John & I watched South Pacific - my favorite version, the television movie with Glenn Close.Two scenes leapt out at me as relevant for this moment in time.
First, is a scene where Glenn Close - as Nellie Forbush, the Navy nurse from Little Rock, Arkansas - is tormented by her unthinking, ingrained bigotry. She could accept that the man she loved killed someone, but not that he had two children by a Polynesian woman. She had no explanation for her feelings, just acknowledge them.
In 2014 America, that scene plays out for me in a different light than when I first saw it in 2001. Nellie's anguish over her feelings - which her head knows are unfounded, irrational - reflects so many people I know or have contact with online, especially on Facebook.
Alas, unlike Nellie, they can't admit to it.
With good reason. Intellectually, they know that bigotry is wrong. And, unlike in the Forties & even the Sixties, Polite Society looks upon being openly bigoted as at least unsavory. a social taboo. Which is a problem, because what is hidden, denied, grows stronger. And blacks are just as guilty of entrenched bigotry as whites, a difference being that America's power structure - on every level - favors European Americans.
The other scene that grabbed my attention was Joe Cable singing You've Got to be Carefully Taught. No need to comment more - the words speak for themselves. And, sadly, still rings too true with too many, over 50 years after its first performance.
Friday, October 31, 2014
will it ever change?
Came home from running about on errands to find John digging a hole to lovingly deposit the earthly remains of Alpha - who died last November. Earlier requests to dig the spot went unheeded - it's being dug now because of the threat of possible frost leading into what's expected to be a brute of a winter.
Hooray! The hole is finally started!! And what did he wear digging out the hole? An outfit appropriate for such rough, messy work? Nope. He wore the blue sweat pants & long-sleeved dark blue T that is casual, but nice casual. Good-looking casual. NOT grave-digging sloppy.
When I reacted to his choice of apparel, his immediate response was, "You like the blue turtle neck that I wear out." Yes, for wearing out. Had I not told him - many times - how great he looked in the combination that is now caked with dirt? Yes, but.... Always with the but, always with me being in the wrong, which he cannot see. If you tell someone, "It's not this outfit you think looks so great on me, it's another entirely different one," then you're in essence telling the person he or she is mistaken, that they are wrong.
But John didn't leave it there. What I was thinking of was that he does wear the long-sleeved blue T under the blue turtleneck. UNDER. As in, where it is not seen.
How hard could it have been for him to look down at his clothing, to realize it is totally inappropriate for the job, that now I will have to wash both of them before he can wear them around the house, and just said, "Ooops. Didn't even think about it." But he can't. It's knit deep into his psyche. And it hits me wrong on so many levels.
Will it ever change? Time will tell.
Hooray! The hole is finally started!! And what did he wear digging out the hole? An outfit appropriate for such rough, messy work? Nope. He wore the blue sweat pants & long-sleeved dark blue T that is casual, but nice casual. Good-looking casual. NOT grave-digging sloppy.
When I reacted to his choice of apparel, his immediate response was, "You like the blue turtle neck that I wear out." Yes, for wearing out. Had I not told him - many times - how great he looked in the combination that is now caked with dirt? Yes, but.... Always with the but, always with me being in the wrong, which he cannot see. If you tell someone, "It's not this outfit you think looks so great on me, it's another entirely different one," then you're in essence telling the person he or she is mistaken, that they are wrong.
But John didn't leave it there. What I was thinking of was that he does wear the long-sleeved blue T under the blue turtleneck. UNDER. As in, where it is not seen.
How hard could it have been for him to look down at his clothing, to realize it is totally inappropriate for the job, that now I will have to wash both of them before he can wear them around the house, and just said, "Ooops. Didn't even think about it." But he can't. It's knit deep into his psyche. And it hits me wrong on so many levels.
Will it ever change? Time will tell.
Hardly
On hearing of my predisposition to do the opposite of what calls out for focus & attention, a counseling friend said, "Ah - oppositional defiant disorder."
Not really. Not even close. Not even in the same psychological universe. There is noting defiant about my behavior. But the comment was revealing.
First, how some folks apparently always have their radar scanning behaviors for the best, closest-to-it label. Whether in fashion, products or how we act, I've never been one for labels. They pigeon hole. I want to look more deeply into the workmanship of each particular thing or research the experience of other people who bought & used it.
Knowing myself & my life experience within my family, my response makes sense. And there's not a smidgeon of defiance to my instinct to do the opposite of the apparent best next step. It's how I was raised.
But not opposition - inversion. Similar meaning, but not quite. An important shade of difference.
Second, labels - at least to me - are tied to the past. They're used, I think, to help get a handle on who we are in this moment in relation to how we've been in the past. And I have no doubt that they do a lot of people a lot of good.
Just not me.
How did my life patterns get to such a funky place? A) I do not have a clue. B) I do not care.
All I am interested in is shaking them off, in developing better, more wholesome & wise focus forward traits.
What's the opposite of inversion? According to an online thesaurus, they include strengthen, continue, grow, hold, keep, persist, remain. All good words, all reasonable ways to find wise focus, determine best actions, persist in following through to completion.
Oppositional defiant disorder? Hardly. So, what is it that makes my life such an interesting challenge? Does it matter? Do we ever really know the roots of our traits - good, bad or indifferent? I am no fan of labels. Give me constructive energy & a will to use it well.
Not really. Not even close. Not even in the same psychological universe. There is noting defiant about my behavior. But the comment was revealing.
First, how some folks apparently always have their radar scanning behaviors for the best, closest-to-it label. Whether in fashion, products or how we act, I've never been one for labels. They pigeon hole. I want to look more deeply into the workmanship of each particular thing or research the experience of other people who bought & used it.
Knowing myself & my life experience within my family, my response makes sense. And there's not a smidgeon of defiance to my instinct to do the opposite of the apparent best next step. It's how I was raised.
But not opposition - inversion. Similar meaning, but not quite. An important shade of difference.
Second, labels - at least to me - are tied to the past. They're used, I think, to help get a handle on who we are in this moment in relation to how we've been in the past. And I have no doubt that they do a lot of people a lot of good.
Just not me.
How did my life patterns get to such a funky place? A) I do not have a clue. B) I do not care.
All I am interested in is shaking them off, in developing better, more wholesome & wise focus forward traits.
What's the opposite of inversion? According to an online thesaurus, they include strengthen, continue, grow, hold, keep, persist, remain. All good words, all reasonable ways to find wise focus, determine best actions, persist in following through to completion.
Oppositional defiant disorder? Hardly. So, what is it that makes my life such an interesting challenge? Does it matter? Do we ever really know the roots of our traits - good, bad or indifferent? I am no fan of labels. Give me constructive energy & a will to use it well.
Thursday, October 30, 2014
When will I ever learn?
Yes, it bugs me when John answers the question, "Where is Sophie?" with "YOU said she was behind the couch," when that was 30 minutes ago & five minutes ago HE said she was in the hat box in the dining room. Yes, it rubs me raw when - - hearing him repeatedly & in some exasperation calling Rennie & Max to their dinner yet suspecting he's HOLDING the dishes, waiting for the cats to arrive, rather than realizing they're in the other room BECAUSE the dishes aren't on the floor - - I ask, "Are they (the dishes) on the floor?" & he swiftly bends down to put Max's on the linoleum as he answers, "Yes, they are."
How can there be any constructive discussion with someone who invariably, as in the case of Sophie, pegs responsibility for the response to me, even though I last spotted her 30 minutes ago while he saw her less than ten minutes past, and who waits until after swiftly doing something before answering a question wondering if it was done? It's how he thinks. Right now, with the cats sick & really needing a second pair of sane, responsible, reliable hands to help feed them all, which is not at all easy, it is a particular challenge.
BUT the fact is that I am the one who gets frustrated at the present moment problem, who tags it back to a long history of similar responses (what a waste of time) & gets stressed, which stresses out the sick kitties, who literally high tail it downstairs to the den where they'll hid under the chairs & behind the couches & next to the tall book case, not eating anything, while Rennie & Max & Sky make a beeline for the abandoned cat food dishes.
