I want to be a kid again

There is no greater example of presence than in a young child. I walk my kids to school; fair weather of course. If not it is the SUV, and the trip much more abbreviated, and a lot less beneficial.

I find that many of the things I find myself coaching my kids to abstain from, are simply the examples of youth, innocence, exploration, and harmless expressions of being present in the moment. They often mention to me, “Daddy, I want to grow up right now!” I recoil in horror as many of us wish we could turn back the clocks. I say this not in the dream of having the svelte and slender frame I had as a youth, as somewhere my six-pack turned into a keg; but that the circumstances of our life were so different. It was all about the context.

We had fears, we had obstacles, we had dreams, and we had relationships as we do now, but man oh man, were the contexts much different.

I want to go back. I want to go back to appreciate when my “deformity” was that I was too short to reach the Choc-Ola at the bottom of the soda cooler. I remember my life’s goal was to be able to enter Bud’s Carry Out on Elm Street, through the flimsy screen door, across the creaking wood flooring, to proudly bend over the cooler, and reach a Choc-Ola drink without my mid section being the fulcrum between my dangling toes, and me taking a nose dive into the beverages. Those were goals–achievable and certain goals!

The only ladder we had to climb was to get the Frisbee off the roof.

I want my Sunday school God back. When I was young, we would hear a lesson of love and of compassion, we would make a cross out of Popsicle sticks, and life was recharged. All I knew was God was great, He was everywhere, He loved me, He loved you, and He was in control and everything would eventually be okay. I lament that the innocence of the Divine concept has been changed. Too much of “my” God will kill those who follow “your” God is in the world. Too much of “how” I am supposed to praise, and in what way has taken away the ability to just connect and enjoy. It is like someone telling me how to hold my daughter’s hand.

War. War was a game we played with cards. We would get through the deck and yell, “Two out of three, okay?” The only blood we would experience would be from a skinned knee while climbing a tree. Miracle cures were mother’s kisses. Rebuilding devastated civilizations were what ants did if we stomped on the little mounds of dirt we found punctuating our play areas.

Fear? In short, the boogie man. Okay maybe strange noises coming from outside your window or in the ink of the night. Fear could be erased with a crack in your bedroom door and a hall light and not a monthly prescription.

You fell from social graces not by racial slurs but by yelling “poopie-butt” at your friend because it was the absolute worst thing you could ever dream up. “Wardrobe malfunctions” were mismatched socks and uncombed hair. The “style trends” were when your friends all planned to wear swimsuits under your clothes so after school you saved time getting to the pool party. Garanimals. “Nuff said.”

Snap back to reality...

I guess I find that it is spending time with my kids and their friends that allow me this stroll down memory lane. It happened to me yesterday as I encountered a stranger on the street outside my business. Casual pleasantries about the weather detoured into a string of minutes discussing moments from my small town that would make Norman Rockwell proud. I found he was a widower, a handful of years my senior, and after our brief chat, strolled onward with a smile he did not arrive with. Like my kids share their presence with me, I shared with him. That’s how it works.

I like being where I am I guess. I can now reach the cookies unassisted; once being another life goal. I can go as far as my car can take me as opposed to how far I can peddle. Maybe a little more freedom, but the interpretation of that statement leaves itself for another discussion.

Nothing is stopping me from stomping in puddles, running wildly, humming at the table, or making weird noises while I eat. I guess I could if I wanted to. Some days I still may not comb my hair. I am thankful to still be able to recall the joy of those moments. I hope those are the memories that are the last to fade.

As the presence and living in the moment is precious to a child, it is the ability to be present myself that allows me to recognize these things happening in my kids and around me. If I am in-tune, I can tune-in to what my kids are experiencing more so. Although presence of mind is a true gift, I find it is still healthy to occasionally take a little vacation.

Repost from Artisan of the Human Spirit

Special Relationships!

Special relationships, what are they? We are talking about intimate, 'love' relationships, borne out of 'love'.

Maybe we should begin with the question of what is love?

'Love is patient,
Love is kind.
It does not envy,
It does not boast,
It is not proud.
It is not rude,
It is not self-seeking.
It is not easily angered,
It keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil
But rejoices in the truth.
It always protects,
Always trusts,
Always hopes,
Always perseveres.'

