Tragedy, stark, ugly, bleeding tragedy once more in the United States of America. In this country...a land where we relish diversity, celebrate tolerance, and do our best to love our neighbor, (at least that is the country I wish to believe we are), somebody was outraged by seeing somebody kissing in public. Two males kissing. He was with his children when this event occurred. For some reason he felt that this gave him the duty to take a machine gun and shoot fifty people...fifty STRANGERS that he didn't even know!
I have gone with homosexual friends to a bar. I'm heterosexual, and I do not drink alcohol. However, I have dear friends that are homosexual and do drink alcohol. I have gone with them to dance, talk, and giggle. Imagine yourself in that setting. A man comes through the door with a machine gun and begins to randomly shoot people. Would it matter to him that you weren't homosexual?
In his confused, troubled world when there is something that offends you, "Pluck it out," as it says in the Old Testament. I do not believe that you were intended to pluck that offense out with a machine gun! I do not believe that without any process of law whatsoever (remember it was called the Mosaic LAW)? you felt that you were invested by God, or hatred, or outrage, or whatever justification that you could find to kill people.
Unfortunately, throughout the history of the world, many, many people have lost their lives because someone else stood in judgment of the choices of someone else. The Salem Witch Trials, the Inquisition, and more recently ISIS, all were involved with somebody thinking that they had the moral right to end the lives or those whose choices they disagreed with.
I have fought long, and hard, to preserve my life on this planet. I was born with very little immune system, and severe, severe allergies. I am basically allergic to every substance on this planet. When I was born the only solution for asthma was to give oxygen, pray, and hope that you survived. Asthma was more terminal than chronic.
Then there were ten car accidents (I'm a very safe driver, but have poor taste in the people I ride with), breast cancer, and a number of other close calls to death. Through it all there were also joyous times, family, friends, music, more music, and my greatest strength, my belief in a loving God.
Life is VERY precious to me. There were thousands of nights in my life between birth to twenty when I would be awake for most of the night because I could not breathe. Your body will not allow to sleep much when you are not breathing well. Sudden Infant Death Syndrome is usually caused by a number of factors other than asthma, or pulmonary disease. It is rare for your body to allow you to stay asleep when you are NOT breathing.
On those rugged, ragged nights when I had struggled through the dark hours to dawn my Mama and sometimes my Papa would be with me. They would do their best to make the bad situation better. I remember Mama often saying to me, "Honey the birdies are singing. We've made it through another night. Somehow the approach of light, and living, usually helped my body to relax, my airways to open.
When your life is threatened again, again, and still again, you may either become extremely bitter, or you may learn to see miracles in tender moments throughout the everydayness of life. I choose the later. I still feel my Mama close to me (she's been dead for several years) when I hear the birdies sing early in the morning. The sparkle of starlight nights, and moon filled sky fill me with joyous wonder.
To think that fifty people, FIFTY PEOPLE WHO HAD NEVER DONE ANYTHING TO THIS MAN, lost their chances to learn, love, and live this life to the best of their abilities because one disturbed man decided it was his job to kill them? That is completely unbearable to me. I have no doubt that when those people arrived in the spiritual realm they were TICKED!
What comforts me is my rock firm knowledge that it will be made right. I believe that there is an eternity, and we are eternal creatures, and it WILL BE MADE RIGHT! I would not want to be that man when those fifty enraged people, or broken hearted people have the chance to tell that man what he has done, what he has denied them all.
I feel anguish for those that are left behind...those that will NEVER see their loved one's face, hear their voice, or share life with them again. I lost my sweetheart when he was only fifty-four. He died from multiple causes that triggered sepsis. I have gone through the heartbreak of knowing that I have a life to live, WITHOUT HIM! Sometimes the grief almost overwhelms me. Yet I know that the love we shared will give me light to live my life by.
I pray for all those broken hearts that are grieving! On the other hand, having a gun in your briefcase or purse is NOT the answer! The last thing that we need to do as a country is to become like the colonial days of our country, or the wild west when everyone needed a gun for protection. They mostly used those guns to protect them from bears, or to hunt for food for their families. They NEVER used machine guns.
We in this country like to think that we are a civilized society. There is nothing civilized in people who are mentally unstable being able to procure guns...especially machine guns! I hear about the 2nd amendment in the constitution until I become weary. I feel that if we are meant to live the exact constitution as it was instituted originally we must be true to all of its ideas. That means that we must take away women's right to vote and own property, and while we're at it, slavery could be nice, I mean come on, having somebody else to do all your work? (That statement was sarcastic in case you missed it).
What can we do? Is it hopeless? Should we all just decide that the Apocalypse has arrived and climb in a well equipped bunker? EMPHATICALLY NO!!! We can enact better background searches before guns are issued. We can make stricter laws about the use of guns. If our country will have guns then they must learn safe use. We teach our children responsible methods to drive cars, why couldn't we teach our citizens safer ways to use guns?
I believe that we must educate our children about this issue. We must teach them love, love, love, love, love. We must explain the consequence of hatred, prejudice, and intolerance. Perhaps instead of sending our children to other countries to study and learn about the culture of others, we could send our kids to homes where loved ones have been lost to hatred and intolerance. I don't think that we should now learn to ignore the cultures of other lands, on the other hand, we MUST learn a better way to live in our own culture. We must teach the next generation a better way to live than to kill and hate!
Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass....it's about learning to dance in the rain!
Wednesday, June 15, 2016
Thursday, June 9, 2016
Living Life Large
I was born old, very, very old. It quickly ages a person when they are unable to draw oxygen into their body. Asthma...in this era is annoying, but there are many, many medications that minimize the effects it has on your body.
That was NOT the case when I was born. There were two treatments in Western medicine for asthma, oxygen, and pounding. Pounding is NOT the proper name, but the treatment involved someone cupping their hands and then pounding on your back. It was miserable, and frightening to a small child. This treatment helped to thin phlegm that caused asthmatics and those with cystic fibrosis dangerous respiratory symptoms. When this substance is too thick it quickly can lead to dangerous infections.
I also remember being encased in an oxygen tent. That meant that my child small body of two or three was placed in a sort of clear plastic filled with the oxygen that enabled me to breathe. I also remember hearing doctors and nurses around me whispering, "She will not live long, she's too highly allergic." I was asthmatic, NOT DEAF!