How can there be any constructive discussion with someone who invariably, as in the case of Sophie, pegs responsibility for the response to me, even though I last spotted her 30 minutes ago while he saw her less than ten minutes past, and who waits until after swiftly doing something before answering a question wondering if it was done? It's how he thinks. Right now, with the cats sick & really needing a second pair of sane, responsible, reliable hands to help feed them all, which is not at all easy, it is a particular challenge.
BUT the fact is that I am the one who gets frustrated at the present moment problem, who tags it back to a long history of similar responses (what a waste of time) & gets stressed, which stresses out the sick kitties, who literally high tail it downstairs to the den where they'll hid under the chairs & behind the couches & next to the tall book case, not eating anything, while Rennie & Max & Sky make a beeline for the abandoned cat food dishes.
a quiet house
It is so strange, living in a silent, still house. Upper respiratory infection has swept through our cattery. No one moves, they all sleep most of the day, curled up. Because a cat's sense of smell stimulates its appetite, some are not eating. There is no sign of Sophie, who hasn't eaten or been spotted since yesterday at breakfast.
I feel responsible. Told the Universe that I want a more welcoming house - one that doesn't reek of cat scents. This was not what I envisioned.
A reason the Universe brought the cats into my life was to spur me into being a better housekeeper. But the blocks were bigger than the incentive. This might have happened anyway, but it feels like I let them all down. I feel like I let myself down. I didn't rise to the occasion.
Will let the tears drip, while using all this as fresh information. Will continue the personal work that's been aided in so many ways by these precious lives, insights that were only possible due to their presence in our life. Let myself feel sadness & hope & gratitude. Let all those emotions have their impact, then move forward, leaving me more in contact, in connection with what truly is.
John found Sophie, in a far far corner. She moved even farther. She is one of Jada & Snow Leopard's kittens, a special pair if on par with Hopes & Parley. She has grit & grace & greatness in her.
Ian, your presence was needed when we fished the kittens out from under the garden shed at Gallagher's to bring them in at six weeks. It is needed now. By the cats, by your sister, by the brother-in-law who's so much like you in so many ways. Let your silent presence fill this quiet house, helping your cats restore their health, helping us be good, loving guardians of our beloveds.
I feel responsible. Told the Universe that I want a more welcoming house - one that doesn't reek of cat scents. This was not what I envisioned.
A reason the Universe brought the cats into my life was to spur me into being a better housekeeper. But the blocks were bigger than the incentive. This might have happened anyway, but it feels like I let them all down. I feel like I let myself down. I didn't rise to the occasion.
Will let the tears drip, while using all this as fresh information. Will continue the personal work that's been aided in so many ways by these precious lives, insights that were only possible due to their presence in our life. Let myself feel sadness & hope & gratitude. Let all those emotions have their impact, then move forward, leaving me more in contact, in connection with what truly is.
John found Sophie, in a far far corner. She moved even farther. She is one of Jada & Snow Leopard's kittens, a special pair if on par with Hopes & Parley. She has grit & grace & greatness in her.
Ian, your presence was needed when we fished the kittens out from under the garden shed at Gallagher's to bring them in at six weeks. It is needed now. By the cats, by your sister, by the brother-in-law who's so much like you in so many ways. Let your silent presence fill this quiet house, helping your cats restore their health, helping us be good, loving guardians of our beloveds.
Sunday, October 26, 2014
Lessons learned
Yesterday's cast party went better
than the previous ones, but certainly had its share of dramas - John
forgot to come home between the matinee & evening performances, so I
had to lug all the bags out to the car without letting any kitties
escape (success!) & haul out two cases of beer from the garage
fridge & many large bottles of soda, then lug it all out at Gail
& Scott's. Somewhere between the house & the party site, a major
food bag went total walk about - there's a possum or racoon out there
having a grand old time with his booty. Deep sixed several dishes.
It was not the party I'd planned - scratched several items from my menu due to time or lack of fridge space (Candy Bar Apple Salad). But we had MORE than enough food. Cast & crew were undoubtedly hungry, but they were also tired, which suppresses appetite.
Anyhow, am now looking down the road to the spring production, THE SECRET GARDEN ~ the musical. Plenty of notes & suggestions for the person heading up the cast party!
It was not the party I'd planned - scratched several items from my menu due to time or lack of fridge space (Candy Bar Apple Salad). But we had MORE than enough food. Cast & crew were undoubtedly hungry, but they were also tired, which suppresses appetite.
Anyhow, am now looking down the road to the spring production, THE SECRET GARDEN ~ the musical. Plenty of notes & suggestions for the person heading up the cast party!
What I've Learned Over the Past Few Years About Cast Parties
(an ongoing education):
MANTRA – simple simple simple
LITTLE WOMEN was a
great eye opener. Work with a TEAM - Jennifer Cole & Shada Sullivan were
invaluable, made me realize how limited I’ve been. Pick Kathy Pitcairn’s brain – super hostess.
ASK!
Get together with whoever has offered their house for the cast party. How can B-Act help with prep? Hire
someone, if need be. Offering the house should be their major
contribution, not cleaning & set up. Check out the socializing
& prep areas. Review expectations of available fridge/freezer
space. Make sure you're all on the same page. When is a good time for you to arrive without being an inconvenience? The earlier, the better, hopefully no later than 7:00 (dream scenario - an hour before final curtain, you're all done & just chilling). What can you drop off earlier in the day without it being a bother. Is there a time they want everyone OUT of the house? Work out with the board & the hosts details about general clean up & more in-depth (taking down extra chairs, vacuuming).
TO DO
At least a month before the party, check out your paper
goods. What does B-Act have on hand,
what needs to be purchased – plates, bowls, napkins, cutlery, cups
– for soda & wine. I will be doing an inventory before returning
the supply to B-Act's custody, but things can disappear over six months. Mantra #2 - the earlier the better (for most things).
At least a week before the party, visit the location. Become familiar with the fridge & oven - especially the oven. Learn how it works - take notes, if you have to. Check out your prep space. If okay to use the host’s serving spoons, how
many are available? Do you need to bring a tablecloth(s)h? What about coasters? Are extra chairs needed? Where will food be served? Work out with the board & the hosts a reasonable hour to
start clean up. - - Print out invitations with directions, ask host if okay to include their phone # or
include your cell; arrange clear signage at
the site; review any parking issues.
- - Check
with cast & crew on food allergies. Hand out invitations to cast
& crew. Make it clear on invitation if spouses & significant
others are/are not included; parents of minors are always welcome.
By Wednesday before party, get a head count from the producer for who expects to come.
Have someone call at intermission & final curtain.
FOOD - lessons learned
Two regular-sized
casseroles should be fine. Plain mac & cheese was the #1 choice. Suggest either Company Chicken or adapt Carol Henderson’s Chicken with
Broccoli (use bite-sized white & dark meat, broccoli florets. Can't go wrong with a crock pot of vegetarian chili, with
fixings. Bake casseroles no later than the day before –
two days before is optimum – and serve room temp. Same for chili, serve hot in crock pot. Casseroles & chili can be put together
months ahead of time & FROZEN.
Sips – Philadelphia Brewing Company variety pack was
popular. The Shocktop, not so much. Stick with Phila Brewing. One case should be fine. ~ Ran out of chardonay, half of the cabernet was left - Foxhorn is very affordable AND drinkable (and has screw cap). ~ Bought a full range of brand name sodas, on sale for 88 cents a large bottle. Also had cranberry juice, sparkling lemonade & flavored seltzer waters. The more ice the better - recommend a 22 lb bag (Wawa) & a smaller one. Each drink location should have an ice bucket. Be sure to have two regular size or one extra large ice cooler for the sodas (if using cans) & beer. I prefer large bottles - people can have as much or as little of one or more non-alcoholic beverages. Make sure NO minor is drinking. Decaf or just skip?
Desserts – simple simple simple. Grapes & cut up pineapple, gluten-free
cupcakes, g-f brownies (Jennifer Cole’s
were popular with everyone), cookies. Remember dessert when you're checking out plates & cutlery.