1 Corinthians 13: 4-7

Therefore whatever is not the above, means it is not love???

So for example, taking one of the lines above, love- 'it is not easily angered.'
Does this mean when we are angry with our intimate partner, do we not love them any more?

It seems so!

But let's not use only the Bible's word for it.

Eckhart Tolle, an author and spiritual teacher, says that,

'If in your relationships you experience both 'love' and the opposite of love - attack, emotional violence and so on - then it is likely that you are confusing ego attachment and addictive clinging with love.......true love has no opposite.'

He continues,

'Love is a state of Being. Your love is not outside; it is deep within you. You can never lose it, and it cannot leave you. It is not dependent on some other body...'

So what are special relationships? Or to put it another way, What is the purpose of a special relationship??

If they invariably create so much emotion, both positive and negative, where the negative is not love, and by the looks of it neither is the positive since it is the opposite of negative, and as said above, 'true love has no opposite'.

Is there a purpose, other than procreation?? Is there something more spiritual or is this it? - You fall in love, have a few good times, have a lot of bad times, have kids, make up, get on, fight again, stay together, or not, fall in love with someone else and start the whole process again, with a few variations.

Tolle believes that humans have increasingly become identified with their mind and therefore most relationships are not rooted in the present. This is why it turns into pain and conflict.

Avoidance of relationships does not dissolve this pain, since the problem is that the identification is with the mind and not the present moment - living in the past or future.

Relationships work on our need to become whole. To make a whole you need both masculine and feminine. That is the pull, the attraction, the search for wholeness, on a physical level, since at the core, we are whole.

So, other than the need for wholeness, what is the purpose of a relationship?

Tolle believes a relationship's purpose is not to make you happy or fulfilled. If you continue to look for happiness through a relationship you will be disillusioned over and over again.

Tolle says that a relationship's purpose is to make you conscious. Which in turn will bring you happiness, for being conscious is your natural state of being, just as love is your natural state of being. Accepting this will help you align with a higher consciousness.

How do you stay conscious? What is conscious?

Staying present, Being, not going to the past which is riddled with guilt, bitterness and hate, or darting to the future which is infested with worry, fear and anxiety.

Staying present makes you an observer. Being an observer, you are alert. Being alert keeps you present, dissolving any pain real or perceived freeing you to accept the NOW!

Life Petals

Not long ago I was reading one of the installments of a blog of a dear friend of mine. Her name is Lisa Brandel and her blog is titled The Widow Lady, in which she chronicles the story of a loved one battling and ultimately dying of a grim disease. Although sad, her story is also gripping, realistic, honest, at times funny, bittersweet and always profound.


Lisa's blog has often prompted memories of my own of family members who have fought long, debilitating illnesses with dignity and inner strength. I was writing a comment on one of her posts and said something along the lines of,

"This has always made me think of watching petals slowly falling from a flower."

That phrase stuck in my mind and kept surfacing in different ways, to the point that I knew eventually I would write more fully about this concept.

Those of us who are romantic, or have children, are familiar with the story of "Beauty and the Beast". Depending on which version of the story you have read or viewed in movie format, the Soul of the Beast is represented by a flower, or a blooming bush, or blooming tree. As Beauty fails to see past the outer visage of the Beast, with each disappointment sustained, another petal from the flower falls.

The more I turned these seemingly unrelated points over and over in my mind, the more interconnecting points began to fall into place. Who among us, in the first flush of love, or secure in a lasting relationship hasn't felt replenished, our spirits renewed and uplifted by the attention of that other person? I have always held a mental image that relationships are exactly like that Magical Flower, but my image is one of the flower constantly being renewed. Certainly, disappointments, illnesses, arguments and other difficult experiences strip the petals away or crush the delicate surfaces, leaving unsightly bruising. Yet, with time, patience, understanding and love, the fallen petals are replaced, the bruised petals are healed and the flower stands proudly, lush and vital.

