Love Letter

    Reflecting on the images of Valentine’s Day, the chocolates scanned at the cash register, men staring at the card rack putting card after card back into the slots and the florist vans scurrying up and down the streets, my mind drifted to love letters. The trees are shrouded in hoar frost this morning and the bunnies have left their foot print necklaces upon the snow. Valentine’s has come a day early and here is the love letter left to me, to you and to all.

“I am here. I cannot promise that I will be here tomorrow. If I am not, it will not be because I chose to leave. Sometimes the path we travel can take an unexpected turn. But for today, as you awake, know that I am here. Unlike your coffee, you do not have to wait for me to brew. My gifts, my smile, my laughter and touch are waiting for your eyes to open.   

Awaken my love and let the day begin. Awaken and grab hold of me as you did those Christmas mornings long ago. Squeal and grab hold of me with the same abandon you tore open the paper wrapping. Worry not, I have not bought you socks, and if I did, I promise they would be festive. Awaken my beloved and play with me for hours. Let me see your eyes grow big and sparkle with delight. No single day to say ‘I love you’ or present a bouquet of flowers. Look around my love the earth is your vase. I am here my beloved and I am yours.”

    If nothing else is remembered, if all reflections leave me, if my musing spirit grows quiet may be this be the one that remains with me. May I always call to mind the love letter each day leaves for me. May I greet each day with the anticipation of unopened opportunity, gifts and love. May each day be the best gift ever because I was brave enough to ask, to open. May my eyes be open, and bold to read the letter, Life’s Valentine, and in reading, to write my own and then give away.


Happy Valentine's Day of Life! Also posted on my blog.

I want it all. I want it now.

Also posting on my blog.

I have been watching some afternoon television the last couple of days (thanks to this never-ending plague-like sickness) and in between all the sanctimonious advice, the rampant love affairs, and the extreme makeovers I see one message over and over again: You can have it all.

And hold on, if you call in the next 15 minutes, we'll throw in "No sacrifice" and a bonus "No wait" special. A slim waist, toned body, and that sultry blond can be yours despite your dim wit, thinning hair, and zero bank balance. Guaranteed.

This instant coffee lifestyle (100 percent taste, o percent wait) has permeated our culture so much that we fall for what would objectively seem to be completely ridiculous propositions.

You don't even have to lift a pinkie finger. Just let the Hawaii chair do the work for you!

Last weekend during Superbowl, I saw the Skechers Shape-ups ad. Voila! You can walk your way to a healthy you. Instantly!

No sweat. No tears. Certainly, no blood.

They don't want to impede your unhealthy, junk-food driven, zero-activity lifestyle. Just send 'em the money, get a trashy product that will inadvertently find its way to the garage or a yard sale, and wallow in self-pity. Until the next shiny, svelte promise comes along.

And it's not just the area of weight loss where we have this need for instant results/gratification. It applies to everything in life. Be it relationships, your career graph, material possessions, food...

What makes us such impatient but lazy gluttons for success? Why can't we toil for and work our way to our goals? What is it in our psyche that knowingly ignores or brushes aside the truth? Why do we not want to be "inconvenienced"?

Chasing instant results only means being embroiled in a constant struggle. What if we started planning for and working toward lasting results? Wouldn't that give us a better sense of accomplishment? Wouldn't that provide more value -- a sense of fulfillment?

If we could only learn to take it slow, to gather our will power, to coach our minds...

If we could only realize that the power is not without but within...

If we could only persist...

We could have it all. And we could relish it ... for a long time.

Your greatest enemy is your greatest teacher - darn it!

I read this beautiful and simple Buddhist saying somewhere, a number of  years ago, within a moment that stood alone, separate, as if waiting for me. It was that poignant, that perfect:

"Your greatest enemy is your greatest teacher"

 I knew this in every fibre and twitch of my being as soon as i read it. But it took me a few moments longer to process it with my sludgy brain. So I searched for an example to test the theory. I imagined my greatest enemy, and who came up surprised me. She was my opposite in personality - we had clashed for years and years - yin and yang -  though I did not think of it that way - as there is harmony and balance in ying and yang.  What I did think of was how as opposites, we always talked over eachother - as if we were in different worlds. I was never able to let things go when she said things I judged to be wrong-minded, or untrue or...whatever they were doesn't matter really - when two people clash there is plenty of fodder. She is a member of my extended family, so she is someone I could not avoid, she is part of my life.

