Monthly Archives: June 2016

Second chances

30 Thursday Jun 2016

Posted by in Dreaming, Gratitude, Reading, Sabbatical, Transformation

≈ Leave a comment

I just finished reading a book called Life’s Golden Ticket by Brendon Burchard. Burchard is a man who survived a car accident that should have killed him, but he is alive and well.  20160630_133921The story is not about him; it’s about another man who struggles to give himself a second chance when his fiancée walks out on him.  It’s a good read; you should check it out.

Anyway, it got me to thinking about my own second chances. 20160630_133731For one thing, I love second-hand and consignment stores. I get excited at the good deals, but more than that, I really get into repurposing things and giving them a new life.  Some of my favorite finds: an old metal toolbox I have turned into a craft carry-all; a birdcage that became some yard art; a towel rack I turned into a 20160630_133818magazine rack; and a dish rack turned into file stacker. Among the best good-as-new things I have acquired include a Gillio Compagna leather planner and a massage chair.20160630_133850

And then, of course, there is my second chance at life as a solo/single woman – with kids, grandkids, dogs, and a mortgage.  Deciding what to be now, where to be, how to be…all that being unattached in a ring-finger way means.  20160630_133620This sabbatical has been such a blessing, giving me time to think, to rest, to dream, to explore, and get messy. I just see how I ever would have embarked on this journey of having my own small business if I been on the magic carpet that swept me off my feet, again.

Interestingly enough, I have planned and tested these consultant/speaker waters before. I was a freelancer back in the late 80’s, but when my safety net quit his job, I went back to a “real job.” I thought about it again when I had to write a business plan in college, but I didn’t want to do the required travel when I had kids in school. I toyed with it a little and picked up some side jobs (working vacation days) the next time I thought about it, but the travel again anchored me at home. Besides, I got very comfortable in the salary trappings.  20160630_133826

This book has come along at the exact right time. I need constant support right now to keep the flywheel of momentum spinning, propelling me forward, pushing me to open doors held by new people.  I’ve learned inspiration and support don’t always come in the form of a person or a seminar, and this book reminded me, too, that my own memories and the voices I hear in my head (my intuition, in case you are wondering) are powerful tools.  I even get to put words in Kevin’s mouth when I am really on a roll!

We all get second, and third, and fourth and more chances if we just accept what is offered…or if we ask for what we want and need. I am now thinking of them as blessings instead of screw-ups that need fixing. Each chance (or blessing) gives me the opportunity to try something new, to throw off what isn’t working, to play and imagine. In other words, to really live and keep on living.  I’m happy for my second chances. Are you?

 

Advertisement

Dragonflies

27 Monday Jun 2016

Posted by in Traditions, Transformation, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

There is a story about a woman grieving the death of her daughter, or maybe it’s the other way around. Anyway, the one asks for a sign that the other is okay in heaven, and her yard is suddenly filled with dragonflies – which the other one had loved. It was the sign.

This story (or a version of it) was told at the funeral of my mom Elsie in 2002. At the church, it was just a nice story. Until we got home later that day.  My brother pulled open the drapes to let in some sunlight, and there near the window, behind the drapes, was a dragonfly wind chime my mother must have put there. (Sidebar: my mom didn’t really like wind chimes; she thought they were noisy.) This discovery caused all of us to pause for a bit, each of us remembering the story told at the funeral.

Since then, dragonflies have become a “thing” in our family.  At last count, I had about 58 of them in or around my house, depending on whether you counted a string of lights as one or as 10, and decorated flip-flops at 2 or 20 (I did not count in 10’s and 20’s.). Since then, most birthday gifts and often the Christmas gifts have some dragonfly motif on them – for everyone in the family.

I recently came across an article about the symbolism of the dragonfly.  In almost every part of the world, it symbolizes change, the kind of change that is about the deeper meaning of life. Dragonflies also represent power and poise, because it is so agile and can move in all six directions (up, down, forward, backward, and side to side). A dragonfly can fly faster than my old Schwinn scooter could run (45 mph v. 30 mph).  And a dragonfly represents simplicity because it is so effective and efficient in how much power it uses (compared to other insects) to what it does – and with graceful movements at that.

Because of their short lifespan (only a few months), it seems to me they really excel at living in the moment, moving away from and toward their desires with 360* insight. Ah, the wonderful, beautiful dragonfly.

I thought of it more than usual today because I have been working on some tedious details of the new business, but when I went out to get the mail, I had an escort of dragonflies. They t20160627_170628old me to slow down, to remember the dance, to smell the flowers. They will take care of moving in six directions at once; all I have to do is watch them.

