Category Archives: Traditions

Yes? No? Maybe?!!

14 Thursday Dec 2017

Posted by in Dreaming, Grief, Sabbatical, Traditions, Transformation

≈ 1 Comment

It MUST be true, since it is my own experience that not every “yes” is a good answer, and not every “no” is a bad answer. Tyes_no_maybe_white_dice_1600_clr_2630his  post is about the past month, during which I found myself distracted by opportunities, reminded by anniversaries, and presented with new partners. In the end, doors and windows keep opening  while I’ve been busy closing others.

When I left my job two years ago, it was my intent to take one year off of work to figure out what the rest of my life was going to be about. I didn’t know if it would really take a year, but that is what I thought I could afford..in terms of money but also in terms of social acceptability and self image. Ha! It actually took me two years but the doubts are now just fleeting thoughts. I’m ready to step off of the edge of this cliff and make some changes.

The month of November was the watershed. I had been wishy-washy about so many things over the past two years, trying to be open to new ideas, giving lip service to resistance about staying in my same old lane, yet keeping that safety net in place to the point it became my default Easy button. I dipped my toes in the water all summer long about going in a new direction, and now I’m jumping all in.  The “funny” thing is that my decision is finally the culmination of what I even said I would do two years ago but apparently was not committed to, writing a book about my grief experience.  I say “funny” because I have not felt much like laughing; in fact, have done a lot of crying and whining and wallowing and avoiding. This blog was my way of testing the idea.

So why now? Well, November is, first of all, the anniversary of when Kevin died. It’s also when his birthday was. His death created  an opening for me to once and for all give up the obligatory life I had been living (by choice, I admit freely), and live my bliss, so to speak. But I had no idea what that was. Or rather, I ignored the idea that I could really do what I had long fantasized about (at least subconsciously). That’s not the same to me as what I’m passionate about. I kind of hate that concept – find what you’re passionate about and do it! I was deceived into thinking it had to be ONE BIG THING that I was so ga-ga over that it was indisputable and very obvious what it was. But I couldn’t see the forest for the trees.

Also, November brought me another crushing blow when my daughter was unable to carry out a pregnancy. It maybe sounds shameful because I have other grandchildren, but for some reason, this one grabbed hold of my heart in a way the others didn’t. I was considering – seriously considering – packing up and moving to the other coast to become the grandma I wasn’t yet. This loss also reinforced for me  (how many times do I need to be hit upside the head????) how fragile life is, what a short time we have on this Earth, and how imperative it is to do NOW whatever it is I can’t figure out I’m supposed to do. This was the first week of November.

Kevin died on November 23, but it was the Sunday before Thanksgiving. This year Sunday was the 19th, so I managed to now activate my sadness genes for an extra 4 days, and then keep the pity party going through his birthday on the 30th. By then Mercury went retrograde, making my life  shmush tightly until I burst out in anger, asking for some help to get clarity once and for all. Finally, I forced up some answers.

A woman I met more than year ago but whom I hadn’t followed through with on a book plan was open to meeting with me again. After a couple of meetings, I felt that it was time I took a risk and put myself out there for something different than the standard fare that is me. And she said yes! We are going to partner up on a project.

By now, you’re probably wondering what in the world I’m talking about? It’s books. Not just my book, although that is on the horizon. It’s how books get made, the road from writer to published author. I used to consider that among the things I kept with me from move to move to move were books on leadership and public speaking, so that must be my thing. What I failed to see is that I keep books, not just the leadership and speaking  kinds but all kinds of books: different genres, buying them here and there, giving them away as gifts, using my library card regularly.  I love to read. I love books. If I have a collection of anything, it’s books. Yes, I have a kindle, but I love the paper, the touch, the notes I make in the margins. All things books. I even know people who have written books. AND I had a conversation with another friend a while back about her idea to set up a publishing business with her sister.  Which is to say that all the dots have been floating around but I couldn’t connect them; until now.

I actually started writing my first book so long ago I can’t remember when, except that it was during the First Husband phase, which means probably 30-40 years ago. I only did two chapters but I still have it  tucked away. Written longhand on a legal pad of yellow paper. I have since had four articles printed in trade journals, the first back in 1988 or 1989, the most recent one this past summer. I’ve even been paid for some writing. So I’m already a writer aside from this blog, and legitimately published. But I want to know more. I want the peek behind the curtain. I want to explore the world of writing and publishing.

Today I was asked about what it is I do. Without forethought, I responded “I help people help themselves with their writing and public speaking.” And I finally felt like I knew who I was. It’s been a long time coming, this decision – or is it just an acknowledgement? I know now that this version of me has been here all along, just buried so far down under the roles of daughter, and mama, and wife..sister..friend..employee..

And wouldn’t you know it? I have been sitting on a chance to do more court work. A proposal is  due tomorrow if I want to bid on the work, but I just can’t get excited about it. The money would be okay but it’s not all that great, and there are a few other detracting elements, like having to travel regularly, getting a supplemental business license, and giving up my rights to the final work product.  It’s an opportunity I would have jumped on in the past, but now I realize that while it’s something I could do, it’s not something I want to do. I’ve just learned this, too: Every “yes” is a “no” to something else. (Kevin Kruse, www.15TimeSecrets.com.)  I’m saying no to that proposal.

So November came and went, bringing with it old reminders and new lessons. Mercury went retrograde and brought with it some shade. Distractions tested my resolve, but opportunities helped me get clear on what I DO want, not just what I don’t want. It’s taken me two years of pushing, but I finally figured that out. And the time it has taken to do all this figuring was the gift from the grief I endured so I could learn to let go of the past, craft a new normal, and open myself to receiving the next part of my amazing life.

