Tuesday, February 23, 2016

The Case of the Pilfered Process

For all that has been, Thanks. To all that shall be, YES.


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At some unknown time, by some unknown baddie, my sense of productive process was swiped filched stolen.  Now, what anyone could possibly do with my sense of process is anyone's guess.  My best stab is that some malicious sprite, out to do dastardly deeds, snatched it.

Got beyond merely sighing over my pilfered process after my first reading of Nancy Slonim Aronie's book, Writing from the Heart.  There, on page 117, was my first clue to tracking down & reclaiming my long-lost sense of process!  

What a stunner, discovering I'm not the only one with a long-gone process, that a beyond-brilliant goddess, one of my Earth Angels had her's snatched, too!  Have to share it, in case yours was pilfered, too.  (Instead of doing my best to recapture the sparks of what she said, am going to share each word, because it says everything of my reality.)  


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 Two terrific people!

And that's when I decided to take a closer look at my non-relationship with process. It wasn't the first time I ever connected to my feeling ~~ about my lack of discipline, my reticence to try new things, my struggle with sticking to things ~~ and the meaning of process.  It was the first time I was ready to look at it & not look away.

Process was what my husband was always in the middle of.  He was practicing juggling three balls, and he was in the process of learning four.  He knew how to play a simple waltz on his violin;  now he was in the process of learning a more complicated piece.

Process was a foreign language to me.  I was attracted to it.  I knew I wanted more, but I wanted it immediately and wanted it easily - the very antithesis of process.  With process, there's no such thing as instant or easy.  This was tough, although I now understand that there is work that is worth tough.  I had to want something bad enough, and I had to see process up close & personal to begin to get it.  "Anything worth doing is worth doing poorly" is the bottom rung of process.

Process is not something you can teach, but it is something you can learn.  Process is not the part we hear about. Product is up on the marquee, but process is the blood, sweat & tears that put your name up there.

The problem is, I never fantasized about the process; I fantasized about opening night:  What will I wear?  How will I do my hair?  Who will come?  What will the reviews be like?  

I never had the fantasy of sitting at my desk writing.  I never thought, "Hmm... my chair will be green & the light in the room will be warm & the music I put on when I'm writing will be Miles Davis."


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Process is intangible & unteachable.  It happens all by itself, but you have to start somewhere.  It's sort of like the Magic Eye, those 3-dimensional art games that have me frustrated from the minute someone whips one out.  I am sitting there, trying so hard to "get it" without working at it.  Or I am working too hard, without the letting go.  Process is about balance.

Process doesn't have to come from some high-minded, God-inspired epiphany.  It can come from as simple a place as I want to do this.  It can come from as low as the ego crying for its long overdue due.


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Credits:
objectplastic.com
123rf.com
stereogum.com
wordharbinger.com 

   

Onward & upward - my first coaching session

For all that has been, Thanks. To all that shall be, Yes.


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This time yesterday, I was curled up on the living room couch, writing in my journal (thanks, Kim!), having a cuppa, Max on my left, Rennie on my right, Sky curled up on my lap.  Taking my intentional ease as I cleared my mental & emotional decks, in prep for my first coaching session with Jane Kerschner.  

There are few times in my life that extremely high expectations were more than  met, where they soared to much more.  My first visit to The Dutch Inn & meeting its owner, the unforgettable Ned Hills.  My first visit to The Robert Morris Inn, tucked alongside the Tred Avon in Oxford, MD.  My first trip to England, first sight of Oxford.  


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Rare moments when the reality fully realized every expectation, then some.

Yesterday, experiencing my first session with Jane.  Add that to my list.

Have never seen how having a coaching session via phone - or Google Hangout, to which we'll shift as soon as I'm able - could do a lick of good, but from the moment it hit me that Jane (who's based a considerable trek down I-95, in Chevy Chase, MD) could give me the just-right support I need, it's all seemed as right as rain.  And it was!  From my first out-of-the-blue AH HA! that Jane is THE coach for me to yesterday's sign off, it all flowed.

My thanks to Jane for a priceless moment in time that soared beyond my highest expectations.   Onward & upward!



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Credits:
coop.iup.edu
ecschool.com.mt
kalculture.com














For all that has been, Thanks. To all that shall be, Yes.

Friday, February 19, 2016

Connection & the lovely irony

originally posted on older2elder...


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Been thinking about my lonnnnnnng time love of paper chains, rooted back in elementary school, when a homeroom teacher moved our desks into a circle & we made yards & yards & yards of green & red chains which miraculously transformed one morning into a huge Christmas tree, a line of chains coming down from a high-up-there ceiling beam, secured on the floor to the right of each desk.  Still remember is wildly cool!  Have loved paper chains - and their possibilities ever since.

Now, some people get really complicated with their chain, making them things of dazzling beauty & ingenuity, but give me that classic simple 1" strip pasted (oh, memories of the taste of the old-fashioned pasty school glue!), taped or even stapled variety!  