It’s satisfying – it’s calming -it’s …. it’s important and it makes me feel good to be welcomed by my dragonflies wherever I go. And to have my kids or grandchildren or nieces or other family stay connected to me and each other through our dragonflies. Once in while, we all get the same gift with the dragonfly on it, but sometimes they are all different, as we are different, too. It’s a game to find one the others don’t have, or that they would love. We, too, beyond the surface and look deeper into our relationships and other aspects of our lives. The amazing dragonfly, whose gifts come with age and maturity, keeps us mindful to live without regrets.

What do you share with  your family that keeps you connected, even when things change? What have you kept over the years, to remind you of your connections? Do you keep them out where people can admire them, or are they tucked away for your eyes only?

The Break-in

23 Thursday Jun 2016

Posted by in Transformation, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

I was headed out to have lunch with a friend, my arms holding a purse, a bag of her things I was returning to her, and some library books that needed to be returned. The car was in the driveway, where it had been parked overnight. I opened the front passenger door and immediately saw some candy on the front seat. It was mine, and it had been in the center console. Which had been closed but was now open. I looked over to the driver side and noticed that my Owner’s Manual to the car, which had also been in the console, was out on the seat. Needless to say, I was late to lunch. I wasn’t exactly rattled, and I wasn’t even scared.  I was pi**ed off, and mad at myself because I figured it was maybe my own fault. Luckily, no damage to the car, but there was still a trespass if not a full break-in. .

The first question the officer asked me was if my car had been locked. I didn’t know. I usually lock it, but I have the kind of key fob that opens the door automatically when you are near it, and I just don’t recall if I heard the beep or not. It’s possible the car was unlocked.  What was missing?  My iPhone 5 that I only use because it has my music on it, and its charging cord. I have a new Samsung phone now that was in the house with me. The charging cord for that was in the car but it was not taken. I had a Tom Tom GPS in the car, and it wasn’t taken. CDs, still there.  A few dollars in change, still there.  Coats, umbrellas, blankets, maps, still there.

This has never happened to me before – a break-in, or theft. It turned out that about 20 homes in the area reported thefts from vehicles that same day. Including the people directly across the street from me. He had locked his truck, and left his wallet and several other things in his cab. They only took the gear from the back end under his locked topper. Which was later found in the trees a half block away. Someone else’s Tom Tom was found – I guess that’s why they didn’t need mine!  My phone is still missing.

Anyway, I felt better that I wasn’t singled out or targeted for this. Still, the first person I wanted to call was Kevin. He couldn’t have prevented it, he couldn’t have fixed it, he couldn’t have done anything…but he would have listened to me blow off steam. I miss that. And I know it’s one way I have of maintaining my balance, so I did had to tell someone. Luckily I had that lunch date set up, so Debra was my relief valve.

This incident reminded me, too, of other times I had to fly solo, even when I was married. I had a car accident once in New Mexico, and I was by myself. I fell out of the garage attic once in South Dakota (the ladder fell, leaving me no choice), and I was by myself.  I tripped on the deck stairs here and landed on my arse, and I was by myself. After I got off the phone with the police, I remembered these other times and that I had handled them by myself and adequately if not well. It made me feel  competent, even if I had forgotten to lock the car. (Oddly, not much has happened when I haven’t been married…so I guess that’s something to think about!)

When I think about living alone these days, I haven’t been scared or felt vulnerable or insecure, even when traveling by myself.  In fact, I feel strong, smart, and capable.  Yet, since I don’t have Kevin to protect me or beat up my tormentors for me, I had recently taken a self-defense course. I just wish I had seen or heard my thief so I could have had a chance to try out a few of my new moves while they were still fresh on my mind. I’m pretty sure I could have made him/her wish they had not chosen me to mess with. “Not here, not now, not you.” Kick, jab, shove, run.  But for all that bravado, I really hope I never have to use those skills. And now you can hear every car up and down the street beep-beeping as they get locked when we turn in.

If you find an iPhone with a pink and teal rubber protector case, it’s mine. I’d like it back. I just downloaded the new Blake Shelton CD….

 

Pieces of the Grieving Process

20 Monday Jun 2016

Posted by in Grief, Traditions, Transformation

≈ 1 Comment

Yesterday morning I made myself some pancakes for breakfast. As I got out the plate from the cupboard, I was suddenly struck by the blah-ness of that plate.  I have used these plates for about a year and a half. Guess what happened a year and a half ago?? Yes, you guessed it; I started the next phase of my life.  I used to have these very pretty plates that I worked hard for, and I mean worked. I wanted them but didn’t want to pay the retail price, so I took a job selling Princess House products to earn them. It took me about a year to buy the full set and the stainless steel pots and pans, plus a few pretty bowls (I love big bowls!).  BTW, both sets of dishes are PH.