Why do I discuss this experience? It has had a profound impact on my life as I pass from my middle aged life into my older life. My friend's health is now catching up to me. I have struggled with health challenge each and every day of my life. Big things, like breast cancer, to small things, like asthma (at least it's much smaller now than it was when I was a child).
As each year comes and goes I rejoice that I am still here! I hear so many people saying, "Old age is not for sissies!" In my life, NO AGE WAS FOR SISSIES. The things that surprise others in this part of their lives, I have been coping with for ALL OF MY LIFE. That does not make me superior to others, I do still whine and complain extremely well. It DOES grant me a different perspective.
An example is this last year. I had to have all my teeth pulled, and get dentures. Then I had complications causing me to wait an additional year before I could use my lower dentures. In addition I finally reached the point where it is necessary for me to wear glasses all the time.
At first, as I traveled through this unfamiliar terrain, I was extremely good at complaining about "old age." Then I began to regain my perspective. I have many friends who had to get dentures at a far younger age. I have many friends, who have worn glasses since childhood.
I am entering a brand new decade of life on this birthday. At first I found that a frightening idea...I mean, I'm definitely not young OR middle-aged anymore. Then I remembered my perspective, "I'm still here! I'm still able to learn new things, meet new people, travel to new places, reach new goals, and live life as fully as I possibly can!"
Oh there will be challenges that will flatten me from time to time. The important thing for me to remember is that it's ok to be knocked flat. What is NOT ok, is to stay flat, to give up, give out, or give in!
One of my beloved Grandma's who lived to the ripe old age of 84 used to say that she would get up and get dressed in the morning. Next she would get the newspaper from her front porch. She would eat, and open the page to the obituaries. If she didn't find her obituary in the paper, she would proceed to plan for her day. I love the good humor of her perspective. I knew that she was joking. She did NOT expect to find her obituary in the paper while she was eating her cream of wheat. Nonetheless, even for me as a child I understood her way of coping with the idea of death within life.
Today, I am ALIVE! I hope, and plan to fill my day with rejoicing, celebration, in the little things, like writing a blog post, playing the piano, even in cleansing my dishes (that last one may be too big of a stretch to find enjoyment). I hope to sing, dance, sing and dance, and then work on laundry. I enjoy the process of taking dirty clothing, and washing, drying, and then folding, creating order where chaos existed.
Today, however, I wish to remember that as Abraham Lincoln said, "It's not about doing what you love, it's about loving what you're doing." That means that when I do the things I dislike, or loathe (dishes are in that last category) I can find ways to make the job bearable. Remember as Mary Poppins said in the Disney movie, "A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, in a most delightful way!"
That was NOT the case when I was born. There were two treatments in Western medicine for asthma, oxygen, and pounding. Pounding is NOT the proper name, but the treatment involved someone cupping their hands and then pounding on your back. It was miserable, and frightening to a small child. This treatment helped to thin phlegm that caused asthmatics and those with cystic fibrosis dangerous respiratory symptoms. When this substance is too thick it quickly can lead to dangerous infections.
I also remember being encased in an oxygen tent. That meant that my child small body of two or three was placed in a sort of clear plastic filled with the oxygen that enabled me to breathe. I also remember hearing doctors and nurses around me whispering, "She will not live long, she's too highly allergic." I was asthmatic, NOT DEAF!
Why do I discuss this experience? It has had a profound impact on my life as I pass from my middle aged life into my older life. My friend's health is now catching up to me. I have struggled with health challenge each and every day of my life. Big things, like breast cancer, to small things, like asthma (at least it's much smaller now than it was when I was a child).
As each year comes and goes I rejoice that I am still here! I hear so many people saying, "Old age is not for sissies!" In my life, NO AGE WAS FOR SISSIES. The things that surprise others in this part of their lives, I have been coping with for ALL OF MY LIFE. That does not make me superior to others, I do still whine and complain extremely well. It DOES grant me a different perspective.
An example is this last year. I had to have all my teeth pulled, and get dentures. Then I had complications causing me to wait an additional year before I could use my lower dentures. In addition I finally reached the point where it is necessary for me to wear glasses all the time.
At first, as I traveled through this unfamiliar terrain, I was extremely good at complaining about "old age." Then I began to regain my perspective. I have many friends who had to get dentures at a far younger age. I have many friends, who have worn glasses since childhood.
I am entering a brand new decade of life on this birthday. At first I found that a frightening idea...I mean, I'm definitely not young OR middle-aged anymore. Then I remembered my perspective, "I'm still here! I'm still able to learn new things, meet new people, travel to new places, reach new goals, and live life as fully as I possibly can!"
Oh there will be challenges that will flatten me from time to time. The important thing for me to remember is that it's ok to be knocked flat. What is NOT ok, is to stay flat, to give up, give out, or give in!
One of my beloved Grandma's who lived to the ripe old age of 84 used to say that she would get up and get dressed in the morning. Next she would get the newspaper from her front porch. She would eat, and open the page to the obituaries. If she didn't find her obituary in the paper, she would proceed to plan for her day. I love the good humor of her perspective. I knew that she was joking. She did NOT expect to find her obituary in the paper while she was eating her cream of wheat. Nonetheless, even for me as a child I understood her way of coping with the idea of death within life.
Today, I am ALIVE! I hope, and plan to fill my day with rejoicing, celebration, in the little things, like writing a blog post, playing the piano, even in cleansing my dishes (that last one may be too big of a stretch to find enjoyment). I hope to sing, dance, sing and dance, and then work on laundry. I enjoy the process of taking dirty clothing, and washing, drying, and then folding, creating order where chaos existed.
Today, however, I wish to remember that as Abraham Lincoln said, "It's not about doing what you love, it's about loving what you're doing." That means that when I do the things I dislike, or loathe (dishes are in that last category) I can find ways to make the job bearable. Remember as Mary Poppins said in the Disney movie, "A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, in a most delightful way!"
Are You Old?
I was born old, very, very old. It quickly ages a person when they are unable to draw oxygen into their body. Asthma...in this era is annoying, but there are many, many medications that minimize the effects it has on your body.