I think of the healing chain with quotes & "You go, girl!" words of encouragement that followed Mom in those last, awesome years, traveling from Holy Redeemer to Elkins Park, from Inova/Alexandria to St. Mary's & finally to her snug bedroom at the end for the 2nd floor hall.  How I wish it hadn't finally fallen to tatters after many a put up & take down & put up again.  

That brightly colored chain, teamed with enlargements of SARK's artword, put pizzazz into even the then-grey grey grey rooms at Elkins Park Hospital (now vastly improved, but so awful back in the day it inspired the snappy pictures & chain). 

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Just yesterday, I connected two young women who are special to me, one living out West, the other about 7 minutes from our house.  They just called out to be tagged up & am happy I did.  Good things will flow for the world!

There are few things in this world that I enjoy more than a good connection, whether I'm observing it, am part of it, or instigated.  I've written about it before & will again.  Connection, relationship, partnership, relationship of every sort & stripe, LOVE.  Just writing those words down gets me giddy.

When your heart overflows with the beauty of a concept, difficult & dicey life circumstances don't matter.  This over-the-top connector came from a family that shied away from connection, that seemed most at east with the assurance of disconnection.  And there I was, at its tag end, as determined a connector as any train coupler!


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That fierce love of connection helped get me through a funky early life, helped me bond with scores of authors & other mentors who - oblivious of their role in keeping me steady enough, long enough to get to John - wrote heart-healing, soul-strengthening books & articles, recorded spot-on cassettes & cds, presented illuminating PBS specials & YouTube presentations. Through my connection with them, it was possible to develop & nurture a healthy connection with my self.

That love of connection is what drew out my inner Life Expansionist, riles up the Elder Care Anarchist.  Am personally offended seeing so much disconnection around me.  We are born to be in relationship, from first breath to last.  

There are a slew of reasons why our current elder care culture is so gosh darn abysmal here in the USA.  Most of those reasons are not going to change, some are on track to get considerably worse. So, how do we take what we have, what's out there, whatever is to come, and forge those materials into a better, stronger, more beautiful chain connecting us all?  Now, THERE is a true north purpose. 

I hear friends & pleasant acquaintances, colleagues & utter strangers, gripe & moan about the problems they're having with this person or that, the difficulties they face with family or at work, in their church or schools, with buddies or adult bullies.  Often, they are stymied & stopped by such difficulties.  

Here's a lovely irony I knew forever, but was underscored & highlighted over the past 27 years - all the wretchedness, the difficulties, the regrettable circumstances & sticky situations contain vital lessons, as well as opportunities for some sort of renewed relationship, connection.  Maybe not with the person you hoped, maybe not in the way you desired, but it's there.  

Life is a link of forged chains, each strip its own color, each important in its own way, each there to help us find our true north purpose or lead us deeper into that.


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That might sound too Pollyannish for many, but it's the truth.  My life is a great example.  Being SO different from dominant family members - polar opposites - who seemed inescapable, it would have been easy to get emotionally mangled, even crushed.  But for whatever gloriously fluky reason, the moments with them, the experiences we shared, the histories we have in common, became binding strips in my chain of life.  

What delicious irony, being born into a family of connection distrusters - got to experience & learn from a lot of dark experiences without having to go through them myself.  For that - and so much more - they have my deepest thanks.  They added texture & depth to my chain.  

At this point in time, am gobsmacked at how my life has taken on something akin to those desks in that ancient elementary school class room.  We walked in one morning & discovered some unseen hand had changed them from row by row, with walking space in between, to a touching-each-other circle.  Some unseen hand is constantly at work in our lives, doing what it can to get us touching, then anchoring our life chains to where we are, creating beauty & wonder out of simple stuff & wondering hearts.    


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Credits:
whileyouwereaway.org 
evolvingperspective.com
en.wikipedia.org 
colour101.wordpress.com
olderandwiser.com 




Tuesday, February 16, 2016

the adventure continues

originally posted on Secrets of the Home....


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Not as in "and now the adventure continues" or "once again, the adventure continues" - no how, no way.  As in "it's ALL an adventure, from first whatever to last."  

I say "whatever," because who knows when the jostling & joy begins - my guess is from the moment of conception, because what could be a more awesome part of our forever adventure than all that happens getting to, staying in, and moving out of the womb?"  Seriously - what a WILD beginning to all that follows!

Have taken the plunge writing a book ~ Badass Grandma ~  inspired by & about my mother, Katharine Reynolds Lockhart.  Tackling the first bit had me struggling to describe just what I mean by badass & why, in my mind & heart, Mom epitomized one.  

First heard the term used as praise by Brene Brown in Rising Strong.  That made me notice Jen Sincero's You Are A Badass, which took me deeper into appreciating how Mom nailed it.  Especially at the end, but with glimmers & outbursts throughout her life - the little girl who rescued a peach sapling that was headed for the trash bin, in spite of adults insisting, "Kay, it will die" - was a total badass.  