Could it be that we each have different flowers for each relationship, different flowers for various levels of physical health? One specific type of flower for friendships, another for family, yet another for work relationships, still more flowers that reflect our state of bodily health, and finally, that one special flower for the most deeply personal connection with that loved one. There is certainly a Language of Flowers that has existed for almost 200 years, giving each flower a specific message, sometimes going to exquisitely minute detail with one flower having different meaning read by the color of the petals.  An example would be a yellow rose meaning friendship, while we all recognize the red rose denotes love.

In my mind's eye, all of the flowers in our personal garden form a central path. This central path leads to a unique flower that is unlike any other in existence, and would never be found here on Earth. This flower would represent us. No one else, just us. All the other flowers in our personal garden channel energy into our personal Life Flower, keeping it healthy.

With age, it is inevitable that people come and go. Some leave this earthly plane early, at least to our human minds. Our personal gardens are as those in nature - in a constant state of flux, with changes and shifts, birth, growth and death occurring. The march of time causes our personal Life Flower to slowly...oh, so slowly, shed petals. Sometimes those petals renew, and the Life Flower continues to flourish.

In the instances of terminal illness, I imagine that individual's personal garden experiences quite dramatic change. I also can vividly picture their personal Life Flower becoming an equally profound depiction of their battle against that illness. I would think the Life Flower would reflect all the physical struggles, all the emotions and fears that go unspoken. Rather than this Life Flower becoming marked, or bruised or scarred, I can only visualize that it becomes more brilliantly beautiful, shining with an otherwordly purity, carrying a similar mien to that of a soldier in the midst of grim battle.

Eventually, an end must come for all of us. Our personal Life Flower will shed petals over time, slowly for some of us, abruptly and brutally for others. In my own personal analogy, I believe that those fallen petals do not perish into proverbial dust. I envision them drifting on that cosmic wind, guided by Love, to find their way to the Life Flowers of their loved ones. Isn't that a wonderful thing to imagine? That, just possibly, those fallen petals seek us out, those of us left to carry on and find a way to go forward alone, they drift until they find us, and they attach to our personal garden.

This, many might say, is a fairytale of epic proportions. I have no foundation for this concept other than my own, admittedly, fertile imagination. The image of that single flower suspended in space, slowly releasing, one by one....Life Petals, is one that has popped into my mind's eye each time I have dealt with lingering, terminal illness. Whether it makes sense to anyone else matters not to me; what does matter to me is that the thought brings me comfort. Imagining that some small fragment of the true essence of someone I have loved never really leaves me makes me smile, and gives me a solid sense of inner peace.

Perhaps one day I shall sit down and write out this different sort of fairytale, for I am curious to learn more of it. This is one of those facets of being a writer that I cherish, because I am equally curious to learn the end of the story as my readers may be. Questions certainly remain - where do all the petals shed over a lifetime go? Do they swirl away on the wind, except for those precious few that seek out those that are left to continue living? Do they form a carpeted path for us when our time comes, leading us in the right direction to reunite with those who have gone before us? The story is unfinished at this time.

I am left with how to close this blog. It was prompted, in part, by the blog of a dear friend, bringing to the forefront of my mind an image and concept that has been softly chiming in the background, patiently waiting to be given voice. How will this post be received? I honestly have no idea, but again, I will choose to be brave, publish it and wait to see what responses come. In the meantime, I will visit my own personal garden and gaze about me at the blessings, strewn in riotous color, then I shall gaze towards the center of my garden and recognize that my own Life Flower casts a bright glow. For now, this is a fitting close.
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If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

Marriage

“Don’t say that you love me…”

Sang legendary 70’s nut cases Fleetwood Mac.

“Just tell me that you want me.”

I haven’t done any way near enough drugs to be able to dissect the rest of that song for you as paracetamol is simply not strong enough to work out why they suddenly shout TUSK or why some marching band turns up.

But I do understand those two lines.

I’m not really experienced enough yet to be able to conclusively say what makes a marriage successful. I’ve only done a shade under 12 years, which theoretically isn’t even half way towards being able to claim any expertise. My parents and Jo’s parents are certainly in a position to give advice, each pairing lasting for more than 40 years. So I am not about to even try and dish out marital guidance, however I will tell you what I think and hope will work for me.