I’ll end with photos of two  vision boards I made for myself nearly a year ago, with the goal of manifesting my future – the one I couldn’t see, that I struggled to find. I couldn’t even interpret these then, but I can see now how they were showing me a way. I made 7 boards in about a one-week span, and all I was looking to include were things that resonated with me, even if they didn’t quite make sense. It’s  now crystal clear. visionboard2visionboard

 

 

 

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Opening myself up further

31 Tuesday Oct 2017

Posted by in Gratitude, Traditions, Transformation

≈ 2 Comments

I sometimes find it incredibly hard/difficult/challenging to acknowledge that I am enough. Just me. All by myself. I am enough. I am smart enough, kind enough, successful enough, generous enough, pretty enough, rich enough.   I have enough – money, time, education, resources, friendships, opportunities, things, ideas, food, work, love.  I do enough: volunteering, reading, resting, appreciating, cooking, talking, sharing, listening, thinking, cleaning, shopping, crying, laughing, learning.  So why do I keep trying so damn much to prove this to – of all people – myself??? It’s time to give myself a break; even I know that. So….

This past August I welcomed into my home a young Chinese woman who is here to work on her doctoral program at the local college.

Yawei halloween

Haloween decorating

Yawei is of the generation in China in which couples were only permitted to have one child, meaning she has lead the life of an only and somewhat spoiled girl in her small family.  She had never been to the United States before she came for school a few months ago. I have occasionally thought I was brave, but this woman is something else. Already I have learned much from her that I almost feel bad accepting the rent money!

Having her here has stopped me in my tracks to think about what I take for granted every day. I try to express gratitude daily, ever since I read somewhere this question: What if you woke up tomorrow and all you had was what you gave thanks for yesterday?  So anyway, I even had a gratitude challenge of sorts going on with my daughter for the past few months. Every day, we text each other 3 things we are grateful for. I try to stay away from just the material things, which  isn’t always easy.  Sometimes we mix it up and come  up with one thing we did well that day. That’s one way to remind ourselves that we are enough.  It’s similar to something else I read about recently called “praise work.” It has to do with when we seek approval outside ourselves, from others, which can border on neediness or co-dependency in the extreme.  If you Google “Praise work” it’s likely you’ll get results about praising others (especially employees), so why I haven’t heard of this or thought of it like this is just one more thing I am behind the times on, apparently.

Anyway, I am constantly reminded of how many things are great about my life, my house, my friends, my dogs, my community, my family, my country.  Yawei is like a child in some ways, full of  questions and unfiltered comments.  She is an industrious woman. She cooks all of her meals and takes them with her to school, meaning sometimes it’s late at night or early in the morning when she is clanging pots or the microwave is beeping. She is wide open to trying vegetables she has not seen before and can’t pronounce the names of.  Yawei cookingShe has been to every grocery store around to check out what each has to offer. She goes to the Outlet Mall several times a week. And she is diligent about her classes and homework, spending longs days at the college and signing up for tutors and taking recommended (but not required) English classes.

And she is learning about living with me, too. I recently had the opportunity to show her how I want the stove cleaned when she is done. Have you ever thought of how you explain something that seems so routine to you? Explaining why a shower needs to be cleaned when she says she  only uses clean water to wash with, or that scented aerosol spray doesn’t sanitize the toilet bowl, or that rugs can be “cleaned” by  shaking them out  or washing them. These  are just some of the things I have talked to her about.  Showing her what she does that is “teasing” to the dogs is another example of something I struggled with at first. Luckily, I didn’t have to teach her to drive but I have had to ask her to move her car that is parked too far into the road or in the middle of the driveway.

I am still at the laughing stage, as in “really?!??”  Sometimes it feels like I’m playing Scrabble and can’t come up with the right word because a letter is missing. I know she has good intentions and simply has not had to do these things before now. I love how open she is to learning, though, and it reminds me that I don’t know everything either. I imagine I would be in the same position if I were going to school in China and living with someone whose habits I did not understand.

About the time I wonder if I’m being played by her, I will hear her shout from upstairs, thanking me because the house looks so new and clean, and exclaiming how lucky she is to live here, and that she loves me…. I stop right in my thought and give thanks for her innocence and this chance for a do-over of sorts. A chance for me to let go of feelings of inadequacy, or of loneliness, or being taken advantage of. I am reminded that I have been given a place of honor to teach her what life is like in the USA that is not what you see on F-R-I-E-N-D-S on tv (which is where she learned her American “slanguage”). Whatever she tells her friends back in China will largely depend on what I have represented to her.

She has taught me to use chopsticks (I need more lessons), and to eat more vegetables, and to limit my sugar intake. She is a lesson in counting my blessings. She is an example of how joyful life is, and it’s not just limited to youth. She is curious, quirky, and competent at 27, a time when I was already a mother of 3 and acting all responsible all the time. It’s pretty cool that she is here to help me remember to be curious, quirky and competent today as well. We have a lot in common being two women on our own. Her life has changed dramatically in the past few months, as has mine in the past couple of years, and I daresay she is ahead of me in a few ways in accepting the changes and courting a positive future. poster (1)

It’s is freeing to open myself up as much as I have opened my home up, to let the love in, to share my day, to give of my blessings. I am so grateful for this opportunity, this detour from the plateau I had found myself on.  I have this sign on my desk, and it’s so spot on!

So, you’re single again??

19 Tuesday Sep 2017

Posted by in Grief, Traditions, Transformation

≈ 2 Comments

No, as a matter of fact, I am not. I probably shouldn’t be offended, but I am, a little.  To most people there are two statuses: single or married. Divorced and widowed each connote the lack of a spouse, but that doesn’t have to mean one is single. In fact, when I was divorced, I had three children at home, ages 7-15, and the youngest was still at home (age 17) when I remarried. Sure, I dated in those 10 years, but I was only unmarried, not single. No one with children at home is single, IMHO. I was most definitely in a relationship with them, and if you don’t know, raising teenagers is a time consuming and highly prioritized activity, not to mention financially challenging. I did it willingly then, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat, but really? No, I was most definitely NOT single.

My actual singlehood up until now was short-lived and lacking in experience. I graduated high school at the end of May of 1976, and was off to US Army Basic Training in early August that same year. Uncle Sam took over where my parents left off. But even if you consider that I was unattached and otherwise available for a romantic relationship, by February of 1977 I was pregnant, and in April I was married.

So marriage #1, three babies, divorce, parenting, and then remarriage in 2002 until his death in 2014. It’s only the past almost-3 years I would consider myself single again, although I still have those 3 kids and a handful of grandchildren. And the dogs. It’s been 41 years since I was so footloose and fancy-free.