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Am not meandering away from my topic as woefully as you might think.  Writing the opening, went back to a 12/29/15 posting on my Dream Reweaver blog, about my first response to Jen's book (subtitled How To Stop Doubting Your Greatness and Start Living an Awesome Life), which lead me to a quote from her that totally shouts YES! to me, right here & right now:

We are so unbelievably blessed 
to have all the things we have, 
all the opportunities and ideas 
and people and tasks and interests 
and experiences and responsibilities.


Amen, sister!

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I was talking with my oldest brother on Valentine's Day.  He'd had a visit earlier from his daughter & her family - beloveds who'd lived in Australia for the past 3+ years & he hadn't seen or regularly Skyped over all that time.  He should have still been on a legal high, having just seen his adored daughter, her terrific husband, her daughters.  Instead, he sounded disheartened, busily kicking himself for not getting them different Christmas presents than he had so carefully purchased.  

Knowing my properly raised niece, I doubt she showed any displeasure with the gifts; knowing her apples don't fall far from the maternal tree, am sure the girls didn't either.  But there was Peter, focused on what he felt he did wrong instead of babbling about the joy of seeing them all.  

According to the online Urban Dictionary, the opposite of badass is douchebag.  Sad, but true - that fits how I felt about my brother, hearing him beat himself up instead of radiating rainbows of happiness.  


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Was shaken with momentary sadness. the sense he's missing the adventure, which brought home to me - hard fast true - what a waste it is for us to waste so much of a single moment in regret.  Fra Giovanni totally aced it, writing, "The gloom of the world is but a shadow; behind it, yet within our reach is joy. Take Joy!"  

By nature & personal nurture, I am a bright & sunny soul.  No matter how bleak things might get, I know that low moments happen for a higher cause, that every moment - no matter how glorious or gory it might feel - invariably leads us to a deeper connection to our own soul, to a stronger connection with the Divine.  

Am forever grateful to my older siblings for all  the sadness & even darkness they've shown that I might have never vicariously experienced.  


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Ian's death at 11 drove home that life's fragile, that it can never be taken for granted - a boy went out to play & never come home.  Am grateful Ian died adventuring, being with a friend, basking in the fun of making his beloved model airplanes.

My sister couldn't see life as an adventure - as described by a super close friend after her memorial tribute, Mim was terrified of everything.  When everything about it terrifies you, there's no opening up to life as adventure.  

And Peter - he got a call from his baby sister on the very day he'd finally seen his adored daughter & her family and all he could talk about was how it felt like he'd messed up on presents.  Peter - YOU were their best present!  No sense of adventure.

But there's still time for my brother to shake himself out of deficiency thinking & embrace the adventure.  It's in his bones.  His mother was a badass, his father most certainly was (he had to be to start his own business & succeed).  His brother, Mike, is a Down Under badass.  And I like to think his baby sister is following in our Mom's footsteps!  


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The adventure continues, am moving with it.  Found myself a guide, setting my current itinerary for the next destination, willing to learn how to better stock provisions ~ trim my sails ~ navigate a true north course.  Then let go & let the adventure unfold, always remembering to take joy in my moments!


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Credits:
openclipart.org 
valentineweek-2016.com
pngimg.com
thegratitudehouse.org
stylepinner.com
sarahherrin.com
demilked.com

Friday, February 12, 2016

Child of the sixties


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Oh, the joy of being older!  Over the past few years - starting sometime after 60 - can see things that were once super sensitive with interest, often bemusement, rather than spirit-twisting mega emotional investment.

Will be forever grateful for my family, my community.  One of the many things learned by my experiences with both is that being different doesn't equal being wrong.  And that family & community are what WE define them as being, rather than anything set in stone.  

Growing up, being so different from what felt like the norm could be daunting.  The community seemed structured, clannish & cliquish - neither my nature nor my nurture.  And my family might as well have come from another solar system, the differences were so profound.  

As I grow deeper into my sixties - turned 64 a few days ago - am increasingly aware of the advantages, on all sides, to those differences.  It's not that my family & community have become more in sync with me, as that I've gotten comfier letting my image of both be open, become less "sure" that how I've viewed them through the ages has the slightest semblance to reality.  


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Over the past years, have become more willing to let go of comforting but confining labels & reassuring (even if totally off base) expectations.  I know the way my family, my community once came across to me, but that doesn't mean it's still that way.  Youch confession - it doesn't mean it was EVER that way.  

There are great things in store for crafting astonishing connections to & within my community, my family. Can't happen - not a bit of it - if I hold onto old images.  

Christ warned about storing new wine in old casks, or skins.  My limited & limiting concepts of community & family are OLD; what calls to be done is NEW.  If I try bringing fresh ideas to old images of family & community, it's going to be a bust.  

It's hard to describe, the way it feels to let things be, rather than making them into something that makes sense to ME.  As a child of the '60s, I never hooked onto that psychedelic reality. As a child of the sixties, it's all come together.  Lovin' getting older!


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Credits:
mwp4.me 
codepoetics.com
youtube.com