Nibbles – bag of potato chips, of tortilla chips, of
Doritos, of veggie chips; plain
crackers, Triscuits, Ritz Cheddar;
carmelized onion dip was very popular (chop two med onions, sautee in 5
tbs butter with ½ tsp salt until golden brown, add one cup of sour cream); guacamole from Trader Joe’s; hummus with red pepper served with
veggies. Simple simple simple
Salad – lettuce went virtually untouched; suggest broccoli with bacon & raisins (big hit), 7-layer salad,
pasta with peppers, deviled eggs, tomato caprese skewers (halve small ball of marinated mozz, skewer cheese-basil
leaf or thin sliced pepperoni, cherry tomato)
http://www.wikihow.com/Peel-an-Egg http://www.seriouseats.com/2014/05/the-secrets-to-peeling-hard-boiled-eggs.html http://www.realsimple.com/magazine-more/inside-magazine/ask-real-simple/ask-real-simple-peeling-hard-boiled-eggs;
Sure I'll have lots more to add over the coming months!
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
I know what I know
Years & years ago, it struck me that my personal motto was "I know what I know." Today, it still speaks what's in my heart, declares what I believe to be so. It might not be reflected in my life, but it is what I believe, above almost all.
We are responsible for living the way we know is best. When we don't, there are greater reverberations than simply not making the better decision. It is a deeper belief that 99.9999% of what I was taught about what we should believe. I think it came bred into my bones.
When I know something to be one way or the other, then I am called to live my life according to that understanding. It's not easy, yet still it is true. When we go against what know to be right, we do unimaginable damage across infinite spectrums.
Know what we know & live according to it. Simple & complex. If I know that what I know matters, then why does it make any sense to act contrary to that knowledge? It might feel the better choice in any given moment, but at 62 I am old enough to know a moment lived without regard for my deepest beliefs is a moment I haven't lived.
10/23/14
2:45 a.m.
We are responsible for living the way we know is best. When we don't, there are greater reverberations than simply not making the better decision. It is a deeper belief that 99.9999% of what I was taught about what we should believe. I think it came bred into my bones.
When I know something to be one way or the other, then I am called to live my life according to that understanding. It's not easy, yet still it is true. When we go against what know to be right, we do unimaginable damage across infinite spectrums.
Know what we know & live according to it. Simple & complex. If I know that what I know matters, then why does it make any sense to act contrary to that knowledge? It might feel the better choice in any given moment, but at 62 I am old enough to know a moment lived without regard for my deepest beliefs is a moment I haven't lived.
10/23/14
2:45 a.m.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
What a dream
Woke up a few moments ago from a dream. Well, not sure if "woke up from" is right. Something was happening in the dream, or in the state of mind that felt like a dream but might have been something else. Something, some realization, some great can't-remember-what, was about to be granted. And just as was about to happen, I thought or said words that made the whole great I'll-never-remember go pouf.
As soon as the words, whatever they were, formed in my mind or were expressed in some way, I knew with a crushing certainty that I'd cut myself off from the very thing that had been on the brink of happening. Trying to keep it from happening, trying to keep the words - which I could see hanging in the air, like some printed typeface - from being real even as I realized the enormity of what I'd done, screamed something about it not happening, about it not being too late, in spite of knowing that as soon as the words formed, it was too late, whatever it was too late for. And I literally screamed them, literally screamed it was NOT too late, that I had NOT done the inexplicably personally horrific thing that I clearly had.
What was the dream about? Haven't a clue. And now I never will. That ship has sailed, sailed off with Winken, Blinken & Nod, into the land of never happened. Almost, but never.
As soon as the words, whatever they were, formed in my mind or were expressed in some way, I knew with a crushing certainty that I'd cut myself off from the very thing that had been on the brink of happening. Trying to keep it from happening, trying to keep the words - which I could see hanging in the air, like some printed typeface - from being real even as I realized the enormity of what I'd done, screamed something about it not happening, about it not being too late, in spite of knowing that as soon as the words formed, it was too late, whatever it was too late for. And I literally screamed them, literally screamed it was NOT too late, that I had NOT done the inexplicably personally horrific thing that I clearly had.
What was the dream about? Haven't a clue. And now I never will. That ship has sailed, sailed off with Winken, Blinken & Nod, into the land of never happened. Almost, but never.
Monday, October 20, 2014
The veggie challenge
Straying from my preferred vegetarian diet always leaves me feeling sort of icky, more closed than open. Starting today, when out to a meal with friends or clients, will challenge myself to find the most appetizing vegetarian option on the menu, then order that. Don't fuss & fume with making it vegan - for now, allow dairy & eggs. For now. Might not be the most appetizing of all options, but will rank as the most appetizing of my best-choice options!
And I am sooooo worth making best choices!
Sunday, October 19, 2014
Living from the Heart
Long story short - didn't go to Rowe. Was in my rental car, all packed with a variety of outfits (would it be mild? chilly? cold? had to be prepared for all), a huge roll of bedding (including the wedding quilt from "Aunt" Gay & Mom), a trio of stuffies, a couple books, and a friend's Kindle. ON MY WAY. Literally, on the road. When something outside of my control - something not distressing, but important - made me realize that the best decision was to stay home.
Back went the rental car (mega kudos to Enterprise for not dinging me; charged me one day of the weekend, which they did not have to do). Bridal quilt went back on the marital bed. Ok, clothes still need to be unpacked.
My #1 memory was how it felt NOT feeling disappointed. Not feeling relieved. Not feeling any feeling. Not numb, far from numb. Just the sense of making the right decision for the right reasons. Doing what was in front of me to do, without ties to past expectations or trying to forecast the future.
Living from the heart, being in the Now.
Back went the rental car (mega kudos to Enterprise for not dinging me; charged me one day of the weekend, which they did not have to do). Bridal quilt went back on the marital bed. Ok, clothes still need to be unpacked.
My #1 memory was how it felt NOT feeling disappointed. Not feeling relieved. Not feeling any feeling. Not numb, far from numb. Just the sense of making the right decision for the right reasons. Doing what was in front of me to do, without ties to past expectations or trying to forecast the future.
Living from the heart, being in the Now.
Friday, October 17, 2014
The New Murphy's Law
If it can work, I will make it work.
That's the new Murphy's Law. Not my idea - there's a book of that title. But gotta say that at this moment, on this day, I feel like I personify it.
Yesterday, it dawned on me mid-afternoon that I had not transferred enough money in my credit card account to cover the required hold on the rental car I'm picking up an hour from now. The money was available, but I hadn't put enough into the credit card acct. $25 dollars short. (The amount needed increased significantly from last year - praise be, I had a distant memory from when I rented at the end of July.)
It was being proactive, not panicking even an itty bitty bit, just doing what was in front of me that needed doing - and if it didn't work, knowing I'd done my best - that made the difference. When I went into the acct this a.m., there was the full cushion, but all would have been well if it hadn't been there, too. Just would have stayed home.
But I am not. Am on my way to Rowe, on my way to a writing workshop with Nancy Slonim Aronie. I made it what needed to be done - what was in front of me.
Praise be & hallelujah!
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
inconceivable incredible unbelievable unimaginable
Oh, the power of those four words.
I've spent a lifetime bashing into situations that others were simply unable to process. It's easier to disbelieve what's smack dab in front of them than to find a way to grasp what feels inherently unimaginable, even when it's utterly real.
Growing up in a family that defied rational understanding, being able to see & accept as viable what was literally inconceivable to others, is my norm.
It never mattered how clearly I could lay things out, didn't do any good if folks couldn't imagine conceive credit believe reality.
There is no getting people to understand something if they're unable to process basic information.
Difference between my life today & even last year, even this past summer, is I don't expect it to change. I don't expect people to suddenly be able to process the inconceivable incredible unbelievable unimaginable.
I've spent a lifetime bashing into situations that others were simply unable to process. It's easier to disbelieve what's smack dab in front of them than to find a way to grasp what feels inherently unimaginable, even when it's utterly real.
Growing up in a family that defied rational understanding, being able to see & accept as viable what was literally inconceivable to others, is my norm.