A few days after Kevin died, for some reason (subconscious, I’m sure), I put the pretty plates away and began using the clear glass plates and cereal bowls.  In fact,  I have never really liked the clear plates since I got those.  I can’t imagine buying a set like that now.  Anyway, before my pancakes got cold, I pulled the pretty set from where they had been stored and replaced the clear ones in the cabinet.  I am sure my pancakes tasted better! I know I felt better.

I had just finished breakfast when my phone rang, and it was a long-time friend of mine. Josie lost her husband Mike after a very quick diagnosis of pancreatic cancer in January of 2000, so 16 years ago.  I told her about the dishes, and she said, “Oh, Pat, I did the same thing!”  She said she sat at the table and cried one night shortly after Mike’s funeral, and it was because the dishes reminded her of Mike. She put them in a box and the next day went and bought a new set of dishes she has used ever since. We laughed over that, wondering what it was about the dishes. She has not regretted getting rid of her first set; I just put mine away in the bottom of the cupboards.

Later on I went upstairs for something and glanced at my bed.  It’s the same bed we shared, and I haven’t even changed the quilt, although sometimes I flip it over when I’m too lazy to wash it and so buy me a few more days. Oddly, I sleep on his side of the bed now, but when I’m in another bed in a hotel or at my sister’s, I sleep on “my” side. And I park on my side of the driveway still.  I sit at my same place at the dinner table. I sit at the same end of the couch when watching a movie. And I use my same sink at the double-sink vanity in the bathroom. But I gave away his recliner, his truck, and his boat, and I sold his motorcycle.

Why do certain things affect us the way they do, and others don’t? I can’t say.  Why do some things strike us as appropriate or inappropriate, acceptable or unacceptable, or necessary or unnecessary in the early days of our grief…and then shift again later (or not), as we move along in the grieving process and on through the days. This grief is a bit mercurial. I’m just glad I can laugh about it now. And I am okay with not having the answers. I just like noting that it is what it is.

Do you have a dish preference above? It’s okay either way; I’ve made up my mind which one I’m using, so I’m not looking for advice or agreement. I’m just curious.

 

This version of me

16 Thursday Jun 2016

Posted by in Gratitude, Grief, New Biz, Transformation

≈ Leave a comment

There are 11 things on my To Do list for today. Most of them were there yesterday, too, and some of them were also on the list Tuesday and Monday.  I should have come back from my trip home relaxed and refreshed and ready to do things. I came back with a handful of powerful questions AGAIN.

Should I pack up and move back to where my siblings are? Should I move closer to or very near to my children and grandchildren? How would things be different if I moved? What will my life be like if I stay?  Can I do this on my own? Now that I have stepped onto the path of The Next Thing, I should be more certain, right?

The good news is that “powerful” questions are those that empower you when you can think about them without getting overanxious, or that you can live with even when you don’t have the answers. Powerful questions propel you deeper and wider into discovering who you are, so you can BE even when you DO. This past year and a  half has seen a lot of time when I was feeling lost, which I now think means that my feelings were lost. Slow motion is not the same as slowing down. I was on autopilot way too often, and I didn’t honor my feelings. I just tried to wait them out, until I couldn’t any more.  When I realized I had to express them, and that I could express them, and I did express them, I let go of so much anxiety, fear, insecurity.  At the same time, I took in so much calmness and freshness and lightness.

Here is what it’s been like to feel my feelings just in these past couple of weeks. I was enchanted with the farmlands and the peacefulness of the Minnesota landscape. I was joyful to be riding around with my sisters, going for tats, shopping, and birthday dinner.  I was proud to have my brother show me around his workplace, and I noticed I missed male comraderie (admit it – they just think differently than women do). I was very happy to spend an evening with Kevin’s kids and grandkids, and to feel the peace of being connected to him. I felt like the old me again when I had dinner with two former co-workers who “knew me when.” And I laughed again with two good friends who knew me before I was with Kevin.  In all those ways and more, I was the old me again, and it felt good.

Then I came home Friday and jumped right into a packed schedule.  I went to an educational class on Sunday night, and I got pumped up because I learned something new, something that made sense, something that will definitely work for me. On Monday morning, I had breakfast with a good friend here, and I came away feeling so positive about myself. I spent that evening in a speaker academy class, and I was actively engaged in the discussions. Tuesday I stayed in bed with dogs until 11:30, and I loved every minute of not having to get up.  I spent part of the afternoon at the library, loving the freedom to go in the middle of the day. Wednesday I went to a networking event for women, and I met some fabulous new people and participated in a Wisdom Circle. It’s a forum I have been looking for, and I was completely satisfied I had found it.  Last night I went for ice cream with another friend and again felt a certainty about The Next Thing. I’ve read two books in two days, once sitting on my deck for an afternoon in the warm sun.  I was just doing what felt good to me.  Both here and while on my trip.