That was NOT the case when I was born. There were two treatments in Western medicine for asthma, oxygen, and pounding. Pounding is NOT the proper name, but the treatment involved someone cupping their hands and then pounding on your back. It was miserable, and frightening to a small child. This treatment helped to thin phlegm that caused asthmatics and those with cystic fibrosis such misery. When this substance is too thick it quickly can lead to dangerous infections.
I also remember being encased in an oxygen tent. That meant that my child small body of two or three was placed in a sort of clear plastic filled with the oxygen that enabled me to breathe. I also remember hearing doctors and nurses around me whispering, "She will not live long, she's too highly allergic." I was asthmatic, NOT DEAF!
Why do I discuss this experience? It has had a profound impact on my life as I pass from my middle aged life into my older life. My friends health is now catching up to me. I have struggled with health challenge each and every day of my life. Big things, like breast cancer, to small things, like asthma.
As each year comes and goes I rejoice that I am still here! I hear so many people saying, "Old age is not for sissies!" In my life, NO AGE WAS FOR SISSIES. The things that surprise others in this part of their lives, I have been coping with for ALL OF MY LIFE. That does not make me superior to others, I do still whine and complain extremely well. It DOES grant me a different perspective.
An example is this last year. I had to have all my teeth pulled, and get dentures. Then I had complications causing me to wait an additional four months before I can use my lower dentures. In addition I finally reached the point where it is necessary for me to wear glasses all the time.
At first, as I traveled through this unfamiliar terrain, I was extremely good at complaining about "old age." Then I began to regain my perspective. I have many friends who had to get dentures at a far younger age. I have many friends, who have worn glasses since childhood.
I am entering a brand new decade of life on this birthday. At first I found that a frightening idea...I mean, I'm definitely not young OR middle-aged anymore. Then I remembered my perspective, "I'm still here! I'm still able to learn new things, meet new people, travel to new places, reach new goals, and live life as fully as I possibly can!"
Oh there will be challenges that will flatten me from time to time. The important thing for me to remember is that it's ok to be knocked flat. What is NOT ok, is to stay flat, to give up, give out, or give in!
One of my beloved Grandma's who lived to the ripe old age of 84 used to say that she would get up and get dressed in the morning. Next she would get the newspaper from her front porch. She would eat, and open the page to the obituaries. If she didn't find her obituary in the paper, she would proceed to plan for her day. I love the good humor of her perspective. I knew that she was joking. She did NOT expect to find her obituary in the paper while she was eating her cream of wheat. Nonetheless, even for me as a child I understood her way of coping with the idea of death within life.
Today, I am ALIVE! I hope, and plan to fill my day with rejoicing, celebration, in the little things, like writing a blog post, playing the piano, even in cleansing my dishes (that last one may be too big of a stretch to find enjoyment). I hope to sing, dance, sing and dance, and then work on laundry. I enjoy the process of taking dirty clothing, and washing, drying, and then folding, creating order where chaos existed.
Today, however, I wish to remember that as Abraham Lincoln said, "It's not about doing what you love, it's about loving what you're doing." That means that when I do the things I dislike, or loathe (dishes are in that last category) I can find ways to make the job bearable. Remember as Mary Poppins said in the Disney movie, "A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, in a most delightful way!"
That was NOT the case when I was born. There were two treatments in Western medicine for asthma, oxygen, and pounding. Pounding is NOT the proper name, but the treatment involved someone cupping their hands and then pounding on your back. It was miserable, and frightening to a small child. This treatment helped to thin phlegm that caused asthmatics and those with cystic fibrosis such misery. When this substance is too thick it quickly can lead to dangerous infections.
I also remember being encased in an oxygen tent. That meant that my child small body of two or three was placed in a sort of clear plastic filled with the oxygen that enabled me to breathe. I also remember hearing doctors and nurses around me whispering, "She will not live long, she's too highly allergic." I was asthmatic, NOT DEAF!
Why do I discuss this experience? It has had a profound impact on my life as I pass from my middle aged life into my older life. My friends health is now catching up to me. I have struggled with health challenge each and every day of my life. Big things, like breast cancer, to small things, like asthma.
As each year comes and goes I rejoice that I am still here! I hear so many people saying, "Old age is not for sissies!" In my life, NO AGE WAS FOR SISSIES. The things that surprise others in this part of their lives, I have been coping with for ALL OF MY LIFE. That does not make me superior to others, I do still whine and complain extremely well. It DOES grant me a different perspective.
An example is this last year. I had to have all my teeth pulled, and get dentures. Then I had complications causing me to wait an additional four months before I can use my lower dentures. In addition I finally reached the point where it is necessary for me to wear glasses all the time.
At first, as I traveled through this unfamiliar terrain, I was extremely good at complaining about "old age." Then I began to regain my perspective. I have many friends who had to get dentures at a far younger age. I have many friends, who have worn glasses since childhood.
I am entering a brand new decade of life on this birthday. At first I found that a frightening idea...I mean, I'm definitely not young OR middle-aged anymore. Then I remembered my perspective, "I'm still here! I'm still able to learn new things, meet new people, travel to new places, reach new goals, and live life as fully as I possibly can!"
Oh there will be challenges that will flatten me from time to time. The important thing for me to remember is that it's ok to be knocked flat. What is NOT ok, is to stay flat, to give up, give out, or give in!
One of my beloved Grandma's who lived to the ripe old age of 84 used to say that she would get up and get dressed in the morning. Next she would get the newspaper from her front porch. She would eat, and open the page to the obituaries. If she didn't find her obituary in the paper, she would proceed to plan for her day. I love the good humor of her perspective. I knew that she was joking. She did NOT expect to find her obituary in the paper while she was eating her cream of wheat. Nonetheless, even for me as a child I understood her way of coping with the idea of death within life.
Today, I am ALIVE! I hope, and plan to fill my day with rejoicing, celebration, in the little things, like writing a blog post, playing the piano, even in cleansing my dishes (that last one may be too big of a stretch to find enjoyment). I hope to sing, dance, sing and dance, and then work on laundry. I enjoy the process of taking dirty clothing, and washing, drying, and then folding, creating order where chaos existed.
Today, however, I wish to remember that as Abraham Lincoln said, "It's not about doing what you love, it's about loving what you're doing." That means that when I do the things I dislike, or loathe (dishes are in that last category) I can find ways to make the job bearable. Remember as Mary Poppins said in the Disney movie, "A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, in a most delightful way!"