But an interesting lunch conversation today with someone who I had not met before had me even rethinking that. She asked me about my life these days, and there was I was again, tearing up over my salad. Two years and 10 months, and I’m still prone to crying. Here’s the thing she said, though, that made so much sense to me. She said that I was still in a relationship with my husband. Which is completely right; I am. I talk to him all the time. I feel his presence every now and then, sometimes stronger than others. I’m mostly okay about this, but I do have times when I very much miss him being physically present, and it is those times when I get angry at him.

You might remember when I couldn’t get the BBQ grill hooked up because the valve was overtightened. Well, a similar thing happened last Saturday, and I’m still feeling these feelings. I decided rather spontaneously (yay, Me!) to go camping. I made a reservation, started packing, made arrangements for mail pickup, watered the house plants, and headed off to the hitch up the camper.  But no-can-do. No power on the tongue jack to raise the camper to set it on the ball hitch. I assumed it was a battery issue, even though I had connected the electrical cord to the car. I left the car run for about 15 minutes, thinking I would at least get a flicker of juice. Nada. So plan A didn’t work; I was on to Plan B: You Tube it. I learned where the manual override was, and I tried that. Except I didn’t have the physical strength (nor the desire) to do this up, down (to hook it up), then up, down (at the campground), then up, down (hook it up to come home), and up, down to store it again at the RV lot. And I wasn’t even sure it was the battery that was the problem.

Plan C was to catch one of my neighbors (the male kind) to verify it was a battery issue and help me figure out if I should replace the battery. Neither one I would be comfortable asking were home. So Plan D was a call to a local friend to see if I could borrow her husband, but I got voicemail. On to Plan E, call my brother and cry. Usually when we talk and I have a problem, I tell him he is not supposed to fix my problem; he is supposed to agree with and commiserate with me. This time in between tears, I asked for advice. But as we got started talking, friend with husband called back, so I hung up on my brother and called the husband, who willingly agreed to come over. Then I called back my brother to tell him I thought I had a work-around for now. He gave me a few options to consider, including going to his shed to get another battery. The problem with that is he lives about 1200 miles away, give or take a few hundred miles.

Tom came over, he zippity-do-dah twirled the manual override thingy, and I was hooked up in a few minutes. By which time the damn electric tongue jack was powered up..enough!  He agreed it was probably battery issue, and since I have a battery charger, suggested I bring it along on my trip and hook up the battery before I prepare to leave again to go home. 

Once he left, I cried again, mad that I couldn’t do it myself, and therefore must be weak and inadequate and incompetent, and mad that Kevin wasn’t here to take care of this. If he was here, the battery probably would have been already in the garage being trickle-charged until needed anyway, thus avoiding this kind of problem in the first place.

So yes, when I was describing this scenario to Marilen today, and she said I was still in a relationship with Kevin, she was absolutely right. Do you ever feel that way? I guess that’s why “breaking up is hard to do.” At least then the person is probably still around somewhere so you can choose to call him or not when the car dies and you need it pushed off the street or have a flat tire (yes, been there, done that with ex-husband; now I am a AAA member).

The reality is that I may have been standing alone in the RV lot for a while, fuming while watching the guy on You Tube show me where the manual override was), but I did have neighbors I was willing to ask if they had been home, I have a friend whose husband was willing to help, I have a brother who was only a phone call away, and I have a friend who met me at the campground to set up the camper in case the jack (and/or battery) failed again. We are only as alone as we want to be, and only as unmarried as we feel. I may have wanted someone else to be all those people at once, but he’s not of the physical world any longer. And I suppose I could have asked him to use his energy to power that battery for me so I could just hit the retract/extract switch on the jack, but I didn’t think of that. That he maybe could have done. Even if I did not know anyone else to ask, there are people I could have asked that I just didn’t know yet.

Bottom line, I’m Solowingnow….solo, widowed, single, all mixed up, for now. I’m actually okay with that status; I wish it was an official option on government forms. And when it stops raining, I’m going to disconnect the battery and put it on the charger for a while….

Spitting Mad

10 Saturday Jun 2017

Posted by in Grief, Traditions

≈ 1 Comment

Do you have times when you are just SO MAD that you want to spit tacks and cry? Maybe even say a few choice bad words? And blame someone who is not present?  I rarely have gotten this mad ever, but right now is one of those times. And it’s stupid really.  It has to do with Kevin, who not only is not here but won’t ever be back, and I can’t have him fix this. What’s “funny” is that when he wanted to fix things for me, I would often refuse that help.

So here’s the deal. We bought this nice bbq grill for camping a few years ago. He used to take care of it, to the point that it was washed down grillafter EVERY use and stored in its box. The other one we had for the house was a smaller WeberQ, just big enough for 1-2 people to use on the back deck.  The home one was connected to a 5# propane tank, and the camping one, which didn’t get used as much, has a tank about half that size. When I had the garage sale a month or ago, I decided to keep the camper grill and get rid of the small one, only because the camper one was almost new and the other one was in fairly crappy condition after nearly 10 years. Kevin used to cook outside a few times a week, but I have not used it in the past 2-1/2 years. (This one he didn’t clean much at all.)grill2

Today was the day I decided to do the switcheroo, because I’m having some friends over for supper later and wanted to grill outside. I have all the pieces and parts. It’s where I want it. I got the hose disconnected from the old grill and planned to hook up the larger propane tank. No can do.  Mr. Manly Who Over-Tightened Everything had that hose thing on so damn tight I could not undo the tank.  Out comes the pliers, then some WD40, now a hammer, even a rubber band for some grip.  Nope. Kicking didn’t help, neither did swearing and grunting and blaming and fuming.

Okay, Plan B.  I decide I will just connect the smaller tank to the newer grill.  Easy enough, although I am not really sure how much propane is in it because it feels rather light. So I lugged both tanks into the house and up the stairs to the bathroom scale.  (Yes, I know I could have brought the scale down but it’s a fancy-schmancy one Mr. Manly had to have and it isn’t so transportable as you might think because of the cords and separate display thing.)  One tank weighs 32# and the other 11#.  For sure the bigger one has propane in it, but not so sure about the smaller one.  So now I’m Googling tare weights.  Still don’t get it completely but my option since I can’t undo the big tank is to hook up the smaller one and see if it works.