It never mattered how clearly I could lay things out, didn't do any good if folks couldn't imagine conceive credit believe reality.
There is no getting people to understand something if they're unable to process basic information.
Difference between my life today & even last year, even this past summer, is I don't expect it to change. I don't expect people to suddenly be able to process the inconceivable incredible unbelievable unimaginable.
Now, what they can & can't do isn't doesn't enslave me any more. Because that is what it did, for most of my life. I felt wrapped up, bound to finding a rational response to things totally outside my own world. Oh, I will always be intrigued. My family IS magnificently intriguing, well worth a long, in-depth look. But from a distance - engaged, not enthralled. Night & day difference.
Being able to experience what's inconceivable incredible unbelievable unimaginable to most people has made me an equal opportunity bee in a bonnet, a goad, a burr under the saddle. Because I CAN conceive credit believe imagine the absurd & ludicrous. Once a curse, now a... not sure what. Ask me in a few years!
Being able to experience what's inconceivable incredible unbelievable unimaginable to most people has made me an equal opportunity bee in a bonnet, a goad, a burr under the saddle. Because I CAN conceive credit believe imagine the absurd & ludicrous. Once a curse, now a... not sure what. Ask me in a few years!
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Physical health, personal identity
Until this past Saturday, had never given much (if any) thought to the relationship between physical health & personal identity. Then, within 24 hours, I learned that my sister is living in a nursing home's locked-down Alzheimer's unit (she does not have dementia) & doesn't seem to have any intention of being moved into a regular living area. And I was introduced to Susan Krauss Whitbourne, Ph.D. A powerhouse combination that sent me on an intriguing meander around the internet.
Per her Psychology Today profile, Dr. Whitbourne's "research covers a wide range of topics related to adult development and aging, including personality development through midlife, contributors to successful aging, predictors of memory performance, and the relationship between physical health and sense of personal identity."
My jaw dropped as my brain read that last bit, thinking about Mim, not just right now but throughout her life. And got me thinking about the chicken & the egg nature of what I've always experienced with my considerably older only sister - was her personal identity messed up because of her hormone-induced weight problems ~or~ were her weight problems exacerbated by personal identity issues? Or are the two so interconnected, there's no figuring out which preceded & which followed which?
It doesn't matter. Now, the two are toxically intertwined.
Weirdly enough, an article by Victoria AU's Department of Health created a mega AH HA! realization. A sentence left me drop jawed with enlightenment - Well-designed physical and social environments focusing on the quality of everyday life can help people continue in relationships that uphold a sense of identity and promote self-esteem.
No matter what her environment was, Mim NEVER seemed to evidence a strong sense of healthy personal identity, let alone a scintilla of self-esteem.
Over the decades, she never - at least in talking to me - showed respect for individuals, being highly critical, often derisive about people she claimed to care about. Will never forget her standing at a cousin's wedding reception & ripping into the mini franks in sauce, the surroundings in a shopping center, the hopelessly middle class crass of it all. And she LIKED these people. One reason I never learned basic socialization skills was because at home all we ever talked about - and none too charitably - was politics & other families.
Mim has always been a weird combination of a superficial bristly independence layered over deep dependency. Mom nailed it when she observed how much Mim resented paying for necessities & did so as little as possible. How she managed to get her undergrad degree from NYU & her masters from Rutgers - tuition, books, all of the incidental costs - remains a mystery for someone who didn't have a job, who apparently had no savings, and no other visible sign of equity.
Mim never had the slightest interest in improving family communication skills. All my efforts hit dead ends. "Maybe someday" was always dangled with the "but not now" refusal to have family councils with a communications professional. Impaired communication seemed to suit her just fine.
As for unmet needs - that was her typical state. For years, I bitterly joked that Mim could consider herself the most essential member of the family, because Mom & I loved to be of service to others & she gave us infinite opportunities. Sadly, while I was willing to let her forage for herself, Mom was not. Part of me was grudgingly impressed with my sister's knowledge of just which word or just which simple action would trigger Mom's sense of maternal protection for her chronically needy older daughter. I was spot on in calling her an emotional black hole.
It still intrigues me how Mim was all barriers, while expecting that Mom & I would have none. While I learned to respect my own, it was always a struggle for Mom. From her late youth, earliest adulthood, she'd had such expectations ripped from her. She was okay with Mim being all insurmountable walls & herself utterly vulnerable because that had been her reality since what probably felt like forever.
A certain high level of stress was built into associating with Mim, and with Peter as well. They were high maintenance children & siblings. it took John to point out that crying jags were really NOT meant to be part of a typical Christmas celebration. In my experience, they'd always been. Stress-free routines were never part of my family experience. Peter was always wishing we'd just disappear & Mim was always doing her best to spend most of her time with whatever other family held her heart. We were always the fall back, the place they ended up when no other was available.
One of the strangest experiences I ever had with my sister happened when I was around 10 or 11; she would have been 18 or 19. She described to me how when she married there would be all these different other girls in her wedding, but not me. It was strange because Mim had never, to the best of my knowledge, had the slightest interest in going out with a boy. She took great pleasure in describing how she would have turned down dates for the various required school dances, but knew that the guys would have to do "coal pile" (serve detention) if they didn't ask her. It delighted her. She never exuded any sense of sexuality, rarely took any pains to make herself look nice. It was only when she was in her forties that she took any interest in how her hair looked or developed any fashion sense. It's always seemed strange to me that my sister-in-law pegged ME as the latent lesbian, not Mim. But I've never thought of Mim as having any definable sexuality.
Small wonder the article from Victoria's Department of Health hit me so strong. It starts with behaviors that others should evidence when around people with dementia to nurture feelings of dignity & respect, to help support their sense of personal identity:
Did she shy away from them because of physical problems that were present from the time she was a chunky toddler, or did lack of them contribute to her weight problems, her lack of personal hygiene, her sense of being unattractive & unlikable? Does she live in a locked-down Alzheimer's unit rather than independently because she's thinks it's all she's worth ~or~ because she looks great, in comparison to everyone else?
Who's to know?
Am finally past caring.
She's where she wants to be.
Let that be enough.
Per her Psychology Today profile, Dr. Whitbourne's "research covers a wide range of topics related to adult development and aging, including personality development through midlife, contributors to successful aging, predictors of memory performance, and the relationship between physical health and sense of personal identity."
My jaw dropped as my brain read that last bit, thinking about Mim, not just right now but throughout her life. And got me thinking about the chicken & the egg nature of what I've always experienced with my considerably older only sister - was her personal identity messed up because of her hormone-induced weight problems ~or~ were her weight problems exacerbated by personal identity issues? Or are the two so interconnected, there's no figuring out which preceded & which followed which?
It doesn't matter. Now, the two are toxically intertwined.
Weirdly enough, an article by Victoria AU's Department of Health created a mega AH HA! realization. A sentence left me drop jawed with enlightenment - Well-designed physical and social environments focusing on the quality of everyday life can help people continue in relationships that uphold a sense of identity and promote self-esteem.
No matter what her environment was, Mim NEVER seemed to evidence a strong sense of healthy personal identity, let alone a scintilla of self-esteem.
Over the decades, she never - at least in talking to me - showed respect for individuals, being highly critical, often derisive about people she claimed to care about. Will never forget her standing at a cousin's wedding reception & ripping into the mini franks in sauce, the surroundings in a shopping center, the hopelessly middle class crass of it all. And she LIKED these people. One reason I never learned basic socialization skills was because at home all we ever talked about - and none too charitably - was politics & other families.
Mim has always been a weird combination of a superficial bristly independence layered over deep dependency. Mom nailed it when she observed how much Mim resented paying for necessities & did so as little as possible. How she managed to get her undergrad degree from NYU & her masters from Rutgers - tuition, books, all of the incidental costs - remains a mystery for someone who didn't have a job, who apparently had no savings, and no other visible sign of equity.
Mim never had the slightest interest in improving family communication skills. All my efforts hit dead ends. "Maybe someday" was always dangled with the "but not now" refusal to have family councils with a communications professional. Impaired communication seemed to suit her just fine.