It Is My Turn
It is my turn, to become old
It is my turn, to find joy
It is my turn, to love and lift
It is my turn, to find peace in conflict
It is my turn, to comfort others in sorrow
It is my turn, to slow down and watch a day change from light to night
It is my turn, to rest well at night
It is my turn, to notice new wrinkles in my face, and be delighted with them
It is my turn, to see my Grandma's and Parent's in the way my face looks now
It is my turn, to listen to music
It is my turn, to sing with joy and with sorrow
It is my turn, to heal old wounds
It is my turn, to solve disagreements with others
It is my turn, to feel the warm breeze in my face
It is my turn, to love my children, love my children, love my children
It is my turn, to help small children slow down, and disconnect from technology
It is my turn, to use technology to improve my life, but keep a balance
It is my turn, to care for my health, but not make it my only priority
It is my turn, to remember the wonderful quote that "a person wrapped up only in himself makes a very small package"
It is my turn, to notice the brilliant green of spring welcomed leaves
It is my turn, to notice the glory of autumn painted leaves
It is my turn, to be patient in affliction
It is my turn, to read poetry
It is my turn, to sing songs, my own, and others
It is my turn, to coax music from an antique piano
It is my turn, to make new friends
It is my turn, to love those older than I am, to learn from them
It is my turn, to be grateful, to count my blessings more than my struggles
It is my turn, my turn, my turn
It is my turn, to find joy
It is my turn, to love and lift
It is my turn, to find peace in conflict
It is my turn, to comfort others in sorrow
It is my turn, to slow down and watch a day change from light to night
It is my turn, to rest well at night
It is my turn, to notice new wrinkles in my face, and be delighted with them
It is my turn, to see my Grandma's and Parent's in the way my face looks now
It is my turn, to listen to music
It is my turn, to sing with joy and with sorrow
It is my turn, to heal old wounds
It is my turn, to solve disagreements with others
It is my turn, to feel the warm breeze in my face
It is my turn, to love my children, love my children, love my children
It is my turn, to help small children slow down, and disconnect from technology
It is my turn, to use technology to improve my life, but keep a balance
It is my turn, to care for my health, but not make it my only priority
It is my turn, to remember the wonderful quote that "a person wrapped up only in himself makes a very small package"
It is my turn, to notice the brilliant green of spring welcomed leaves
It is my turn, to notice the glory of autumn painted leaves
It is my turn, to be patient in affliction
It is my turn, to read poetry
It is my turn, to sing songs, my own, and others
It is my turn, to coax music from an antique piano
It is my turn, to make new friends
It is my turn, to love those older than I am, to learn from them
It is my turn, to be grateful, to count my blessings more than my struggles
It is my turn, my turn, my turn
Tuesday, May 31, 2016
Roses and Perspective
I received a lovely bouquet of roses for Mother's Day from our girls. They were so pretty that even when they started to fade and wither I couldn't make myself throw them away. The odd thing about them was that as long as you were across the room they still looked beautiful. It was when you got close to them you could see that the petals were browning at the part next to the stem, and some of the petals were very withered.
One of the things that I cherish about this point in my life is perspective. That ability to know that you've faced hard things before in your life and you made it through. It's a gift. It tells me that when great loss happens, there WILL be some compensating joy. You CAN survive and better yet, THRIVE in spite of the hard things that you're facing.
I do tend to speak about this idea a lot. For a reason. If anyone is reading this, they may not need to hear this idea repeated. I DO! I never said that I was completely unselfish, I try to be unselfish, but I ALWAYS learn the most from the things that I teach, or write. If you happen to gain something as well, that's awesome!
Have you ever had a "Terrible, awful, no good, very bad day?" There is a delightful book and movie by that name. It's about a young boy named Alexander. His day went from bad to worse. Yet along the way he gained some perspective. He saw things in a creative method.
When your life is dark, and let's face it, we all will have dark days, try this visualization. Imagine an enormous sink with a huge drain. All your problems are represented by marbles. Now you are going to take those problems and either one by one, or all at once, dump them down that big drain. See how they are all sinking, going away, and you can't even see them anymore? Doing this at bedtime is especially helpful. I don't know about you, but my problems seem to grow enormous when I'm trying to go to sleep. This exercise has been very helpful in giving me a peaceful mind to sleep with.
Speaking of sleep, I'm always amazed at the difference a good night's rest makes on my perspective. I feel better able to face life, good, bad, or indifferent when my body has been renewed through rest.
Find yourself stuck? You need a fresh idea, a creative solution, or just some new ideas? Go for a walk, somewhere where you don't usually walk. Dance...if you don't usually dance, even better. Turn on some music that makes you laugh, or feel empowered and dance. If anyone teases you, you will reply, "Come dance with me!" Change...move closer or further away from the rut your mind wishes to stick in.
My dear Mama was far ahead of her time in parenting ideas. For example, when my Brother was frustrated or angry, she sent him off to run. When I was struggling she had me dance, or sing, or both. Now we understand better that these physical activities create feel good endorphins, and serotonin. When Mama was telling us about doing these things she just felt that we needed a positive outlet for our negative emotions. I think that both are right. Creating serotonin and endorphins DO help make a more positive outlet. On the other hand, finding a positive outlet helps produce serotonin and endorphins!
A new day is fast approaching. Today, do something fresh, different. It can be as small as eating somewhere new and different for lunch. Or making a new recipe for dinner. Maybe you want to do something larger? Dance with your honey, at home, or in a store, or where ever you happen to be. Walk, hike, read poetry, go to a horse race (not to bet, just to watch the beauty of horses moving with a need for speed), drive you car on an old road where you need to go slow...roll all the windows down and let the wind whisk your hair into a frenzy.
On this new day, forget all the days that came before (except to remember that you thrived through hard before and you can do it again). Then find a way to renew, rejoice, and rejuvenate. I would LOVE to hear some of the ways that YOU seek renewal.
One of the things that I cherish about this point in my life is perspective. That ability to know that you've faced hard things before in your life and you made it through. It's a gift. It tells me that when great loss happens, there WILL be some compensating joy. You CAN survive and better yet, THRIVE in spite of the hard things that you're facing.