Hook up is easy-peasy.  Yay! Turning the Open-Close knob is not.  It is so tight and the space for hands is so small I am afraid I will either break fingernails or gouge my knuckles. We have had this argument several times – ever since Mr. Knows-It-All forgot to turn the tank off one time and emptied a new tank overnight. Since then he turned it off every time, tight. I couldn’t turn it on by myself most of the time, but he was usually there to do it, so I let him.

Until now. Six of one, half dozen of another. Can’t hook up one tank, can’t open the other. I’m sweating like crazy and will have to shower again before they get here. So now I’m on to Plan C for dinner.  Chicken breasts go in freezer, beef in freezer comes out, along with buns. And things go from bad to worse.  The buns appear freezer-burned. I boiled the eggs for the potato salad but I forgot to cook the potatoes. It won’t have time to blend (something he used to tease me about).  The fruit salad hasn’t been made yet. The iced tea I made is weak and tasteless. Dishes need to be loaded in dishwasher. Banging the pan in the kitchen doesn’t make me feel better either.

I have strong neighbors who would likely be happy to come over and help me out if I asked them. But I want him, Mr. I’ll-Cook-Tonight, to be here and do it. I want him to listen to me tell my stories of my recent vacation to the guests. Better yet, I want the stories to be about our vacation instead of my vacation. Or at least so I can spit tacks at him and tell him for the hundredth time to NOT overtighten the damn connections.

And now, it occurs to me as I write this that I’m really mad because he died. Every time I think I’m moving on, I find a stupid reason to hold back.  I think maybe this is a step I have missed in my grieving, this getting mad. You just can’t skip any of the steps, or you keep coming back to this place on the path until you get it all done. Whew! Guess I’ll go make some potato salad quickly and get those dirty dishes out of sight. Tomorrow I will ask for some help with the damn grill(s).

The grief bone is connected to the…

25 Thursday May 2017

Posted by in Dreaming, Grief, Traditions, Transformation

≈ 2 Comments

The more I process my grief, the more I realize that peeling back these layers reveals the usual suspect feelings but also opens the way for other unanticipated issues to come up that can be (have to be?) dealt with. What I have discovered so far about grief is that it has little enough to do with Kevin, except for the obvious loss of his physical presence, and everything to do with who I am and who I choose to be now.

I have recently started back on the path of how I got the way I am, trying to understand myself differently so I can refine or change some things I don’t like about myself. My post from back in January 2016 (Remembering Dad) is one I go back to time after time, thinking about how my parents’ grief over the death of my baby brother affected me then and continuing while I was growing up, and how that is a prime ingredient in the make-up of who I am so far.  And how all that might have influenced how I parented my children, who are now parenting their own children.  This is how cycles get rolling.

So why now? Well, here I am trying to figure out my future, make sense of the options I have. I am conflicted about calling myself an entrepreneur, since I don’t really have a business with products to sell. I am a trainer (underemployed at that) with services to offer.  I haven’t marketed myself much, though, so I feel sort of like a starving artist, living on principle and principal. Even though it’s been a year and a half since I left my last job, I’m still unsettled about what’s next.  And I still cry, but I am making new friends and developing a strong support network. Now I just need to find more meaning and make some money.

An alternative that could solve my financial insecurities showed up in my Inbox recently. I applied for a job back in Minnesota, one I hadn’t made up my mind I really wanted but was interested in enough to apply.  I got a first interview, and I started making up reasons why this was a good idea.  The prime factor was the salary and the stability of a regular paycheck with fringe benefits like health insurance.  A strong but secondary factor was that I would be geographically close to three of my siblings and two of my very best friends.  But my heart just couldn’t get excited about Minnesota winters, nor especially the structure of a Monday-Friday, 8-5, 50 weeks a year job, carrying out someone else’s priorities and directives.  I kept hearing in my head that saying, “If money weren’t the issue, what would you do?”  No clear answers yet, in case you’re wondering.

While I was waiting to hear about a second interview, I decided it was time to put my house in order, so to speak. Not just physically clean and well-maintained, which I would have to do if I were potentially going to list it for sale; more importantly, I wanted to mentally prepare myself for giving up the freedoms I have now. I rationalized like a champ all the positives of a move, and discounted the hassles of moving and starting over again. Suffice it to say that I want my roots to go deeper instead of broader now.  And I wanted peace of mind, whichever way the cookie crumbled.

My friend Rosanne once asked me while I was packing for a move what it was I was running from, and I told her I wasn’t running from but toward, except I didn’t know what toward either.  I still don’t know.  Or rather, I don’t know yet but I’m getting closer. Note to self: what I have been doing all along is making money, not making a life. That’s going to change.

Yeah, so that cookie crumbled, and I didn’t get the job. I didn’t even get the second interview. And I still don’t have peace of mind (although the anxiety of moving has subsided, which must be a good sign).  I’m very okay with this, because I didn’t really want to go (and my Spirit Self didn’t want to go either, I’m sure of it).  But if not this, then what??? This is my time, right? Finally? No kids to worry about, no husband to convince, not even any bills except the mortgage and monthly utilities and other living expenses.  Not the next thing, but the last thing, a legacy act.

I have often said to myself, I wonder what I’d be capable of if I just applied myself?  I have had significant achievements in my life, which I am proud of, but if I really tried, imagine that!  So I hired a coach/business start-up strategist to help me.  The first thing she had me do was fill out a questionnaire about my job history.  Which got me to thinking about how many times I have moved, how many jobs I have held, how many times I had that fresh start. Those Millenial kids have got nothing on me! I have held 12 positions in the past 40 years, always chasing more money, but eventually climbing a career ladder.  I have had 13 addresses in six cities in four states (not counting the Army).  Looking at that list laid out in black and white was an eye-opener. Having to articulate what my ideal day would look like, and define what success looked like so I’d recognize it when I hit that mark…those were tougher tasks. Trying to align all these bits and pieces into a vision and voice is going to be some work.