Share a sense of humour – This is vital and probably the most important of all aspects of a relationship to get right. Make sure you are with someone you can laugh with. We face many challenges over the years, many hardships, whether or not you have kids (sometimes especially if you don’t). When the chips are down and you are at your lowest ebbs, you need someone there who can make you smile again. Help you to see the path ahead is not so dark.

Feeling wanted – As the Mac said “wanting” your partner is somewhat important. I think it gets a little missed as folk think that as long as they say “I love you” every day then everything is fine. However all of us need to feel wanted now and again, to have someone need you is not the same. You can need someone to clean the house or cook your tea or mend the fence and cut the grass. We need to do the grocery shopping every week, but who gets excited about that? However going out shopping for something you want is whole different ball game. It doesn’t just have to be about sex, though that is probably the easiest way of showing it, sometimes you can be wanted simply for company – not just watching TV together but having a game of scrabble. I’m talking about you personally being wanted for a chat, for comfort and support, for someone to cry on, for someone to laugh with. Knowing that it is you that is wanted for something, rather than just ‘a person’ needed to help with the house or to babysit, makes you feel special. I think it is easy to forget this, to think that needing someone to do things and telling them ‘thanks’ and ‘I love you’ is the same, it isn’t. Let them know that you want them – not just somebody, but that one specific person.

Doing the things that are needed – Bearing in mind what I have just said, the fact is that we do have to do things that are needed too. Spot the things your partner needs, the every day dross of life that they are dealing with. It might not have to be you that will help with these problems, but if not who will? No one is perfect at this, no one can be, I for one am pretty terrible at it, but I try. Don’t sit back and wait for your partner to find someone else to help relieve the monotony of life.

Love – So with all that I’ve said, where does love fit in? In itself I don’t believe that it does, I see no important value in a long term relationship in simply saying “I love you” now and again (however, my wife does so you’d better believe I do it!), words can be said easily enough, meaning them is the key. What I do believe though, is that the love is found in the three points I’ve already covered. When you truly love someone, you want them, you need them and er you make them laugh. Ok not quite that last one, but loving someone so much that they still make you laugh after X years is kind of part of it. The respect that you show somebody when you are there for them, in any, and every way that you can manage, not because you need to, not because you ought to, but because you truly want to – is love.

So that’s my current theory, this theory will probably be different to my wife’s. This time next year I could be divorced and putting a link back to this post as a reference to all the things you should never do. For sure I’m talking about how I would like to behave; I’m not saying I’m great at it.

Hopefully, one day I’ll have been married long enough to call myself a success, but right now all I can say is that I’m happy and working at helping Jo be happy too. I only have another 32 years until I catch my parents up – crikey that is a long time, we are going to need a bigger TV.

Also on www.Glenslife.com

Milestones: Three years in the pink city

Not all of Jaipur looks like this...

Recently, I keep starting out my posts with numbers. Perhaps it helps me to establish the landmarks, to measure my success on this uncharted path. For me, these three years are the longest ever time that I've been settled in one place since I graduated from high school in 1999. I'm discounting the four years of college because I moved a lot from year to year.

True, I haven't been in Jaipur for three years straight, either. I have left for at least 2 months every year to visit family, and last year I was hardly home since I spent almost half the time at the ashram or travelling. It's probably the only way I could've survived.

Nonetheless, three years with my stuff in the same apartment, with or without me. Three years of having Jaipur as home base, ready for me when I return. Three years of pigeons as my closest neighbors.

It was in April 2007 that we came here. I want to be able to say something very insightful about my experience here, a neatly packaged byte of wisdom. But in my stupor of disbelief that I've made it here this long, I'm struggling to make much out of it.

Actually, perhaps the real motivating force behind writing this post, behind even the realization itself that I have been here for that long, is that we are most probably leaving Jaipur. I hesitate to give more details because that deserves its own post. But the impending departure certainly has made me recognize how settled I've become here, and dare I say it? Attached.

To be honest, I can't think of things off the top of my head that I particularly like about this place, but to do Jaipur some justice, I will put some effort in and make a list:

1. Central Park
2. seeing Nahargarh Fort from my window

Ok, the list idea is pointless. It's sounding horribly negative, which has nothing to do with Jaipur in itself--it's more to do with my own perspective and judgements.