I do tend to speak about this idea a lot. For a reason. If anyone is reading this, they may not need to hear this idea repeated. I DO! I never said that I was completely unselfish, I try to be unselfish, but I ALWAYS learn the most from the things that I teach, or write. If you happen to gain something as well, that's awesome!
Have you ever had a "Terrible, awful, no good, very bad day?" There is a delightful book and movie by that name. It's about a young boy named Alexander. His day went from bad to worse. Yet along the way he gained some perspective. He saw things in a creative method.
When your life is dark, and let's face it, we all will have dark days, try this visualization. Imagine an enormous sink with a huge drain. All your problems are represented by marbles. Now you are going to take those problems and either one by one, or all at once, dump them down that big drain. See how they are all sinking, going away, and you can't even see them anymore? Doing this at bedtime is especially helpful. I don't know about you, but my problems seem to grow enormous when I'm trying to go to sleep. This exercise has been very helpful in giving me a peaceful mind to sleep with.
Speaking of sleep, I'm always amazed at the difference a good night's rest makes on my perspective. I feel better able to face life, good, bad, or indifferent when my body has been renewed through rest.
Find yourself stuck? You need a fresh idea, a creative solution, or just some new ideas? Go for a walk, somewhere where you don't usually walk. Dance...if you don't usually dance, even better. Turn on some music that makes you laugh, or feel empowered and dance. If anyone teases you, you will reply, "Come dance with me!" Change...move closer or further away from the rut your mind wishes to stick in.
My dear Mama was far ahead of her time in parenting ideas. For example, when my Brother was frustrated or angry, she sent him off to run. When I was struggling she had me dance, or sing, or both. Now we understand better that these physical activities create feel good endorphins, and serotonin. When Mama was telling us about doing these things she just felt that we needed a positive outlet for our negative emotions. I think that both are right. Creating serotonin and endorphins DO help make a more positive outlet. On the other hand, finding a positive outlet helps produce serotonin and endorphins!
A new day is fast approaching. Today, do something fresh, different. It can be as small as eating somewhere new and different for lunch. Or making a new recipe for dinner. Maybe you want to do something larger? Dance with your honey, at home, or in a store, or where ever you happen to be. Walk, hike, read poetry, go to a horse race (not to bet, just to watch the beauty of horses moving with a need for speed), drive you car on an old road where you need to go slow...roll all the windows down and let the wind whisk your hair into a frenzy.
On this new day, forget all the days that came before (except to remember that you thrived through hard before and you can do it again). Then find a way to renew, rejoice, and rejuvenate. I would LOVE to hear some of the ways that YOU seek renewal.
Saturday, May 28, 2016
Memorial Day to Remember...Boating?
What a glorious thing it is to remember the lives of those folks who lived and died before us. My life has been enriched an infinite amount of times by learning about the history of PEOPLE on this planet.
In school I found History incredibly B...O...R...I...N...G. I mean, come on, in the grand scheme of things who cares what YEAR Christopher Columbus sailed the ocean blue. Well, actually the native peoples that he enslaved, tortured, and called "Indians," when he was nowhere near India, no doubt care, but that's a topic for a different day.
Once again, Memorial Day is approaching. I have joyous memories of this holiday. My parents would load up the trunk of our car with enormous containers filled with water and flowers they grew themselves. They would weigh the containers down with rocks to keep them from spilling the water they contained.
Once we were laden with flowers, then Mama would pack our things...and I actually think that more than once I witnessed the kitchen sink joining our belongings! OK, probably not, but really and truly, if we were left to survive on the things that Mama packed I think that we could have lasted at least a year. Trust me, that's a conservative estimate.
Once the poor car was so filled that the tires were bulging, we would climb in, and off we would start. I was much younger than my siblings (please remind them of that if you see them), and so I had many golden Memorial Day memories with just my parents after my siblings were married and creating their own Memorial Day wonders. (We did the same Memorial Day wanderings before they were married. I guess I was just too young to remember)?
The drive was punctuated by stops at family tombstones that led from Utah along a wandering path to Idaho. We would sing together such notable hits as, "Old Grumbler is Dead and Laid Under the Ground," (it especially seemed appropriate on Memorial Day), "Oh the Moon Shines Tonight on Pretty Redwing," all the old family songs that we had sung all of my life as we drove hither and yon. I'm serious in saying, I'm certain that I saw YON many, many times in our travels.
We would also play car games. One involved looking for things on a list. The list that I'm certain my parents had created. You won immediately if you saw an outhouse with the door open, or a white horse. It had to be completely and totally white, the horse, not the outhouse, what were you thinking? Wink...sorry, you'll have to provide your own emoticon for the word wink.
As we wound down from those enjoyable activities my parents would tell me family stories. One of my favorites was about Jane Tinto McKechnie Bee Hatch, (her name is so pretty). She and her Mother were widowed at almost the same time in Scotland. They joined the Church of Jesus Christ of latter day saints. Their wish to be joined with others of their faith motivated them to leave all that was familiar. They left their old life in the quest for a better life.
Janette (the Mama) married after arriving in Utah. There were stories passed down through the family that it was not the happiest of marriages. She was buried in a small cemetery. Her grave was left for over a hundred years unmarked, unregistered. My Mama's family organization discovered where she had been buried, and they all contributed to get her a tombstone. That was one of the places we went each year.
This was before I realized that the flowers we were placing carefully on each grave that we visited were only symbols. Important symbols, to be sure, but symbols. My parents lovingly gardened. Our enormous garden was their happy place. They had planted, nurtured, and witnessed the growth of each and every bloom. Those flowers meant far more to them than any carefully arranged flower shop creation ever could.
Remembrance was the symbol of these flowers. My parents taught me that each of us has a backstory, a heritage that must be remembered. It's not about being stuck in the past, especially if your past has more negative than positive. It's about using the past as an example, a template to guide our lives in the present.
These two intrepid grannies of mine, (back to the story) left their past homeland, heritage, and traditions, to carve out a new future for themselves and their children. Literally, because of them, and their children, entirely new settlements were carved out, places where many reap the blessings of their sacrifice.
I always felt closely connected to Jane Tinto McKechnie Bee Hatch. I love the rich Scottish march of her surnames, and the stories that they tell.