I know I would get along okay if I didn’t do all this thinking and analyzing and conjuring and … whatever else I am doing.  I know I would be just fine if I put away the questions and reverted to “normal,” albeit a new normal, and society would readily accept that without question. People I know would probably be relieved I have finally settled down.   I think I have done a swell job with processing the early stages of grief – the loss and doubt, the discomfort and discovery, even the understanding. But there’s more for me.  I’m seeking full integration in this new life, fuller satisfaction, and confidence in the new me.

I have started something that won’t let go of me now. In this past month’s time, I’ve turned inside out. Move over, Alice, I have to go down this rabbit hole and see what there is to see. I just know that the door marked Grief is not the only one that has opened. I’m curious about what labyrinth I will find myself walking on this journey.

 

 

All because of a gun cabinet

13 Thursday Apr 2017

Posted by in Dreaming, Gratitude, Grief, Traditions, Transformation

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Recently my friend Rosanne asked me if I had done anything with the gun cabinet I inherited when Kevin died. I had once said I was going to paint it and repurpose it.  The bottom door grabs are deer heads and it also has shotgun shell decorative touches; plenty of Kevin memories will stay attached to this piece. gun cabinetI thought I might be able to add some glass shelves and use it for books or cds or dvds … or something, maybe just use it as a curio cabinet. I might even be able to put a mirror backing.  Paint it up shabby-chic like and I would have an unusual piece that might become the envy of my friends.  Anyway, the answer is no, not yet. It’s just sitting in my hallway. At least I have moved it out of the closet where it has been hiding from chalk paint and all its glory for the past two years.

That conversation reminded me of one we had had several years ago. Rosanne and I were shopping in a consignment store (Phyllis might have been there, too, that day in Alex, remember?), and I found something I liked. She asked why I didn’t buy it, and I remember telling her that it just wouldn’t go in our house. I also said that if I lived by myself, I would have a totally different style, more eclectic, less matchy-watchy, with all kinds of comfy shabby-chic things; one-of-a-kind pieces that would have my personal touches all over them. I remember that conversation so clearly!

It’s been almost 2-1/2 years now that I’ve been living by myself, and I haven’t done much about that hidden desire except to paint walls and rearrange my living room furniture.  I did paint this “classic” style Hall tablehall table I’ve had for about 20 years and that used to be dark cherry colored. Phyllis also helped me paint a window my sister gave me, so I must have a little flair hiding in me somewhere, right?

Now, I have decided, is the time.  I’m ready.  And Fortune is smiling upon me.  Another friend, Betty, made a bit of an offhand comment one night at Bunco at my house about my kitchen table, saying if I ever wanted tableto sell it, to let her know.  I had wanted a bistro-style tall table and counter stools in my kitchen when we moved in, but Kevin wasn’t a fan, so this was our compromise. It’s a lovely look, sturdy for him, with enough feminine curves to please my eye. So I called Betty last week and said I did want to sell it. Pictures and measurements were sent, but, she told me, she wanted it for her daughter and it was too large for the small alcove she has. Another friend, Armen, overheard our conversation and immediately said, “I’ll take it. I’ll bring you a check tomorrow.” She said she had wanted to say something the night Betty expressed interest but was too late.  So it looks like I can start shopping!

Truth be told, I already found some stools. It was when I saw them that the wheels started turning and I made up my mind. counter stoolOur neighborhood ladies were having lunch together last week near a consignment shop. I got there early so I could have a peek – this was before I even called Betty.   They aren’t exactly what I thought I would want, but with a little paint, they could be fun. And the price is right.  I wonder if a cross-style of Mary Engelbreit and Kelly Rae Roberts would work? Definitely some kind of splash needed. Would depend on the table style I find, and if these stools are still available.

Then I had another idea. What if I only got the stools, waited on the table (I have a dining room with a table already), and either moved the hall table here nookand made a baby solarium or put one of my rocking chairs here and made a peaceful place to sit and meditate or read? I have a great outdoor bench that could work here, bench.jpgtoo, if I put a little elbow grease into sanding the rough and rusted edges.  And then I could just put an outdoor table on the deck – which I don’t have right now. Still get to shop!! Oh, the options! :o)

I really can do anything I want now. It’s totally up to me. The fact that that makes me happy instead of sad is a sign of my progress in healing from the grief.

I don’t know how you’d define my style exactly. I just know that when I see something I like, I know it.  I’m going to find out what else I like!

Oh, and about that light fixture hanging over the table. I think a chandelier might be better…and wouldn’t a chandelier over the Jacuzzi tub in the master bath be fun, too? Does anyone know a good local electrician?

 

 

 

Living with Questions

09 Thursday Mar 2017

Posted by in Gratitude, Traditions, Transformation

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There is something about someone dying that makes you question death, and now I know there is something about living that makes you question life, too.  Lately, I’ve been in the mode of exploring both, through questions, more questions, better questions, trying to not have to force answers. It’s a challenge sometimes for me to be patient, but today was one of those days it was easy.

I’ve accepted the New Age philosophy that if something keeps showing up in your life, you should pay attention. Over the past 40 years in total, but really over the past 20 years or so, and specifically over the past couple of years, I’ve been introduced to people, books, ideas, and beliefs that I’ve now accepted are meant to be for me. And that has to do with my worldview or belief system about what works and what doesn’t work for me, what is effective or ineffective.  When some words, ideas, people just won’t go away, it’s time to engage instead of ignore. Let it not be said I couldn’t learn a new trick, even if it took me a while.

So I’m working hard, consciously, deliberately, to move away from a mental model that uses judgment, conclusion, right and wrong, and good and bad, as the way to view what goes on around and within me. When what used to work doesn’t work any longer, I am pretty quick to make a change. When something comes along that is just different, outside the scope of my experience, interesting, and even exotic in some ways, where I used to hesitate I’m happy to report that I have opened up to further exploration. That’s a hard row to hoe sometimes. I’ve got a lifetime of conditioning to overcome.