So what I know is this.  I cannot give up the wonderful flexibility of working from home, for myself.  I am willing to work hard to keep that. I have love in my life, and blossoming friendships, and intellectual stimulation…all things I need and will not give up on. I have learned to appreciate the moment, and I am pretty good these days at catching myself while in that flow as it is happening.  I have learned to slow down even while keeping busy.  I have an abundance of wonderful people and things and experiences in my life.  It doesn’t matter where I am, because this is the real me, the me I want to be.  So I will stay a little longer because I like this version of me.  I’ll just make sure to visit Minnesota (and my families) more often.

I got a tat!

13 Monday Jun 2016

Posted by in Transformation

≈ 8 Comments

I got my first (and last and only) tattoo about 10 days ago.  Yes, it hurt!! It wasn’t some random act of rebellion; it was a sign of solidarity with my sisters who also each got one. Usually we do things the same, but thankfully, we each chose what we wanted  instead of settling for a single message.

I got a bow and arrow, after some deliberation. No, not because Kevin was a hunter. I decided that something as permanent as a tattoo had to have perpetual meaning for me. One of very favorite quotes is from the poet Kahlil Gibran, and his book The Prophet is the basis of my most of my philosophy of life. I studied it in a humanities class in high school, and it has stuck with me these past 40 years. There is a chapter in this book that reads:

Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, and though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

…

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth. The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far. Let your bending in the Archer’s hand be for gladness. For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves the bow that is stable.

I have interpreted this in my tattoo.  I am in the bow from which my children have been sent forth into the world, and they have indeed gone swift and far.  I am also an arrow from the bow that was my parents. My marriage was a bow, from which Kevin has gone forth to the infinite, and from which I am now soaring on my own path. The picture of my tattoo is next to the one from Gibran’s book.

Gibran’s drawing from The Prophet

Do you have a tattoo? If so, what does it represent? If not, what would it be about if you were to get one? I’d like to hear from you.

 

 

On the road again

01 Wednesday Jun 2016

Posted by in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

It is high school graduation time, so I’m heading to Minnesota to celebrate with a goddaughter and a godson.  I stopped to see Kevin’s mom on the way and had a great visit. I’ll be seeing my siblings soon and am anticipating that our annual birthday bash will live up our expectations (tattoos on the agenda this time).

 

It’s a long drive from Virginia, as in DAYS long. But I’m glad I drove, especially this time of year. Except for the occasional dark skies and thunderstorms.  I love the green fields, the farmsteads, the cows, the tractors. It’s all so peaceful looking, so wholesome, so natural. And the vistas are wonderful – you can see for miles. One frustration I’ve had in Virginia is that all the trees mean you can’t see much. It’s not exactly claustrophobic, but it doesn’t inspire me to breathe deeply and relax the way the wide open spaces do.

Another great thing about a road trip is the time to empty out the brain and let the mind wander…while paying attention to the driving, of course. At home, I  rarely take long stretches of time to not think, or to daydream about what I’m seeing – to put on my Observer hat. No judgments, just seeing what there is to see. It’s really quite freeing to see without analyzing or labeling or judging.

The closer I get to “home,” the better I feel. I miss my furry boys and kind of wish I had brought them. But it’s better for them to stay with the house sitter. Less stress for all of us. I see the Craftsman and farm style houses and wish I had one, with gleaming wood floors, built-in cabinets, and warm fuzzy feelings all around. I definitely like my current house a lot, don’t get me wrong. Maybe it’s just the nostalgia or homesickness talking; give me one winter up north and I would maybe change my thoughts quickly! And, to0,  I suppose after several days of 24/7 sibling time, I’ll be ready to get back to my own place.

It’s been interesting to drive through places Kevin and I have been. I caught myself talking to him in the car, saying things like, “Remember when we went there and had those Maid-Rites that you bragged about and I didn’t like?” Or, “Remember when we were almost in that tornado and I was freaking out? This rain reminds me of that.”  I am sure when I eat some good walleye I’ll tell  him about that, too;  it was one of our favorite meals.

We used to do a lot of road tripping – to Saskatoon, Canada; to Maine for lobster and to see the fall colors; to Arkansas to ride motorcycles; to Florida to see family; and countless trips to Minnesota and Iowa from South Dakota. I have also driven solo to New Mexico and Colorado a few times, plus the moving trip to Virginia. It never gets old to see the country – and off of the Interstates.  I’m happy that my GyPSy gives me an “alternate route” option so I can slow the pace down some.

I can remember and say those things without crying now.  I am healing.

PS-here’s a shot of Ida, the ice cream clerk in a small town I stopped at in Indiana. She was so Midwestern Nice: helpful, offering different cone and cup styles, and checking to see which scoop I wanted on the bottom: the dark cherry or the vanilla.  She acted like I had known her forever. Ida