As for unmet needs - that was her typical state. For years, I bitterly joked that Mim could consider herself the most essential member of the family, because Mom & I loved to be of service to others & she gave us infinite opportunities. Sadly, while I was willing to let her forage for herself, Mom was not. Part of me was grudgingly impressed with my sister's knowledge of just which word or just which simple action would trigger Mom's sense of maternal protection for her chronically needy older daughter. I was spot on in calling her an emotional black hole.
It still intrigues me how Mim was all barriers, while expecting that Mom & I would have none. While I learned to respect my own, it was always a struggle for Mom. From her late youth, earliest adulthood, she'd had such expectations ripped from her. She was okay with Mim being all insurmountable walls & herself utterly vulnerable because that had been her reality since what probably felt like forever.
A certain high level of stress was built into associating with Mim, and with Peter as well. They were high maintenance children & siblings. it took John to point out that crying jags were really NOT meant to be part of a typical Christmas celebration. In my experience, they'd always been. Stress-free routines were never part of my family experience. Peter was always wishing we'd just disappear & Mim was always doing her best to spend most of her time with whatever other family held her heart. We were always the fall back, the place they ended up when no other was available.
One of the strangest experiences I ever had with my sister happened when I was around 10 or 11; she would have been 18 or 19. She described to me how when she married there would be all these different other girls in her wedding, but not me. It was strange because Mim had never, to the best of my knowledge, had the slightest interest in going out with a boy. She took great pleasure in describing how she would have turned down dates for the various required school dances, but knew that the guys would have to do "coal pile" (serve detention) if they didn't ask her. It delighted her. She never exuded any sense of sexuality, rarely took any pains to make herself look nice. It was only when she was in her forties that she took any interest in how her hair looked or developed any fashion sense. It's always seemed strange to me that my sister-in-law pegged ME as the latent lesbian, not Mim. But I've never thought of Mim as having any definable sexuality.
Small wonder the article from Victoria's Department of Health hit me so strong. It starts with behaviors that others should evidence when around people with dementia to nurture feelings of dignity & respect, to help support their sense of personal identity:
- Respect individuals
- Encourage independence
- Communicate appropriately
- Understand unmet needs
- Provide a barrier-free environment
- Plan stress-free care routines
- Respect sexuality
Did she shy away from them because of physical problems that were present from the time she was a chunky toddler, or did lack of them contribute to her weight problems, her lack of personal hygiene, her sense of being unattractive & unlikable? Does she live in a locked-down Alzheimer's unit rather than independently because she's thinks it's all she's worth ~or~ because she looks great, in comparison to everyone else?
Who's to know?
Am finally past caring.
She's where she wants to be.
Let that be enough.
Black Cat Cafe Triple Chocolate Cake
Blessing on my oldest brother, Peter, for introducing me to this fabulous yum from The Black Cat Cafe. It's my go-to recipe for far-from-standard chocolate cupcakes! You'll find three types of chocolate in this cake, plus The Cupcake Lady's frosting has two types of chocolate, for a grand total of five different forms of bliss in one cupcake!!
Triple Chocolate Cake
1 box instant Hershey's chocolate pudding
1 ¾ cups of milk
2 eggs
1 box of devil’s food cake mix
1/3 bag mini semi-sweet chocolate chips
In a mixer combine pudding and milk. Add edds and devil’s food cake mix. Combine well. Then add the chocolate chips.
Spray a 12-cup bundt pan with cooking spray and use a brush to cover all crevices. The pan should only be ¾ full. Bake for 50 minutes, allow to cool 15 minutes then turn out on cooling rack.
For cupcakes, I bake them according to the instructions on the box, doing the usual touch to make sure they're done. (You can smell when they're ready to come out of the oven.)
For the piped frosting, I throw together Betty Crocker's Milk Chocolate & Dark Chocolate icings, taking care to NOT blend them. Interesting look when piped. If I was frosting as a cake, I'd use Mom's Fudge Frosting recipe. Will look for it!
Triple Chocolate Cake
1 box instant Hershey's chocolate pudding
1 ¾ cups of milk
2 eggs
1 box of devil’s food cake mix
1/3 bag mini semi-sweet chocolate chips
In a mixer combine pudding and milk. Add edds and devil’s food cake mix. Combine well. Then add the chocolate chips.
Spray a 12-cup bundt pan with cooking spray and use a brush to cover all crevices. The pan should only be ¾ full. Bake for 50 minutes, allow to cool 15 minutes then turn out on cooling rack.
For cupcakes, I bake them according to the instructions on the box, doing the usual touch to make sure they're done. (You can smell when they're ready to come out of the oven.)
For the piped frosting, I throw together Betty Crocker's Milk Chocolate & Dark Chocolate icings, taking care to NOT blend them. Interesting look when piped. If I was frosting as a cake, I'd use Mom's Fudge Frosting recipe. Will look for it!
The Cupcake Lady's Classic Whoopie Pie Recipe
Classic Whoopie Pies
2 cups flour
1/2 cup Dutch process cocoa
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
8 T unsalted butter, room temperature
1 cup brown sugar
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla
1/4 tsp coffee extract (optional)
1 cup buttermilk*
1 tsp vanilla extract
Filling – I use Betty Crocker’s Fluffy White frosting
1) Cakes: Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line two baking sheets with parchment or a silicone baking sheets.
2) Whisk flour, cocoa, baking soda, and salt together.
3) With a mixer, beat butter and sugar until fluffy. Mix in egg and vanilla. Mix in flour mixture and buttermilk alternately in two batches.
4) Scoop 1/3 cup batter onto baking sheets (I use a large scoop), 6 per sheet. Bake until cakes spring back when touched, 15-18 minutes. Cool cakes on baking sheet for at least an hour.
6) Filling: I use a large scoop to put about 1/3 cup of filling on the flat side of one cake (err on the side of generous), top with flat side of another cake and lightly press together. Repeat with remaining cakes - you will need at least 1 1/2 cans of frosting to fill all the cakes. I usually get 8 "pies" out of one batch, plus a half left over to frost for John.
Easiest way to store is to wrap each Whoopie in Saran wrap (my preference). Will keep in a cool cupboard for a week, in the fridge for two, and freeze like a dream.
* Once I got tired of throwing out unused buttermilk, I substituted 1 tablespoon white vinegar poured into a cup measure, then topped with milk; let rest for at least 15 minutes. FYI - the dried buttermilk substitute has never worked for me.
Monday, October 13, 2014
I (heart) Susan Krauss Whitbourne, Ph.D.!!
And you should, too!
I discovered her due to a Huffington Post article that seriously bugged me. It was spot on in describing a problem that holds me back, but it didn't share can-do steps for making improvements. Inspired an online search of said problem & my discovery of Susan Krauss Whitbourne, Ph.D - - who is, it turns out, the very same author of the abysmally inadequate HuffPo piece (woefully condensed from an excellent article in Pschology Today)!
Sadly, there was no link to said article, nor any mention of her Fulfillment at Any Age blog.
Of course, condensed anything can't approach the real thing. Especially paring down an article on such key life skills as wise start & savvy stop controls.
For folks like me, who KNOW we stink at picking the best next step task & sticking with it all the way to satisfactory completion, describing our dilemma is not a solution. We need constructive, do-able, next steps.
Now, the Psychology Today piece - praise be, that's the real deal, a gauntlet thrown down, challenging me to pick it up & enter into the fight for saner, more effective, satisfying life experiences.
Turns out Susan Krauss Whitbourne, Ph.D.is a woman after my own heart, Her grad students focus on life-span development, small wonder with her own professional interests/expertise includes adult development & aging, contributions to wholesome aging, aging & exercise, and the relationship between physical health & personal identity*.
You never know where an online search will lead? Would NEVER have guessed that the very person who wrote the woeful article - the very article, in it's complete form - would inspire & uplift me, would provide understanding & give hope for a future better.
And realizing, all over again, that one of the crucial gifts I bring to my elder care anarchy calling is the time to check out these things, to find the resources, to connect others to apt info & applicable support. To dig out & openly share how we can help loved ones & friends celebrate being engaged, energized,empowered elders.