But today I hosted a group of women friends to discuss and explore energetic wellness and an active consciousness of possibility for improved  health and energy.  I wish I had pictures to prove it, because in this day and age, it seems that those are requirements, but trust me – it DID happen!  I coordinated having two new friends come to demonstrate some complements of energy healing I’ve barely been acquainted with. I really liked how Mary, one of the women, gently explained that she wasn’t here to heal any of us; that we are our own healers, and she was here to help us figure out better ways to do that. I want more of that! Whether it is through releasing blocked energy, or clearing emotional trauma through the use of oils and crystals infused with frequencies, or anything else, one of the messages for me today was that times have indeed changed, and so have I, or at least I’m ready for change.

Equal to that, finding a supportive environment in which to do that is a blessing I am well aware of. I remember when my uncle George used to go to a local chiropractor, way back in the day, and there were whispers that he was going to a “quack.” But it worked for him and he kept going, and they found it hard to diss the results. There are still miles of imagination between other forms of alternative healing and the traditional Western forms of medicine, at least in my family history, but that, too, is changing. So for me to find a group of women I respect that were open to this gathering was way cool for me. Now when I have questions, or thoughts and ideas, I don’t have to go it alone, feeling strange about it, hiding it.  I have peeps!

Kevin was a traditionalist and conservative about quite a few things, and health was one of those matter-of-fact issues for him.  Take 2 aspirin and call me in the morning! But one of the ways he showed his love for me was to listen to me when I had “far out” ideas, or read a book I thought he should read so we could talk about it, or go see a movie that pushed the edges of the envelope. The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran is my all-time favorite book, and I remember when he tried to read it.   He didn’t “get it,” but still he honored me and wanted to learn what was so special about it for me. When we visited Washington DC a few years later, although he never did read the entire book, he discovered there was a Kahlil Gibran meditation garden not far from our hotel, and he encouraged me to go visit it (no, he didn’t go with me). That’s the kind of guy he was, letting me be me and do my thing.  We were pretty good at agreeing to disagree, but always with high regard and care. (You should have seen his face when I put Vic’s Vapor Rub on his toenails to help with the fungus, or when I got him to drink Throat Coat tea one time (and one time only) !!!)

I miss being able to talk to him about this new energy wellness thing I’m into. I’m learning, though, that I can still share it if I’m willing to accept that I can’t see him; that’s not my go-to way, though. The new way, the question is: What if he is here, and I just don’t see him? Am I willing to accept that I’m not alone, that he’s near still? I do have to be very conscious about this right now; can’t wait until it’s second nature.  Anyway, he would have been skeptical, I’m sure, but he would have listened and informed himself at least enough to have a reasonable conversation with me about it.  The poetic justice in this is that it was his dying that was the catalyst to a different way of thinking for me.  Being here on this earth without him physically has given me the time and the space and the urge to do this kind of exploring. Luckily, thankfully, I have found support with new friends. I don’t miss him less, but I understand better this circle of life somehow because of this twisted (in a good way) connectedness. It feels right, and I know he would totally accept that.

So tonight I’m wearing a new frequency-infused pendant, and I even got one for Buddy because of his ailments and other aging issues. Three of my friends got their “bars” run and two were enthusiastic about it; the third one is still deciding.  I’m excited about thinking in terms of questions instead of conclusions.  I’m thrilled to feel accepted by my friends who are exploring this with me. And the next time I talk to Kevin, I’m going to tell him so, although I’m pretty sure he already knows how I feel. He probably just loves that he is the one with the answers now. And I’m okay with that. He earned that. I’m just glad he’s on my side still.

Being a Possibilitarian

22 Wednesday Feb 2017

Posted by in Traditions, Transformation

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Lately I’ve been working on a new philosophical mindset, or maybe it’s more accurate to say exploring an old interest in a philosophy of being a possibilitarian. Think of it as the next step up from being a positive thinker.   I went to see a woman in Richmond a few weeks ago, and I had “my bars run” which is a form of energy alignment by releasing negativity and other obstacles in our way, and opening ourselves up to more possibilities in our lives. Last Sunday I invested 8 hours and a few dollars and was even certified to be a practitioner in this. It’s called Access Consciousness. Here are a few shots from class.

One of the lessons I’ve learning is to reframe my daily affirmations to be more “possibility oriented.”  One of my questions to myself is: How does it get any better than this?  As in, what else is possible? The theory is that the Universe will show you how it gets better when I don’t try to restrict the outcome to what I think it should be. It has been a long and winding road since my days 20 years ago of reading The Celestine Prophecy, Something More Simple Abundance, Conversations with God, I’m Spiritual Dammit, and Outrageous Openness.  Now I have a deliberate way to explore this even more.

While I have thought of myself as a teacher for a long time, I have never identified myself a healer (except in a Mom-first-aid-and-related-parenting mode), or more particularly, a healer in Energy Work. I have benefited greatly from having Reiki, Healing Hands, deep tissue massage, salt spa, and other modality treatments, so I’m clearly on the side of believing in its power. I have also quietly kept pursing my own form of “law of attraction” and “new thought” and similar positive-oriented philosophies. It happens that they align quite nicely with the work I have done more formally in leadership development.

So last Thursday night,, I was working on a presentation I was booked to deliver last Saturday. It was okay but it isn’t exactly as good as I wanted it to be. I asked the Universe how it could be even better, which is one of the pieces of this new Access Consciousness mindset.  Then I took a break and started looking for the Introduction I had prepared early on (for the introducer to use on Saturday ).  As I was looking through my Word files, I found that I had already written a draft of the speech a few weeks earlier from when I had gotten confirmation of the gig, and it was BETTER than the one I had been working on the whole week!  The pieces of the puzzle came together effortlessly. I had forgotten that I had already sketched it out. But once I asked a higher power to help me do this BETTER, there it was! I laughed and laughed. It felt good, I relaxed, and eventually, the program went off quite nicely on Saturday.

All of this is to say that since Solowingnow, I have given myself permission to be and do and have things I might not have pursued while I was married. Kevin certainly would have supported it, but the point is I would have held myself back. Now I think this is all part of the bigger plan, that I am here where there is plenty of support and teaching available to me, in a place that has no preconceived ideas about who I am or what I’m supposed to do or be. I have a freedom here I don’t have when I’m a mom, grandma, sister, daughter, administrator, boss, even friend with a 20 year history. Here and now, I can explore this other possible me.