I often dreamed of traveling to Scotland. I wanted to be physically in the place and space where she spent the first portion of her life. My husband, and our two adult children traveled there. We sat on a bench and ate lunch. The area around the bench had not changed much in two hundred years. The same rowhouses were behind us. The same lovely church was in front of us. In my unlimited imagination, she were there to meet us. I could imagine her speaking with her Scottish accent.
Why is Memorial Day important? It's a lovely thing to have a paid vacation. I believe most folks these days see it as another day to boat, hike, bike, any and all of which are worthwhile occupations. Maybe, just maybe, as you take your family to bike, hike, etc. you could tell them stories. The very best types of stories, the stories about who they came from, and what the ancestor's life experience taught them.
Passing our heritage along to the next generation may lend them a source or serenity in times of conflict and trial. We all need examples. Inspiration from examples of the past can enrich our lives. Even when the examples are negative (there is a reason for that skeletons in the closet phrase), we can see that we wish to do better, be better!
You don't need to literally decorate the tombstones of your family. I believe that they wish to be remembered and don't really care where you perform that activity. I realize that in today's fast paced, technology driven lives it can be easy to overlook remembrance. Maybe, just maybe you can sneak one story in while your teenagers are stuck in a boat, and can't escape to their bedrooms, or their technology. I believe that those beloved folks who lived and died before us, those same people that often sacrificed so much for their families, are watching US. They are witnessing what we are doing with this precious time that we call life.
One last story. When we moved to Portland, Memorial Day made me very sad. We were not near enough to drive to any of he cemeteries that I had visited with my parents in the past. I had wanted to pass on my parents tradition of remembering all those loved ones who had passed away.
Then the inspiration hit! We could adopt a grave. In the 19th century people were buried in cemeteries with no maintenance performed except by the family members. Literally, Memorial Day was used as a day to clean and improve graveyards where your loved ones were buried. I remember in my childhood going to the small cemetery of my paternal grandparents. It was a party. People would come in the morning, and decorate their family plots. They would bring cookies, or lemonade, sandwiches galore, potato salad, all types of delicious foods. The family would stay all day connecting with loved ones as they came to honor their dead. It was a grand family reunion.
I believe that each and every human born on this planet is connected. I believe that we are brothers and sisters. With this philosophy, we adopted a grave that seemed to be particularly neglected. One tombstone we literally had to dig up out of the earth each and every year. It was the humblest stone that I had ever witnessed. It was made from some sort of heavy aluminum. An electric pen was used to scratch the name and dates. Helen Klaypacz. She was in the humblest part of the graveyard. There was a section where people were buried when they had no family, and no resources. Helen was in this section. Year after year, we would again dig her tombstone up, up, out of the thick Oregon peat.
Why? Why did we care about a total stranger? She wasn't a total stranger to us. She became family as we lovingly cared for this final resting place of her earthly life. I don't know if our girls learned from this simple activity. I DID! I learned how important it is to remember the lives of others. I learned that this type of simple service created a special feeling of love in my heart.
In the Old Testament in the Bible a prophet named Malachi spoke of a time when he would, "Turn the hearts of the children to their Father's, and the hearts of the Father's to the children..." Connection, remembrance, memorial, all these words are important, but especially on Memorial Day.
In school I found History incredibly B...O...R...I...N...G. I mean, come on, in the grand scheme of things who cares what YEAR Christopher Columbus sailed the ocean blue. Well, actually the native peoples that he enslaved, tortured, and called "Indians," when he was nowhere near India, no doubt care, but that's a topic for a different day.
Once again, Memorial Day is approaching. I have joyous memories of this holiday. My parents would load up the trunk of our car with enormous containers filled with water and flowers they grew themselves. They would weigh the containers down with rocks to keep them from spilling the water they contained.
Once we were laden with flowers, then Mama would pack our things...and I actually think that more than once I witnessed the kitchen sink joining our belongings! OK, probably not, but really and truly, if we were left to survive on the things that Mama packed I think that we could have lasted at least a year. Trust me, that's a conservative estimate.
Once the poor car was so filled that the tires were bulging, we would climb in, and off we would start. I was much younger than my siblings (please remind them of that if you see them), and so I had many golden Memorial Day memories with just my parents after my siblings were married and creating their own Memorial Day wonders. (We did the same Memorial Day wanderings before they were married. I guess I was just too young to remember)?
The drive was punctuated by stops at family tombstones that led from Utah along a wandering path to Idaho. We would sing together such notable hits as, "Old Grumbler is Dead and Laid Under the Ground," (it especially seemed appropriate on Memorial Day), "Oh the Moon Shines Tonight on Pretty Redwing," all the old family songs that we had sung all of my life as we drove hither and yon. I'm serious in saying, I'm certain that I saw YON many, many times in our travels.
We would also play car games. One involved looking for things on a list. The list that I'm certain my parents had created. You won immediately if you saw an outhouse with the door open, or a white horse. It had to be completely and totally white, the horse, not the outhouse, what were you thinking? Wink...sorry, you'll have to provide your own emoticon for the word wink.
As we wound down from those enjoyable activities my parents would tell me family stories. One of my favorites was about Jane Tinto McKechnie Bee Hatch, (her name is so pretty). She and her Mother were widowed at almost the same time in Scotland. They joined the Church of Jesus Christ of latter day saints. Their wish to be joined with others of their faith motivated them to leave all that was familiar. They left their old life in the quest for a better life.
Janette (the Mama) married after arriving in Utah. There were stories passed down through the family that it was not the happiest of marriages. She was buried in a small cemetery. Her grave was left for over a hundred years unmarked, unregistered. My Mama's family organization discovered where she had been buried, and they all contributed to get her a tombstone. That was one of the places we went each year.
This was before I realized that the flowers we were placing carefully on each grave that we visited were only symbols. Important symbols, to be sure, but symbols. My parents lovingly gardened. Our enormous garden was their happy place. They had planted, nurtured, and witnessed the growth of each and every bloom. Those flowers meant far more to them than any carefully arranged flower shop creation ever could.
Remembrance was the symbol of these flowers. My parents taught me that each of us has a backstory, a heritage that must be remembered. It's not about being stuck in the past, especially if your past has more negative than positive. It's about using the past as an example, a template to guide our lives in the present.