* The last - the relationship between physical health & personal identity - just seized my fuller attention this past weekend. Learned that my brilliant but physically limited sister is staying, at her preference, in a nursing home's shut-down Alzheimer's unit - has chosen to stay there, rather than move into standard quarters.
Start + Stop = Success
Have not been attacked by yellow jackets (unlike a dear friend of mine, while planting fruit trees!), but find myself this morning with a very large bee in my bonnet. Good start control, good stop control & success.
It all started with an article on Huffington Post - Become A Successful Midlifer By Managing Your Self-Control. It discussed a study that considered "dispositional self-control," testing a sampling of 10-year olds, then tracking them through their mid-20s. With the youngsters, it focused on study habits, ability to work on specific tasks, participating in sports, belonging to school clubs & other extra-curricular activities.
It's no surprise that they found the children with developed "start control" & "stop control" (aka ability to start & perseverance to continue to completion) were significantly more likely to achieve success as adults. Reading "Having greater ability to control their thoughts, feelings and behaviors as kids led the participants to show fewer acting-out behaviors as teens, to do better in school and ultimately to become poised to have more productive and satisfying adult lives," had me reverting to my own inner 10-year old, saying 'DUH!" and wanting to puke. Explain to me - again - why I am challenged to get things DONE. Tell me something that's not as obvious as the nose on my face.
And it's downright quibbling to say that there's any serious distinction between self-control, perseverance, "start control" and "stop control." To add insult to what felt like the injury of wasted time reading a nothin'-new-here article, a scant 1/6 of the entire piece talked about setting things right as an adult. This has got to be right up there with one of the most DUH! things I've ever read:
There are reasons to be hopeful that you can expand on your self-control and abilities to persevere even if these were never your forte. Perseverance can become a highly rewarding mental state if, as you put your mental energies to completing a task, you allow yourself to enjoy the fruits of your hard work.
The next time you're ready to give up on a tough task, then, recognize that there are many practical and emotional benefits to sticking with it. Like the young adults in the Converse et al study, those benefits might eventually translate into greater career success. Even if you don't see a direct payoff, though, you'll at least feel that you tried. In the long run, your inner satisfaction will benefit from knowing you gave it your all.
So, the way to develop better start/stop skills as an adult is to consciously start & stop more effectively. And HuffPo thinks this stuff is ground-breaking enough to give it space? Hey, I know that my start-stop control is a teensy fraction of Dave & Candy's, the most successful - on many levels -people I know. How do I ramp it up? No help here. BUT it did get me curious & doing an online search.
Which led me to an article - by the same author! - in Psychology Today ~ Prop Up Your Perseverance and You Can Succeed at Anything channel your inner can-do attitude and watch your successes soar.
Wait - not just an article by the same author, but the SAME article. Well, almost - longer, more indepth, actually HELPFUL.
Went back to the HuffPo article - had I missed a link to the longer article, some reference to it? Nope, not a peep. Praise be for being curious for more, or I would have missed the meaty stuff that can actually make a DIFFERENCE to people like me, who didn't develop essential pick-the-right-task and then stick-to-it until done skills as a kid.
Is there a possibility that I can seriously turn around my woefully deficient, yet deeply yearned for, selection & perseverance skills? Stay tuned. Apparently, there's another pair of helping hands on my horizon, belonging to Susan Krauss Whitbourne, Ph.D.!
It all started with an article on Huffington Post - Become A Successful Midlifer By Managing Your Self-Control. It discussed a study that considered "dispositional self-control," testing a sampling of 10-year olds, then tracking them through their mid-20s. With the youngsters, it focused on study habits, ability to work on specific tasks, participating in sports, belonging to school clubs & other extra-curricular activities.
It's no surprise that they found the children with developed "start control" & "stop control" (aka ability to start & perseverance to continue to completion) were significantly more likely to achieve success as adults. Reading "Having greater ability to control their thoughts, feelings and behaviors as kids led the participants to show fewer acting-out behaviors as teens, to do better in school and ultimately to become poised to have more productive and satisfying adult lives," had me reverting to my own inner 10-year old, saying 'DUH!" and wanting to puke. Explain to me - again - why I am challenged to get things DONE. Tell me something that's not as obvious as the nose on my face.
And it's downright quibbling to say that there's any serious distinction between self-control, perseverance, "start control" and "stop control." To add insult to what felt like the injury of wasted time reading a nothin'-new-here article, a scant 1/6 of the entire piece talked about setting things right as an adult. This has got to be right up there with one of the most DUH! things I've ever read:
There are reasons to be hopeful that you can expand on your self-control and abilities to persevere even if these were never your forte. Perseverance can become a highly rewarding mental state if, as you put your mental energies to completing a task, you allow yourself to enjoy the fruits of your hard work.
The next time you're ready to give up on a tough task, then, recognize that there are many practical and emotional benefits to sticking with it. Like the young adults in the Converse et al study, those benefits might eventually translate into greater career success. Even if you don't see a direct payoff, though, you'll at least feel that you tried. In the long run, your inner satisfaction will benefit from knowing you gave it your all.
So, the way to develop better start/stop skills as an adult is to consciously start & stop more effectively. And HuffPo thinks this stuff is ground-breaking enough to give it space? Hey, I know that my start-stop control is a teensy fraction of Dave & Candy's, the most successful - on many levels -people I know. How do I ramp it up? No help here. BUT it did get me curious & doing an online search.
Which led me to an article - by the same author! - in Psychology Today ~ Prop Up Your Perseverance and You Can Succeed at Anything channel your inner can-do attitude and watch your successes soar.
Wait - not just an article by the same author, but the SAME article. Well, almost - longer, more indepth, actually HELPFUL.
Went back to the HuffPo article - had I missed a link to the longer article, some reference to it? Nope, not a peep. Praise be for being curious for more, or I would have missed the meaty stuff that can actually make a DIFFERENCE to people like me, who didn't develop essential pick-the-right-task and then stick-to-it until done skills as a kid.
Is there a possibility that I can seriously turn around my woefully deficient, yet deeply yearned for, selection & perseverance skills? Stay tuned. Apparently, there's another pair of helping hands on my horizon, belonging to Susan Krauss Whitbourne, Ph.D.!
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
taking things personally
By the time I finish this post, it will close onto 2:00 a.m. Should have been asleep for several hours. Except, I took something personally. I put something in the context of the past & of ancient hurts rather than seeing what was in front of me, devoid of distracting baggage.
The incident doesn't matter. What matters is seeing where it went off the rails. When I experienced what happened in an immediate moment as a layered experience, with the presenting moment buried under a just - recent - ancient past.
Lots to ponder in that. Reframe the emotionally shredding response as if I'd just responded instead of reacting. One thing is for sure - would have gotten off to sleep a lot sooner!
The incident doesn't matter. What matters is seeing where it went off the rails. When I experienced what happened in an immediate moment as a layered experience, with the presenting moment buried under a just - recent - ancient past.
Lots to ponder in that. Reframe the emotionally shredding response as if I'd just responded instead of reacting. One thing is for sure - would have gotten off to sleep a lot sooner!
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
7000 ways
6:15 a.m.
When I woke up about 15 minutes ago, a complete awakening in spite of the outside darkness, it was the very time we would have been getting up if all had gone as planned. This was to be an early rise & shine, followed by a back roads ramble out to Devon, breakfast at our beloved Nudy's (doing our best to snag a table with a view of trains whizzing up & down the Main Line tracks), then further westward to help a friend organize her extensive book collection.
With a bit of a starting nudge last week from me followed by a rainy Saturday, the friend sorted through them on her own, so no need for our early morning westward ho!, but here I am, awake & up instead of snugged next to John, sound asleep.
A trigger of yesterday's blues was my disappointment at not heading back this morning. I'd been looking forward to getting better acquainted, to perhaps bumping the relationship further up the friendship scale.
BUT maybe the reason our paths crossed, however briefly, was to help me realize a great, buried-deep-in-my-psyche truth about a Principle just as absent from my awareness as health, order, recognition, wealth or competitiveness - listening.