It’s kind of cool to be me right now.

Oh, and I need to practice this on other people. I am assured I can’t do it wrong (breathe sigh of relief here).  If you want to give it a try, give me a call or drop me a line. I need to do it in person, and you have  nothing to lose but some time (30-45 minutes). When I had it done the first time, it was if I had had a luxurious massage although by body had only been touched in minimal ways (head almostly exclusively). Try it, you’ll like it!!

An Open Letter to my Children on Inauguration

16 Monday Jan 2017

Posted by in Dreaming, Gratitude, Traditions, Transformation, Uncategorized

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Dear Children, One of the posts I saw on Facebook this morning was from a friend who shared a “good read for those who are afraid, upset and disquieted by what will take place this coming Friday…”  Both she and I are in a Speaker’s Academy, and this Friday is when we have our final “showcase” speech and graduation.  She actually was going to withdraw a week ago, feeling unprepared for the event, but she has reconsidered.  Imagine my amusement when I opened the article and discovered it was about Donald Trump’s inauguration set for this Friday also! It was 10 Acts of Resistance on Inauguration Day, and one of them struck a chord with me.

I am writing this letter in response to idea #7, Reassure Your Children, by nurturing their hope.  I urge you to remember that as dramatic as things seem right now, as impossible as the future seems, as opposite the ideals are of the incoming Administration from what you think you would like to see, please know that it will be okay. You have to trust me on this. I don’t mean things are going to be easy, or feel good, or that all the streets will turn to gold and love and peace will overflow.  But I have walked through some parts of hell already in my life, and I do know there is always something else ahead.

You may not think of it this way, but here are a few things that have happened in my time…things I remember for myself.

Collage

  • JFK was assassinated. I was in kindergarten, and I remember the announcement, the crying, being sent home. I didn’t know what it was about, but I knew it was BIG.  I also remember MLK being shot when I 9 years old, and Grandpa’s reaction (one I’m not proud of, but then, it was him, not me), and RFK too.
  • Viet Nam.  Grandpa’s cousin, Bernie, served, so it always seemed personal, although I didn’t really understand it. I was still young.
  • Nixon and Watergate.  I was 16, and we were all in the car driving to Utah for vacation when Nixon resigned. I heard it on the radio, and Grandpa was so angry about it. I remember a fleeting thought of how bad it was going to get if no one was in charge, and wondering if it could be worse than having a crook in charge.
  • Reagan’s victory. I remember standing in a line at the school polling place when it was announced he had won, and we hadn’t even voted yet. It wasn’t long after that I paid 10% interest on a car we bought, and 16% mortgage interest on our home in Cuyamunge. I was making $1850/month working for the state. We survived that, and look at us now.
  • Clarence Thomas hearings, and the Bill Clinton/Monica Lewinsky scandal. I know where I was, I remember watching the broadcasts.  Same with Oliver North. President Bush and the Gulf War, which my cousin Rick served in, and the next President Bush…’nuff said.
  • 9-11 I was at work, and got a call from Auntie Di asking me if Renae was okay. Renae was, in fact, visiting in my home in Brookings (divine intervention?). I rushed home so we could watch CNN together. What was a last-minute weekend trip became a week, and nothing has really been the same since then.
  • Yada-yada-yada.  Suffice it to say, it’s always something. And yet, here we are.

In the midst of the political angst over the past 40 or 50 years, I also had some personal shit in my life that helped make the politics less important.

  • I buried both my parents and a husband. I also witnessed several good relatives and some friends being laid to rest.
  • I divorced, and moved 6 times after that, trying to provide for my family while completing my college degree, raising teenagers and helping them into college.
  • Tino broke his knee, Renae had endometriosis, Gabe broke his wrist, Brandy rolled a car, Ethan shot out a window in Gabe’s truck, Heather had a baby, Renae got divorced.
  • I loved people who suffered through cancer, had an abortion, were foreclosed on their home, lost a job, went to jail, had surgeries, got divorced, fought with children, were abused, committed suicide, were hospitalized, lost their reputation, buried their children or spouses, and otherwise started over again.

On the other hand, while all this (and more) was going on in my world and other people’s lives, good things happened, and are still happening.

  • I brought up amazing children, who themselves have amazing children.  As my hero Kahlil Gibran reminds us, life goes forward, not backward.  (Donald Trump is already 70; you and your children are the future.) I was able to give each of you an education, a respect for nature, and a strong familial relationship. You are good, kind, hard-working, responsible, nurturing, and loving people. That’s what the world needs. Pass that on to your children, and to your friends and their children. Life is an evolution, not an event. Keep trying to make it better.
  • All my children found and give mature love as adults, and they have made meaningful lives with wonderful partners. They also show love to their families, their friends, their neighbors. I am so proud of each of you.
  • Despite whoever was in the Oval Office, I was able to mend a broken heart, more than once. I know what’s really important to me, and I don’t get so caught in the drama of the news cycle.  It’s good to know that this is possible. Life goes on, and it is worth the effort to see what’s next, to know new people, to try new things, to go new places. There is life after life as you knew it, and there will be life after Donald Trump goes home again.
  • Despite whatever was going on in city hall, or the state capitol, or the Capitol Beltway, I always believed that what I did mattered. Not because I had a select or elite position, but because I know that the everyday little things add up.  All politics are local, and I focused on what I could manage in my own way. Starting at home, always.
  • I still have access to new ideas, books, movies, music, and art. I can avoid the “real” world and all its drama by the diet I feed my mind. I choose to read positive stories with happy endings, I listen to uplifting music, I surround myself with the stuff that makes me feel good. I know people who have lost all that and had to flee their homes in a communist country, and they still survive; they live better now. Be a role model to your children, give them hope.
  • I still had time to experience life, absent the stream of bad news trying to assault me. The Little League games, the indoor soccer matches, the hockey games I still don’t understand, the basketball trips, the Disneyland days, that bus trip to Duluth, the chanting of a choir, the sun in Jamaica, the wine in Italy, country music line-dancing, the cross-country road trips, camping, geo-caching for treasures, hugs and smiles from granddarlings, the singing birds in my own backyard, the antics of puppies and old dogs, good coffee. The mental breaks are vital to my health. I want to see happiness in pictures and videos, share in the moments you think are important, stay in touch with my friends. There is little room for political drama, except West Wing on Netflix!