These two intrepid grannies of mine, (back to the story) left their past homeland, heritage, and traditions, to carve out a new future for themselves and their children. Literally, because of them, and their children, entirely new settlements were carved out, places where many reap the blessings of their sacrifice.
I always felt closely connected to Jane Tinto McKechnie Bee Hatch. I love the rich Scottish march of her surnames, and the stories that they tell.
I often dreamed of traveling to Scotland. I wanted to be physically in the place and space where she spent the first portion of her life. My husband, and our two adult children traveled there. We sat on a bench and ate lunch. The area around the bench had not changed much in two hundred years. The same rowhouses were behind us. The same lovely church was in front of us. In my unlimited imagination, she were there to meet us. I could imagine her speaking with her Scottish accent.
Why is Memorial Day important? It's a lovely thing to have a paid vacation. I believe most folks these days see it as another day to boat, hike, bike, any and all of which are worthwhile occupations. Maybe, just maybe, as you take your family to bike, hike, etc. you could tell them stories. The very best types of stories, the stories about who they came from, and what the ancestor's life experience taught them.
Passing our heritage along to the next generation may lend them a source or serenity in times of conflict and trial. We all need examples. Inspiration from examples of the past can enrich our lives. Even when the examples are negative (there is a reason for that skeletons in the closet phrase), we can see that we wish to do better, be better!
You don't need to literally decorate the tombstones of your family. I believe that they wish to be remembered and don't really care where you perform that activity. I realize that in today's fast paced, technology driven lives it can be easy to overlook remembrance. Maybe, just maybe you can sneak one story in while your teenagers are stuck in a boat, and can't escape to their bedrooms, or their technology. I believe that those beloved folks who lived and died before us, those same people that often sacrificed so much for their families, are watching US. They are witnessing what we are doing with this precious time that we call life.
One last story. When we moved to Portland, Memorial Day made me very sad. We were not near enough to drive to any of he cemeteries that I had visited with my parents in the past. I had wanted to pass on my parents tradition of remembering all those loved ones who had passed away.
Then the inspiration hit! We could adopt a grave. In the 19th century people were buried in cemeteries with no maintenance performed except by the family members. Literally, Memorial Day was used as a day to clean and improve graveyards where your loved ones were buried. I remember in my childhood going to the small cemetery of my paternal grandparents. It was a party. People would come in the morning, and decorate their family plots. They would bring cookies, or lemonade, sandwiches galore, potato salad, all types of delicious foods. The family would stay all day connecting with loved ones as they came to honor their dead. It was a grand family reunion.
I believe that each and every human born on this planet is connected. I believe that we are brothers and sisters. With this philosophy, we adopted a grave that seemed to be particularly neglected. One tombstone we literally had to dig up out of the earth each and every year. It was the humblest stone that I had ever witnessed. It was made from some sort of heavy aluminum. An electric pen was used to scratch the name and dates. Helen Klaypacz. She was in the humblest part of the graveyard. There was a section where people were buried when they had no family, and no resources. Helen was in this section. Year after year, we would again dig her tombstone up, up, out of the thick Oregon peat.
Why? Why did we care about a total stranger? She wasn't a total stranger to us. She became family as we lovingly cared for this final resting place of her earthly life. I don't know if our girls learned from this simple activity. I DID! I learned how important it is to remember the lives of others. I learned that this type of simple service created a special feeling of love in my heart.
In the Old Testament in the Bible a prophet named Malachi spoke of a time when he would, "Turn the hearts of the children to their Father's, and the hearts of the Father's to the children..." Connection, remembrance, memorial, all these words are important, but especially on Memorial Day.
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
To Life L'Chaim
I wish to initially clarify what I mean when I speak of happiness, or joy. I am not discussing the transitory nature of fun, or pleasure. To me, happiness and joy are on a deeper life level. There actually IS the possibility that you can be happy in the most difficult of circumstance.
Greatness isn't about being born with privilege. Greatness is about doing the best you possibly can with the life that you've been given. My friend George Watanabe's quote, paraphrased a bit by me.
These words have been ringing through my soul. I already knew that greatness was not necessarily shown by a splendid house, fancy cars, and designer clothes. An example? My youngest daughter was in the restroom at her middle school. Two other girls came in. One was complaining to the other, "My clothes are not all the same designer! My Mother didn't get all of them washed in time!"
My girl was amazed. Her life had been a little different. Most of her clothing had come from thrift stores (proudly so), clearance sales, and hand me downs. There were rarely any "designer labels," in her wardrobe. She was totally puzzled by the foolishness of these girls worrying that their underwear were a different designer label than her outerwear. She later said to me, "Nobody should even be seeing your underwear! Who cares what label is on it!"
I'm NOT saying that it is evil to have money. Great wealth can bless ever so many lives in ever so many ways! Think of Bill Gates and his lovely wife. They have put millions of dollars into the world. They are firm believers in giving back.
I also believe that with great money and resources there should be a higher level of responsibility in how those assets are used. I realize that defining this can be very tricky. With wealth often comes lots, and lots of people with their hands outstretched. I think most people have heard horror stories about lottery winners and how they are bombarded by requests for sharing the wealth.
I honor some of those that chose their financial blessings as ways to help their entire family. Celine Dion is a grand example of that. She was born into a very large family. As her career sky rocketed she shared with siblings, nieces, and nephews. Her success translated immediately with love into blessings for her family.
A debate goes on, does money create happiness? There are ever so many examples of wealthy people killing themselves, or leading absolutely miserable lives. Wealthy folks with young children worry about kidnapping of those precious children, think about the son of Charles Lindberg. The father was a famous airplane pilot that flew around the world. He was the first to achieve that goal. When his son was kidnapped and then found killed, none of that wealth could comfort him.
On the other hand, is poverty the answer for happiness? Surely not. There are far too many people who can't afford to feed themselves, or their children. In my own life I have felt the fear of not knowing if I can pay my bills. In those times I was aware that I could face many negative consequences due to that lack.
What IS the source of happiness in life? Is there only one source? I believe that there are as many sources of happiness as there are people.
Being able to dance brings me great happiness. I live with invisible disability. Nobody can see the damage from the tip of my neck to the base of my tailbone. Pain can't be seen unless you know what to look for. I was a dancer in my youth. Being able to dance again is a huge blessing to me.
