. Although we disagree in some areas of resolution, we both have the same heart of compassion. I didn't know that before I decided to engage in a discussion.
It's so easy to be negative in any situation. Gravity proves that if you're in a higher place and you're trying to pull someone up to where you are, it's easier for you to fall down to his/her level. Every morning when I wake, the oppressive cloud of what is happening in our country hits me hard, hits me and tries to take over my open heart. My heart that is trying to stay vulnerable.
I wish, I really do, that we could all sit and discuss with hope in our hearts, and a pure motive of love; love of freedom, love of this country, and love for each other, our future. Our children's future, our grand children's future. I would like for us to be an example to future generations that we can do this if we stay open, loving and kind toward each other. We can do this if we really want to see answers and solutions. Maybe if these "little talks" would spread like wildfire instead of passionate, hopeless opinions and useless judgments, maybe, just maybe America would be great again.
I tell you what, I have a pretty huge dining table. Maybe I'll................
"Mercy"
Don’t give up, I know you can see
All the world and the mess that we’re making
Can’t give up and hope God will intercede
Come on back, imagine that we could get it together
Stand up for what we need to be
‘Cause crime won’t save or feed a hungry child
Can’t lay down and wait for a miracle to change things
So lift up your eyes, lift up your heart
All the world and the mess that we’re making
Can’t give up and hope God will intercede
Come on back, imagine that we could get it together
Stand up for what we need to be
‘Cause crime won’t save or feed a hungry child
Can’t lay down and wait for a miracle to change things
So lift up your eyes, lift up your heart
Singing, mercy will we overcome this
Oh, one by one, could we turn it around
Maybe carry on just a little bit longer
And I’ll try to give you what you need
Me and you, and you, and you just wanna be free
But you see, all the world is just as we’ve made it
And until we got a new world I’ve got to say
That love is not a whisper or a weakness
No, love is strong, so we got to get together
Yeah, gotta get, gotta get, gotta get
‘Til there is no reason to fight
Have we come too far to turn it around
Ask too much to be a little bit stronger
But I wanna give you what you need
Mercy, what will become of us
Oh, one by one, could we turn it around
Maybe carry on just a little bit longer
And I’ll try to give you what you need
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