I found it rather unpleasant, ok, terrible, to think that she could be my greatest teacher. She, teach me? What could she possibly teach me other than things I don't agree with? She was very conservative, I was, well, NOT. She seemed to only think of money, numbers, counting, counting...i never had money to count...She was reactive, I was certainly calm...er.

Clearly she needed to change, not I...

Aha. 

voila.

bingo. 

I knew as soon as I said this, my old mantra, that it was holding me back - that it actually cemented our tense relationship. This new little line i read forced me to realize that  I needed to change, not her. Sure, she might need to change as any human being needs to, but that was not my business to decide or worry myself over. My part was to change myself - and learn, from the enemy.

I did learn. And it was not pretty. I found that I was full of pride, that I was stuck in my ways, that I was not open to her differences, nor was I ready to celebrate anything good in her. She was the devil and I liked it that way. Such a heavy burden this was for me! Clearly, I was my own enemy.

It was slow, but I started to open myself up, try a new way of seeing. For example, we thought very differently - I excelled at abstraction, she at very concrete ideas. I could explore an idea and never stop exploring, she needed only to explore it until she found a way to make it useful or not, the end. Not a bad way, actually...I started to see her opposite ways as not inferior, but as an alternative way with wisdom of its own. I softened. When I started to perceive her with  fresh eyes - being open to her possibilities, her goodness, I began to be more free within myself - I will explain.

I realized that what I was doing is very similar to what psycologists call "oppositional identity formation" - my "good" identity was directly dependent on sustaining her "bad" identity - this meant I had to feed the monster - my idea of her being a "monster" had to be sustained by examples and stories. Anything good that arose from her I ignored, as it would not uphold my idea of her or of myself in relation to her. In other words, it was all about my ego, my idea of myself.

Ego is not bad necessarily, it just has to stay in check, in balance. Yes you should stand up for yourself at times, you should have a strong sense of self and your abilities, but no, you should not be so tied to your ego - your positive identity, that you cannot accept when you are wrong, that you crumble when others shine a light on your not so positive self, that you act in very strange, very unhealthy ways, very needy ways to maintain that positive identity -  that grand sense of self not grounded in what's real. I had to stop feeding the monster, so I could get a better look at reality, and rest in what is real - she is good, I am good - enjoy.

wow I learned a lot from my enemy.  And she had no idea.

But what she does know now, is, that I appreciate her very different abilities, especially the ones that urked me before, and that though things aren't always smooth, I do find her funny and full of heart, that I admire her energy and her forthrightness... and that we are not enemies...

I am no longer threatened by her goodness.

Identify your greatest enemy - be open to what they can teach you - it is a most difficult thing, but you can come out the other side better for it.

"Only God Can Make A Tree"

I've been staring at trees again. At first it was because I was missing their summer fullness – their green, warm-weather foliage blowing softly in spring and summer breezes. I love trees...the different shapes, heights, variety of leaves, those that flower – those that don't.

Recently driving through the local countryside on a wet, gloomy day – and we've had a lot of wet, gloomy days this winter – I realized how much I still enjoyed those same trees without their covering of green.

Without the thousands of individual leaves covering each branch, each tree reveals another side to it's personality. Bare of any covering, we are allowed to view the form and structure of each branch, each limb, each trunk...as they taper off into differing directions towards the sky.

Some trees are massive – those who have weathered decades of changing seasons - their bark showing signs of age their limbs curling in every direction as they continue to mature. Others are young and strong, their trunks straight – the bark still unmarked by time and nature.

I find them extremely moving and emotional. Even in the bleakness of winter each tree reveals an inner view of it's growth, maturity and wisdom to me. I find myself wondering what these trees have witnessed of humanity.... Forests that have come and gone; children playing and growing beneath them; perhaps travelers on foot, stopping for a rest in the shade of their branches. Growing weary of the browns, grays, and muddy colors of the winter, I have found a new way to appreciate their stark and unusual beauty.