The greatest source of my happiness is my faith in God. Believing that there IS a purpose to this life, and that there is a Creator who created this world for us, brings me joy.
I had a neighbor that was a psychologist. She chose to work with children that suffered with post traumatic stress disorder. She saw the worst of the worst, children who had faced horrors of abuse and neglect. Her belief was that there was no God, no purpose in our suffering, sorrow faced is random, and death is the end of existence. Her way was obviously not my way. Yet I validate her choice as giving her sense in the senseless. The sense to her was that life is completely random, and we needed to make the most of our lives because there was nothing more.
Am I right, is she wrong? It does NOT matter. What matters is how we find our way through the twisting, turning, confusing maze that life is from time to time. Both of us had systems that worked for us.
I am NEVER saying that causing harm to others, or choosing addictive behaviors of any type, sex, food, drugs, etc. are appropriate answers to life's difficulties. Using these behaviors will NEVER lead to happiness. They may bring transitory pleasure, but that pleasure will quickly be followed by consequence and sorrow.
Today, this very moment as you read this post, make a goal for yourself. Life is busy. Do not choose to make that an excuse not to take my challenge. We all have twenty-four hours. We all have the choice to fill them as we see fit. So squeeze out a few minutes. This is the challenge, take half an hour and do what brings you genuine, healthy, joy. If that means being with your children, or husband, or other family or friends. If that means going on a walk, or hike, do it. Maybe your happiness comes in serving others, or reading a very good book. You may be surprised how one half hour, thirty short minutes of happiness can change your entire outlook. Squeeze in TODAY moments of pure happiness.
This life is so very precious. It is also fragile. I have had the honor of being present as caregiver to dear friends and family as they made their journey into death. It never fails to amaze me that one moment we're alive, and then we're not. Well not in the same way that is. Use the fragility of life to motivate you to stretch, challenge, and improve, TODAY!
Greatness isn't about being born with privilege. Greatness is about doing the best you possibly can with the life that you've been given. My friend George Watanabe's quote, paraphrased a bit by me.
These words have been ringing through my soul. I already knew that greatness was not necessarily shown by a splendid house, fancy cars, and designer clothes. An example? My youngest daughter was in the restroom at her middle school. Two other girls came in. One was complaining to the other, "My clothes are not all the same designer! My Mother didn't get all of them washed in time!"
My girl was amazed. Her life had been a little different. Most of her clothing had come from thrift stores (proudly so), clearance sales, and hand me downs. There were rarely any "designer labels," in her wardrobe. She was totally puzzled by the foolishness of these girls worrying that their underwear were a different designer label than her outerwear. She later said to me, "Nobody should even be seeing your underwear! Who cares what label is on it!"
I'm NOT saying that it is evil to have money. Great wealth can bless ever so many lives in ever so many ways! Think of Bill Gates and his lovely wife. They have put millions of dollars into the world. They are firm believers in giving back.
I also believe that with great money and resources there should be a higher level of responsibility in how those assets are used. I realize that defining this can be very tricky. With wealth often comes lots, and lots of people with their hands outstretched. I think most people have heard horror stories about lottery winners and how they are bombarded by requests for sharing the wealth.
I honor some of those that chose their financial blessings as ways to help their entire family. Celine Dion is a grand example of that. She was born into a very large family. As her career sky rocketed she shared with siblings, nieces, and nephews. Her success translated immediately with love into blessings for her family.
A debate goes on, does money create happiness? There are ever so many examples of wealthy people killing themselves, or leading absolutely miserable lives. Wealthy folks with young children worry about kidnapping of those precious children, think about the son of Charles Lindberg. The father was a famous airplane pilot that flew around the world. He was the first to achieve that goal. When his son was kidnapped and then found killed, none of that wealth could comfort him.
On the other hand, is poverty the answer for happiness? Surely not. There are far too many people who can't afford to feed themselves, or their children. In my own life I have felt the fear of not knowing if I can pay my bills. In those times I was aware that I could face many negative consequences due to that lack.
What IS the source of happiness in life? Is there only one source? I believe that there are as many sources of happiness as there are people.
Being able to dance brings me great happiness. I live with invisible disability. Nobody can see the damage from the tip of my neck to the base of my tailbone. Pain can't be seen unless you know what to look for. I was a dancer in my youth. Being able to dance again is a huge blessing to me.
The greatest source of my happiness is my faith in God. Believing that there IS a purpose to this life, and that there is a Creator who created this world for us, brings me joy.
I had a neighbor that was a psychologist. She chose to work with children that suffered with post traumatic stress disorder. She saw the worst of the worst, children who had faced horrors of abuse and neglect. Her belief was that there was no God, no purpose in our suffering, sorrow faced is random, and death is the end of existence. Her way was obviously not my way. Yet I validate her choice as giving her sense in the senseless. The sense to her was that life is completely random, and we needed to make the most of our lives because there was nothing more.
Am I right, is she wrong? It does NOT matter. What matters is how we find our way through the twisting, turning, confusing maze that life is from time to time. Both of us had systems that worked for us.
I am NEVER saying that causing harm to others, or choosing addictive behaviors of any type, sex, food, drugs, etc. are appropriate answers to life's difficulties. Using these behaviors will NEVER lead to happiness. They may bring transitory pleasure, but that pleasure will quickly be followed by consequence and sorrow.
Today, this very moment as you read this post, make a goal for yourself. Life is busy. Do not choose to make that an excuse not to take my challenge. We all have twenty-four hours. We all have the choice to fill them as we see fit. So squeeze out a few minutes. This is the challenge, take half an hour and do what brings you genuine, healthy, joy. If that means being with your children, or husband, or other family or friends. If that means going on a walk, or hike, do it. Maybe your happiness comes in serving others, or reading a very good book. You may be surprised how one half hour, thirty short minutes of happiness can change your entire outlook. Squeeze in TODAY moments of pure happiness.
This life is so very precious. It is also fragile. I have had the honor of being present as caregiver to dear friends and family as they made their journey into death. It never fails to amaze me that one moment we're alive, and then we're not. Well not in the same way that is. Use the fragility of life to motivate you to stretch, challenge, and improve, TODAY!
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