I don’t think I am abdicating any personal responsibility by not publicly voicing my displeasure at the state of the world and contributing to that negative noise. I have chosen another way, and I do take full responsibility for my personal condition.  Every week at Toastmasters I join like-minded people who are interested in making the world a better place by improving their communication and leadership sTMkills. As I see it, the world is desperately in need of these attributes. Last fall I had the incredible opportunity to see 144 counties sharing a weekend in the pursuit of a better world, at a Toastmasters International conference.  Proof that we can live in a different world. That’s how I serve,  what I choose to be a part of.  As John Lennon said, you may say I’m dreamer, but I’m not the only one.

Right now there is uncertainty because everything is changing.  Remember, not all change is bad, and in the final analysis, at least we are in the USA, not some third world country or communist regime. It’s never been a perfect world, and it likely won’t be while we live on this earth. That’s what heaven is for. And there is always hope for a better, different tomorrow, because you are here and I am here. We can make a difference, we can make choices, we can prove the naysayers wrong about how bad it is. And with my rose-colored glasses on, just think what it might be like if Donald actually does some good!

I challenge you to continue to be grateful for what you have, and to not dwell on what you don’t have. I am grateful that you all are in my life. You and your partners, your children, your friends. 20160627_165608Keep on loving your children, encouraging them, playing with them, nurturing their positive spirits.  Someday probably we will look back on this week and all we feared, but for now I will remember that January 20, 2017, is my son’s birthday, and the day I graduate from the National Speaker’s Association Speaker Academy.  I don’t have any inclination to cast a shadow on this day by worrying about other things.

With everlasting love, Mom

 

Going “home” for Christmas

30 Friday Dec 2016

Posted by in Dreaming, Gratitude, Grief, Traditions

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I spent Christmas 2016 in Santa Fe with all three of my adult children and their families, plus some of their extended families (in-laws, cousins), and my brother. I have spent the last three Christmases now with some of my kids, but this was the first time we have all been together in over 2 years, and it’s maybe 10 years since we all celebrated Christmas together.  I am adapting to the holidays without Kevin, but it’s not just about having distractions to keep me from thinking about him.  I found more of me this year, which I suppose is another step along my grief path to the rest of my life .  It was an awesome holiday vacation, and they just keep getting better.

family-2016

I lived in Santa Fe for 17 years as a young woman, wife and mother. We moved there when our daughter was 2 months old, and both of our boys were born there.  I’ve been back a few times since I left over 20 years ago, especially since the youngest son moved back there. When I left, it was a few years after my divorce from my kids’ dad, who still lives there.  I had always struggled to fit in, never quite feeling like I belonged there; not unaccepted but not embraced.  It was always a nice enough place to visit after the divorce, yet I never wanted to move back.  But now I think about it, partly because I have found some peace within myself about that the relationship he and I used to have and the one we have now.  Now I am more sensitive to the shortness of a life span, more aware of what makes me happy, more interested in thinking and being than doing. This trip I even went to see him for a few minutes and wish him and his girlfriend a Happy New Year.  (It wasn’t creepy; she had already given me a Christmas present, and my kids and brother were there also.)  How I feel about him is fodder for another story someday. Suffice it to say that I can now appreciate my own life differently.

Anyway, in these intervening years, I went back to college and completed a both an undergrad and graduate degree. I moved three more times, always for more progressive employment opportunities. I married and buried a second husband. I lost both my parents and a stepmother. I have traveled to nearly all 50 states, and been to Europe, Canada, and Jamaica. I learned how to drive a motorcycle, and I adopted two furry four-legged boys. I have read probably a thousand books. I’m now starting my own business. In other words, I have expanded my world view significantly, reprioritized my life a few times, and changed a lot. I like myself and the life I have created, and I have released old ideas of who I was and what my role was supposed to be. I had more confidence about this visit to Santa Fe than I have ever had.

I

kids-2016

Gabe & Kelsyn, Renae & Andrew, Tino & Jenna Olivia, Ava, Isla, Mayzie, & Nikos

 

always hate to leave my kids and tear up when it’s time to say our goodbyes.  I fantasize about moving to be with them all the time.  I scope out real estate ads and contemplate other job options. I daydream about a Waltons kind of close family (ironically, Waltons Mountain is here in Virginia). I imagine the kids think about it some, too, for me.

 

And then when I get on the plane, I feel myself relax, already anticipating the peace and quiet of my own home, with my own stuff around me, making the mental move back to my regular life. The freedom of not having to be in full-on parental mode and the independence of coming and going as I please without having to be accountable to anyone else.  When I get in the door, I breathe a sigh that comes from deep within and says “you’re home now.”  Is it the lure of Virginia and my house? I don’t think so; it’s my lifestyle. Which is portable. As am I. Portable, I mean. I would bet the kids are also happy to get back to their own lives.

I don’t think I am ready to move, and for sure the idea of packing and doing all it would take to make another cross-country move is daunting. So it’s time for a little transition or compromise of sorts on my part.  One easy thing I can do is to initiate more contact with my kids by phone and email, or preferably by Face-time or Skype. I also can re-evaluate my budget and see about more trips to see them. Although I whined that my flight yesterday left at 6 am, I was home by 2:30 local time, so a bit less than an 8 hour trip door to door. I have driven further than that and not been anywhere! I also introduced a tiny bit more Santa Fe style to the house.

pottery

Acoma on left, Jemez on right

I added a gift piece of Acoma pottery to my little collection that includes Jemez and Santa Clara Pueblo pieces already.  I bought two colorful ceramic light switch covers and installed them.

lightswitch

Lightswitch

And I brought a Native American wool blanket out to my family room so I can enjoy it daily. I can have it all, in a way…it’s not eccentric, it’s just me.

The “reason for the season” reminds us of the goal for peace on earth, which begins with me.  I think I have finally achieved that, or at least I can see it.  I don’t have to GO home again, I take the sense of home with me where I go.  I felt at home there, and I feel that now here.  The best gift I got this Christmas is knowing that.