Listening as a principle - let alone as primary or core P - never rose to the level of my awareness. Until last night, finally in bed after a late, glorious supper & John's introduction to the sweet pleasures of All Creatures Great & Small. Tucked in by John, who headed back down in his studio, with his reading light angled to shine over to my side, I was settled in for a good read - Mark Nepo's Seven Thousand Ways to Listen, a book plucked last week from the stacks awaiting shorting.
Mark Nepo is a remarkable writer. His books have moved & changed me, so reading his latest was already on my radar, although I hadn't given any thought to the topic. It came home with me because of the author, not the subject.
Yesterday's blues were also tied to my gnawing dismay at what feels like mega deficits in easy, engaging conversation/communication skills. Great at the "Hail, fellow, well met!" openings, spurred by a deep interest in people & desire to get to know them. But abysmal at striking a genuine connection, at developing it. On several occasions, I'd be in the living room while Mom & John in the kitchen, deep in an interesting discussion - which stopped as soon as I came into view. Still remember my awe listening to Peter & Mim & Whitney having a glorious conversation over a wide range of topics while waited in a Holy Redeemer family lounge for Mom to come out of surgery - how did they do it? For eons, the art of engaging conversation has been high on my wish list - ungranted.
Then, last night, nestled under the covers, Chessie curled up next to me, was hit with a great AH HA! I never connected with the #1 ingredient to a good conversation - being a good listener.
My great AH HA! arrived on page 5. Closed the book, turned out the light, and pondered.
"How do we listen to & stay in conversation with all that is beyond our awareness?" That sentence spoke to me, but what drew me to turn off the light & contemplate went deeper - "The way we think and feel and sense our way into all we don't know is the art of intuition. It is an art of discovery. To intuit means to look upon, to instruct from within, to understand or learn by instinct. And instinct refers to a learning we are born with."
A learning we are born with. Am smiling, remembering my most incredible experience at Omega, where I connected with my just-home-from-the-hospital newborn self. That itty bitty baby totally intuited everything happening around her, instinctively knew what was expected of her.
Amazing, having that experience connect with this new reawakening to a forever knowledge - intuition is a deep form of listening that when trusted can return us to the common, irrepressible element at the center of all life and to the Oneness of things that surrounds us, both of which are at the heart of resilience."
Small wonder I turned off the light & lay in the dark, pondering. All of that actually happening depends on one thing above all others - trusting intuition.
No trust of intuition, no deep form of listening, no return to the core element at the center of all life & sense of Oneness.
Trust is essential.
As strong as that trust was in the itty bitty baby, it's been essentially stomped out of the 62-year old just awakening to a great task. Stomped out every time I asked a question with a difficult answer & got a nicer, easier-to-bear lie as a response.
More spooky wonderful - just yesterday morning, was rereading Nancy Slonim Aronie's take on this phenomenon. In Writing from the Heart, she describes how our Reality Interpreters' (aka adults) intentional misrepresentation of perception messes up a child's innate ability to see what is what. "How many of these ('for a good reason') lies do little kids have to hear before they stop trusting their inner voices."
How do I restore faith in my own beaten down & battered intuition?
Whoosh!
Now my task is to get back to square one, to that itty bitty baby who realized as soon as she caught sight of her family in residence that these were not people comfortable with clarity & open sharing, so uniformly broken that wholeness was experienced as the aberration.
Thanks to Omega, to Bethany, to Mark, to all who came before ~ and ~ to the beyond-belief fact that I am taking a workshop in less than two weeks from Nancy Slonim Aronie (!!!), am moving briskly toward it!
When I woke up about 15 minutes ago, a complete awakening in spite of the outside darkness, it was the very time we would have been getting up if all had gone as planned. This was to be an early rise & shine, followed by a back roads ramble out to Devon, breakfast at our beloved Nudy's (doing our best to snag a table with a view of trains whizzing up & down the Main Line tracks), then further westward to help a friend organize her extensive book collection.
With a bit of a starting nudge last week from me followed by a rainy Saturday, the friend sorted through them on her own, so no need for our early morning westward ho!, but here I am, awake & up instead of snugged next to John, sound asleep.
A trigger of yesterday's blues was my disappointment at not heading back this morning. I'd been looking forward to getting better acquainted, to perhaps bumping the relationship further up the friendship scale.
If books are any indication of a person's mind & character & spirit,
she is a human worth getting to know.
Listening as a principle - let alone as primary or core P - never rose to the level of my awareness. Until last night, finally in bed after a late, glorious supper & John's introduction to the sweet pleasures of All Creatures Great & Small. Tucked in by John, who headed back down in his studio, with his reading light angled to shine over to my side, I was settled in for a good read - Mark Nepo's Seven Thousand Ways to Listen, a book plucked last week from the stacks awaiting shorting.
Mark Nepo is a remarkable writer. His books have moved & changed me, so reading his latest was already on my radar, although I hadn't given any thought to the topic. It came home with me because of the author, not the subject.
Yesterday's blues were also tied to my gnawing dismay at what feels like mega deficits in easy, engaging conversation/communication skills. Great at the "Hail, fellow, well met!" openings, spurred by a deep interest in people & desire to get to know them. But abysmal at striking a genuine connection, at developing it. On several occasions, I'd be in the living room while Mom & John in the kitchen, deep in an interesting discussion - which stopped as soon as I came into view. Still remember my awe listening to Peter & Mim & Whitney having a glorious conversation over a wide range of topics while waited in a Holy Redeemer family lounge for Mom to come out of surgery - how did they do it? For eons, the art of engaging conversation has been high on my wish list - ungranted.
Then, last night, nestled under the covers, Chessie curled up next to me, was hit with a great AH HA! I never connected with the #1 ingredient to a good conversation - being a good listener.
And that is not me.
Well, it was, but it was trained out of me.
Decisively.
My great AH HA! arrived on page 5. Closed the book, turned out the light, and pondered.
"How do we listen to & stay in conversation with all that is beyond our awareness?" That sentence spoke to me, but what drew me to turn off the light & contemplate went deeper - "The way we think and feel and sense our way into all we don't know is the art of intuition. It is an art of discovery. To intuit means to look upon, to instruct from within, to understand or learn by instinct. And instinct refers to a learning we are born with."
A learning we are born with. Am smiling, remembering my most incredible experience at Omega, where I connected with my just-home-from-the-hospital newborn self. That itty bitty baby totally intuited everything happening around her, instinctively knew what was expected of her.
Amazing, having that experience connect with this new reawakening to a forever knowledge - intuition is a deep form of listening that when trusted can return us to the common, irrepressible element at the center of all life and to the Oneness of things that surrounds us, both of which are at the heart of resilience."
Small wonder I turned off the light & lay in the dark, pondering. All of that actually happening depends on one thing above all others - trusting intuition.
No trust of intuition, no deep form of listening, no return to the core element at the center of all life & sense of Oneness.
Trust is essential.
As strong as that trust was in the itty bitty baby, it's been essentially stomped out of the 62-year old just awakening to a great task. Stomped out every time I asked a question with a difficult answer & got a nicer, easier-to-bear lie as a response.
More spooky wonderful - just yesterday morning, was rereading Nancy Slonim Aronie's take on this phenomenon. In Writing from the Heart, she describes how our Reality Interpreters' (aka adults) intentional misrepresentation of perception messes up a child's innate ability to see what is what. "How many of these ('for a good reason') lies do little kids have to hear before they stop trusting their inner voices."
How do I restore faith in my own beaten down & battered intuition?
By continuing down the twisty turney freaky
wonderful path before me,
that started with a
long-ago student I haven't talked to in decades,
who thought I might help
solve her library-arranging challenge,
who had a book by a revered author
on an interesting topic & generously lent it to me,
which got me reading about listening
just as I was engulfed by depression
over my stunningly acute shortage of conversation skills
& over-abundance of misconstructed thoughts to words,
which lead me to the AH HA! realization that
listening is the key component of good conversation
but am gosh awful at it,
that intuition - when trusted - is a form of deep listening,
but alas trust in my intuition was pretty much
rooted out of me by self-protecting,
hopefully well-meaning
Reality Interpreters.Whoosh!