Reviewing what I've just written, it seems as though I might be describing people. When stripped of all foliage - whether full and colorful or sparse and dull – we're all pretty much the same underneath. A straight or stooping posture, smooth or furrowed brow, and number of gray hairs permits us a glimpse of the wisdom and experience of another soul.

Like trees our roots grow wider and deeper with time – strengthened during periods of balmy weather, we are empowered to withstand the storms life surely will bring. Each experience, each encounter we make is an opportunity to put down another root.

Call me a “tree-hugger,” but trees make me smile. Even on the gloomiest of days I can look at a tree and witness its beauty, as it reaches toward heaven reminding me of the strength and power that lies within.

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

"Trees" - Alfred Joyce Kilmer, 1913

(Pictures property of Pamela Bousquet)

Taking criticism from the right people can lead you out of mediocrity

In the blogosphere you must question why you are blogging if you do not feel a little uncomfortable as your mouse hovers over the publish button.

When you put yourself 'out there' and say what you really think then you have to accept what comes back at you in the comments section.

I think sometimes that's easier said than done.

For example it’s easy to accept nice, supportive comments because then you know that you have reached readers who are a good fit for you.

Unfortunately nice supportive comments can feel a bit stale after a while. By stale I mean tedious from familiarity, boring and static. I believe that blogging by consensus will not move you forward.

I am the first to admit that I’m the one leaving nice supportive comments on the majority of the blogs that I read. A post that gets a nice supportive comment from me is usually a safe, balanced post that leaves me a little entertained.

More often than not I find myself wishing that more was revealed, and that there was some talk of other less positive issues that I face, such as money problems, relationship issues, etc.

And what’s more, if a less shiny side of the blogger’s life saw the light of day in their posts then I would find it harder to simply write a safe, supportive, nice comment.

I have never received any negative or constructive criticism on any of my posts, but I know that if I did I would be lead away from my position in an attempt to please those who did not agree with me. I am quite sure this would happen even though I know that it is impossible to please everybody. If you’ve never had a negative comment then you should reread the previous paragraphs again, along with me, and repeat as necessary.

So where does that leave me? My safe posts attract nice, supportive, and often' ho hum' comments that may keep me in mediocrity (this is why I am sweating as I hover over the publish button for this post because I am biting the supportive hands that feed my ego) and if I write posts that move me forward then I must deal with any negative criticism in a way that maintains my position. It’s clear to me that I both want to, and need to move forward.

So here is the deal. I will find the courage to be a better blogger if you will comment in a way that moves me forward. I want comments that ask more of me. I want your interactive, brain switched on, comments and I want your gritty engagement.

I will offer you no less than that in my future comments on those posts of yours that make you sweat.

(Don't) Quit Your Day Job

     Sitting here this Sunday eve, I start to feel the effects of PMS; “pre-Monday Syndrome.” Now mind you I am blessed in the fact that my work week actually starts on Tuesday so I am spared what many feel in a handful of hours from now.


     Monday mornings, I do have to return to my drill sergeant duties in getting the troops ready for school, my chef’s duties in getting lunches ready and often off to the grocery to buy the required sustenance for the upcoming week, and I once again return my attention to the online banking and work related emails. Oh yes taxes...*urp*...taxes. (I think I threw up in my mouth a little).

     Anyhow – I often briefly scan my Facebook account to see what friends are up to, my duties on other accounts, posts and random how-do-you do’s. Most of the status updates however, post laments of Monday and the related dread of its arrival.

     In writing my book, one point I observed is that if people “hated” Mondays as much as they profess on my scrolling social network screen; and they lived an average life of approximately eighty years, they would be spending 11.4 years of their life in a state of dread and dismay. Profound huh? Add another day to the mix and, well, you do the math!

    I think this stems a lot from the proverbial “Day Job” that haunts us.

     I find it interesting as I sat here most of this wonderful Sunday creating my book proposal and query letters for my book I have written. I spent hours upon hours (my kids were gone or entertained), feverishly trying to give my dream the leverage to get published and perhaps unfurling my sails to venture into new and uncharted blue waters. My dream is to one day be at my own book signing, my book an inspirational tome to where I hope the attendees are if not moved at least entertained. I want the cardigan sweater with the patches on the elbows. I want progressively bad eyesight that accompanies the career of a writer. Okay, maybe not.