While now I can say that I'm in a positive frame of mind, much of my time here has not been spent in that way. Furthermore, I can say that I've come to terms with my previous negativity, and have reached more of a state of acceptance of life, of being here, all the pros and cons included. It's been a sacrifice, but has held certain advantages. They've pretty much cancelled each other out.

Pros include low cost of living, nice apartment, being close to in-laws, being close to Delhi. Cons: difficulty in going out (weather & logistics combined), weather, lack of social circle, weather, being close to in-laws, weather...

Dear Jaipur, you're too hot and I can't think properly. You've made life difficult for me, but I forgive you.

Nahargarh Fort, which I can see from my window

(also posted on my blog, BeckyBlab)

A Journey

Thank you universe...it is finished. To my mother, where ever you are, I kept my promise, the story is told in a way that I could tell it...as you wished.

All I can say at this time...is it is a miracle. I just wanted to share the miracle with you from Chicago, Il to Daegu, South Korea to Paris to Nanjing China...and all I can say to all of you...follow your heart. There is a reason to go against the flow...and why we have the lessons along the way. For often we judge on the outward appearance...not realizing and not knowing who is really around us.

Great love to you all.

The Morning After

Ah the pain associated with some of the greatest nights Ive ever had. If Im incredibly unlucky, it feels a bit like this.......

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The first thing I hear is nothing. There’s light in the room and the day is completely still. A ringing begins to echo through my ear drums with soft reverberation and I have vague recollections of standing directly next to a speaker, shouting over the bass. Before I have time to move a limb, and immediately after the awareness that I am actually still alive, railway nails are driven into the tender part of my skull, right between the eyes. The banging builds as theyre drive further into my brain and I press the heels of my palms into my eye sockets to dull the sting. I always convince myself that if I just hadn’t opened my eyes, and let the sun touch my pupils, it would never hurt as much - I need to start wearing eye patches to bed! Groaning, I roll over and reach blindly for the bottle of water on my bedside table, its unfortunately still full and now warm. Clearly I did not drink any before I slept.

The water sloshes violently down my throat in my desperate bid to lift the drought, and its not just my sore throat crying out for it, but I can feel every emaciated cell reaching to the skies. And through the thudding I become aware of the shape beside me, sprawling, and snoring, with limbs hanging from the edge of the bed. The whole room smells like stale beer, and it seems like I passed out on my left shoulder again, as its contorted and bent beneath me and does not have the strength to move. I twist beneath the covers to alleviate the intense heat of a body in overdrive, realising that I’m still wearing last nights clothes. Who's bloody idea was this anyway.

I rise on one elbow and look at my boyfriend, there’s drool on his pillow. I look at my own, and mascara and red lipstick dance together in patterns across the slip. I don’t even want to think about my face, which feels thick with grime. I need to pee. Standing from the bed, the arch of my foot lands on the heel of the stilettos I left on the floor and I curse in pain, knowing full well thats where I always leave my heels. Stumbling forward completely disorientated, I clutch the door frame and slide my body along the hallway. My eyes refuse to focus.

After I wee, I stand feverishly over the toaster, begging for the dry toast to pop so that I can chew on my painkillers and swallow my vitamin B without throwing up. I glance out the window and a woman walks briskly past with her excited dog. I grit my teeth and send all her my negative energy, but the ache doesn’t go away. I think a poltergeist has ransacked my kicthen, the cupboard doors are swung open and partially eaten food is strewn across the table. I spy a kebab wrapper in the bin... Im going to feel that later.

Stumbling back down the hall, I wonder what caused the purple bruising on my shins, and where the hell my purse is. I open the front door to bring in some air and discover my keys still in the lock. Yeah, really clever.

My gut is churning and my stomach feels tight and bloated, Im not sure if I need to wee again, or throw up. I pull out my earrings and all the pins from my hair and slip out of my clothes. I climb back into the hot bed, gulp some more water, and promise I will never ever drink again. I fall back asleep, praying for relief. Its only midday, after all.