Now my task is to get back to square one, to that itty bitty baby who realized as soon as she caught sight of her family in residence that these were not people comfortable with clarity & open sharing, so uniformly broken that wholeness was experienced as the aberration.
Thanks to Omega, to Bethany, to Mark, to all who came before ~ and ~ to the beyond-belief fact that I am taking a workshop in less than two weeks from Nancy Slonim Aronie (!!!), am moving briskly toward it!
Monday, October 6, 2014
shaking the blues away
Part of constructively shaking the blues away is to look the contributing factors in the eye & stare 'em down.
We were feeling mighty pleased with ourselves, having more than enough $ squirreled away to cover this quarter's school tax bill (Neshaminy is a hefty sum). Only to get hit with plumbing repairs & car repairs & a forgotten vet bill. Praise be, the money was in the bank to cover it, but precious little left to our name.
My woeful conversation skills showed how little progress I've made in that quarter. For someone who cares so deeply for clear, safe & connecting communication, seem light years away from competency let alone mastery. Biggest obstacles - being hideously self-conscious about the mechanics & my constant expectation of profoundly failing in a countless number of possible ways.
Feeling like I totally mangled what I'd hoped to be a budding friendship & unintentionally hurting a friend through thoughtless wording just sent me tumbling late this afternoon. Effective communication has always been a top 5 principle in my life. But having it in the top 5 doesn't mean it's part of my tool kit. I am great with the glib opener, but the gift of genuinely engaging conversation - that eludes me. And, judging by today's tears, it means the world to me to improve.
One of the ways I was able to shake the blues away was to take a long, steady look at the symptoms, then to realize they are not the problem. So what is? The hunt begins!
We were feeling mighty pleased with ourselves, having more than enough $ squirreled away to cover this quarter's school tax bill (Neshaminy is a hefty sum). Only to get hit with plumbing repairs & car repairs & a forgotten vet bill. Praise be, the money was in the bank to cover it, but precious little left to our name.
My woeful conversation skills showed how little progress I've made in that quarter. For someone who cares so deeply for clear, safe & connecting communication, seem light years away from competency let alone mastery. Biggest obstacles - being hideously self-conscious about the mechanics & my constant expectation of profoundly failing in a countless number of possible ways.
Feeling like I totally mangled what I'd hoped to be a budding friendship & unintentionally hurting a friend through thoughtless wording just sent me tumbling late this afternoon. Effective communication has always been a top 5 principle in my life. But having it in the top 5 doesn't mean it's part of my tool kit. I am great with the glib opener, but the gift of genuinely engaging conversation - that eludes me. And, judging by today's tears, it means the world to me to improve.
One of the ways I was able to shake the blues away was to take a long, steady look at the symptoms, then to realize they are not the problem. So what is? The hunt begins!
cetified BEST cure for the mean reds
The certified BEST cure of the mean reds is to DO something. It is NOT to go out to supper, to eat food you didn't make & spend money you should be saving. So, am making dinner. Making a dinner I didn't even know I had the makings to whip up. Teaming a splendiferous repast of my mega-souped up Spanish Rice (double the tomatoes, with gobs of corn & kale & green peas) with Morning Star Farms riblets (delish).
And we will tuck all the kitties into the kitchen so we can snug on the couch with our awesomely good dinner & watch Season II, Episode 1 of All Creatures Great & Small, which John has never heard of, let alone seen. .
And we will tuck all the kitties into the kitchen so we can snug on the couch with our awesomely good dinner & watch Season II, Episode 1 of All Creatures Great & Small, which John has never heard of, let alone seen. .
done is better than good
On a recent Ted Talk Hour, that epic Frenchtown resident, Elizabeth Gilbert, considered, "Where Does Creativity Come From?" And she quoted a favorite quote of her mother's that is a guide to this day - "Done is better than good."
The flip was my reality, where done was equated with unideal. Once something is done, it's finite. It can be wonderful, but it will never be MORE wonderful. A completed whatever is less exciting & vibrant & promising than if we keep it forever in the potential stage. Done is prosaic, ordinary, dull & boring. Undone is better than anything & everything - that message was dinned into my young & not-so-young mind.
Done is better than good. In fact, the only reason for getting ideas is to figure out which ones really matter to you & follow them through to completion. My quandary remains - still - that the quote makes total sense to me AND goes against my grain.
The flip was my reality, where done was equated with unideal. Once something is done, it's finite. It can be wonderful, but it will never be MORE wonderful. A completed whatever is less exciting & vibrant & promising than if we keep it forever in the potential stage. Done is prosaic, ordinary, dull & boring. Undone is better than anything & everything - that message was dinned into my young & not-so-young mind.
Done is better than good. In fact, the only reason for getting ideas is to figure out which ones really matter to you & follow them through to completion. My quandary remains - still - that the quote makes total sense to me AND goes against my grain.
digging out
Well, here's a great big DUH! to me. Never occurred to me that my mega messy house - which went from slightly disheveled to flat-out catastrophe after Candy's concerned comments - was the symptom of a larger problem.
Explains so much.
Next steps, on the way!
Explains so much.
Next steps, on the way!
foot in mouth disease
Can’t remember a time I didn’t suffer from foot in
mouth disease. If something can be said
that should not or mangled in the worst possible way, I will do it. Thus it has always been.
If you could look up the antonym for “charming
conversation,” there would be a picture of me.
I did it yesterday, unintentionally saying something
that seemed perfectly innocent to me, yet was experienced by someone dear to me
as hurtful – I hadn’t thought about how the words I used could have been interpreted
by anyone who didn’t know my point.
What a challenge, never knowing what is too little,
what is too much, when I so rarely say something just right. Have found myself thinking about my mother,
who never learned how to drive because she was too preoccupied wondering about
the mechanics of a car, how it started & maintained speed &
stopped. She couldn’t just let it go
& drive. Under my tutelage, she
finally learned how to set a parking brake, but nothing more.
That’s me & conversation. I listen to John & Mom & Mim &
Peter and they all do it so effortlessly.
They build a conversation, feed it with interesting kindling, fan the
flames with pertinent observations & comments. Not me.
People scoff at my claims of being a lousy
conversationalist. They don’t know how
terrified I am of making a mistake, of not listening in the right way, of
having such pitiful background for developing engaging topics. Like Mom with cars & driving, I’m so
focused on my ignorance of the basic mechanics of a good conversation, I go
into overdrive or push the limits of propriety or can’t follow where the
conversation is naturally headed & send it off on an uncomfortable detour.
My heart was born to be filled with friends who jabber
on the phone or join me for a cuppa, who seek my advice in dark days or invite
me to join them on all the happy ones.
One reason I love Facebook to the moon & back is because of getting
to see all the other connections out there, all the friends hanging out over an
electronic fence sharing every sort of news, posting pic of every sort of fun
times.
That wasn’t the life I was cut out to live.
Love, yes.
Live, no.
How ironic. It feels to me like my oldest brother & sister always saw themselves on the outside of where they wanted to be, looking in but unable to fully be part of whatever it was. And here I am, doing the same, due to deeply etched, hopelessly flawed communication skills. Bitter, bitter irony.
Normally, all of this doesn’t make me weepy. Today, am all too aware of how my no brain/no
boundaries ways can cause others at the least discomfort, at the worst pain. I blew a fledgling friendship by letting books & place & slightly similar histories
dissolve the proper boundaries that keep tight-bud relationships safe enough to
slowly unfurl.
Hard truth - people often don’t feel safe around me, because I don’t know the
difference between okay & too far. Am too aware of the mechanics & too sure I am messing them up. They often aren't comfortable around me, yet my assumption is that I'm always blowing it, always feeling like they're mentally edging away from me.
How, at 62, do I learn proper boundaries & safe
limits? Can see them all too clearly afterward, after
the stunned look & frozen body language response.
Part of me accepts that, at 62, this is me. Work with what is. Build it into whatever is possible & don’t
regret the never was, never will be.
I get that. And
some days, like this day, it is a grief.
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