     Why is it I spent much of my coveted weekend propped in front of a keyboard “working” when I now dread going back to work? Why do others feel the same? When did our dreams of doing what we do, just simply become an income generator, a hurdle to get through, and like an old lover, we now only consider a friend (if at all)?

     What is interesting to me is when I ask people, “If money was not a concern, would you be doing what you are doing now?” The answer most often is “no”. Secondly and peculiarly is that what we would do for fulfillment is quite often completely and randomly different from what we now do. Does this shift occur from boredom with the task? Does it occur from external disillusionment? Were expectations to high to begin with? Perhaps a force we could not see like the economy caused our emotional detachment. Maybe who is in charge of our progression is a hindrance. It is rough when your boss is a mean or lazy a-hole, and you are self-employed...

     I often hear, “Don’t quit your day job” directed to someone following their passion. Usually a discouraging outburst by someone who wants to see you tethered to that which weighs you down. Ah, the day job; the nemesis of excitement, yet that which provides the necessary sustainability to exist in the dreamless world, and slows our progression to be able to peer through our sextant and focus on the next guiding star.

     What helps me is in reaching for my goals and new territory is that I realize that my day job is truly what keeps my boat afloat in the meantime. Also I am more aware of when I am simply wasting time. Recharging is one thing, but when I could be utilizing my efforts to achieve whatever task, hobby, or dream I need to work on, I am more in tune to my application of my mental and physical efforts.

     Funny too is that I realize now that in my desire to not be at work, and have my leisure time, I would often waste much of it with boring tasks, watching TV, or daydreaming. The daydreaming spent wishing my life were different. Who was to blame? What can I do differently?

     Now as I sit and try to narrow my 11.4 years to a more palatable number, I also spend reasonable time with reasonable expectations on adding variety to my life. Quit my day job? Who knows? The next best-selling author? I still don’t know. Cardigan sweater with the patches? Wal-Mart here I come.

     What I do find is that when my job and life become boring or challenging, the effort I can dedicate to another goal or dream is enough to distract from my displeasure with the “same ‘ole, same ‘ole.” It is energizing and nourishing. It often alleviates the “day job” from the target of my whining, and redirects my focus to healthier tasks.

     From hairdresser to writer is quite an odd transition. As I said, many of us find where we are quite a bit different from where we wish we could be. As I look here to my right I have a small square hanging from my wall with the inspirational quote: “What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?” I am attempting mine---what would you do?


Note:
Repost from Artisan of the Human Spirit

Sleeping and Living Past the Snooze

The first part was posted to my blog this morning. I offer the epilogue to those who walked with me today.

      Do not fear no alarm clocks were totally harmed in the making of this day. Slightly injured but a full recovery is expected. I awoke when the first morning report should be falling off the printer’s paper tray. The adrenaline rushed through my body. Feet thudded on the floor and then I stopped. It was a complete and unequivocal stop. The wave of adrenaline subsided, the phone call was made and I obeyed the voice in my head, perhaps the heart or perhaps they spoke in unison. This morning I say thank you for the voice that says sit for a while and be still. Sit and know your heart. Sit and hear no voice but your own. Sit and listen to your breath, your skin and your eyes blinking. Sit and know who you are. 
      I offer my thanks to the voice that said stop. The justice of the world, the hope of the world and the work of the world must first begin with me. Today, for twenty four hours I am retired. For twenty four hours I have a new to do list. I have a new set of meetings to attend and they all start with me. Today, I will make a deposit into my own bank account, I will pay myself. Today I will hear my own voice of need. Today I will save the world and the world will be me. And this I do so that tomorrow I may reach out and love You, the world.
      The snooze day has come to an end. It was a day spent reading blogs of hope, laughter and the ever twisting and turning of life’s Rubik’s Cube. A day alone. Today I was the proverbial fly on the wall walking through people’s lives and eavesdropping on their hearts. Today I was alone among a community of people and our world. Tonight, I watched the sun drift lazily from the lofty heavens and nestle in the earthy horizon. From that same earthy horizon the moon arose to draw my gaze upward again. Like the sun and moon I’ve journeyed from heaven back to earth and from earth back to the heavens. Ah, that has been my day, a sort of vertically horizontal kind of day. I am ready to be a warrior again. May yours come very soon.