There's a "Yewt" Trapped Inside Me

"In reality, people are people. Age does a weird thing to your body on the outside. It makes your face fall and weird things happen all over. But inside, you're the same person you always were, you're still 25." ~Actress Sally Field

You who are my age or around my age (give or take +/- 5 years), you know what this quote means. You get to a point where you may feel like you can hang out with/relate to people half your age, thinking that you're still that age, too. Your brain hasn't changed. You sort of look like that person from 20+ years ago, and sometimes, you look better (awkward school photos, anyone?). 

But I swear that time passes so fast, that it's hard to come to grips that we actually have aged. That we have mortgages. That we have jobs. That we file taxes. That we may have health issues, sometimes, very serious health issues. That some of us are no longer here. 

But inside, I still feel like I'm 25. And that is hard to come to grips with, hard to wrap my head around when on the outside, when I dare look in the mirror, I think, "Wait...what happened here?"

Time. That's what happened here. 

And so, I leave you with this...a small, but SIGNIFICANT part of our past, one of my favorite artists, and one kick-ass song.

Prince

On Everything Happening for a Reason, Details magazine, 1991: "There are no accidents. And if there are, it's up to us to look at them as something else. And that bravery is what creates new flowers."

Prince died today. One of my most beloved icons and one who profoundly influenced my taste in music is no longer of the earth.

I remember hearing about his concerts when I was in junior high/high school, how he performed...hmmm...self-gratifying sexual acts on stage. Needless to say, I wasn't allowed to see him in concert, but I sure could listen to his music, and it was fantastic.

His death affects me like Michael Jackson's, Alan Rickman's, David Bowie's, and Robin Williams'.

Prince was a beautiful man. No matter what your perceptions are of him or his music, he was a beautiful-looking man: sexy eyes, great smile, and mile-high cheekbones. 

There's not a lot to know about him because he was ultimately very private, and understandably so. Growing up, and even now, hearing his music made me feel alive and electric, happy, and free. And even his ballads, even what he wrote about with his lyrics, it was all beautifully sad and insightful. 

Then there was that aura he carried with him. He was untouchable, really. A true legend. And I am so glad that he came onto the scene when I was growing up. What a fantastic time to be the age I was when his music hit the charts.

I'm sad today. Maybe this is what starts happening as we get older. People die. And not just celebrities, musicians, and artists who have helped define some fucking great moments in our lives, but people in our family, friends, even acquaintances die.

I'll take denial. If it keeps me from feeling this sad, I'll take it. Aging sucks. The alternative isn't great, but aging still sucks. And today...Prince died.

Prince...truly singing (not lip synching) at Super Bowl XLI...fantastic performance, even with his Purple Rain (phalic) guitar...one of the best halftime performances ever. 

Divorce = Damaged Goods?

I don't think divorce is ever the answer. Ever. Short of being so domestically and/or verbally abusive, especially with children, where lives are at stake, and after seeking all viable help with no change in the living situation, sometimes, maybe divorce is the answer.

Lonnie and I are both so completely fortunate in that neither of us comes from divorce. His parents were blessed to have been married 50+ years, mine have been blessed to be closing in on their 50th in a couple of years.

But recently, a younger friend of mine mentioned that if someone in their 20s is already divorced, that there are already a ton of issues there, that that's usually an indication of abuse, infidelity, lack of maturity, or other trust issues. The friend mentioned that it's a sign of problems that someone who has been divorced will bring into their next relationship.

That bothered me. 

A long time ago, while in college, a friend of mine, someone I adored and admired and respected, insisted that I needed to tell a gay family member, whom I'll call Pat that Pat's "ways" were wrong, that it was my responsibility as a Christian to change Pat, to ensure that Pat would make it back to "straight-hood". At the time, it was the second family member I knew to be gay.

I'll never forget that phone call. I was at the station, my first ever gig in radio, and she and I were talking about Pat. I casually mentioned it because of something she'd said, and that's how it all started. And it ended with me in tears, hanging up the phone, and ending my friendship with her.

I've been conflicted about organized religion for forever, since I can remember going to Sunday school. I hate its rigidity and how closed off it is. I do wonder, for example, why God only consulted men in writing the Bible. When I think of Jesus, the Earthly man, I think of a kind, loving, all-accepting prophet. He opened his heart to everyone. EVERYONE. He opened his heart to people who didn't believe him and/or didn't believe IN him.

While I don't worship the pope as many do (he's just a fellow human being, after all), he recently took in six more Syrian refugee families who were in Greece. He brought them back with him to the Vatican where their expenses and care will be provided. They are Muslim. I respect him so much more for those kinds of acts.

So what in the heck does this have to do with the divorce at the beginning of this post, you ask? Well, it goes to that black-and-white thinking. Yes, we all have convictions, religious and otherwise, and some of us waver while others remain steadfast and still others as immobile as the statues on Easter Island. 

But there is so.much.grey in the world. 

Why must someone be "damaged goods" if they have been divorced, young or not? And why assume that someone who has been divorced will carry those issues into their next relationship? That person, along with anyone else, has the right to change. It doesn't mean they will, but they can. And they might.

My point is this: if Jesus could accept others as they were, accept and love them, forgive them, and not in a patronizing, condescending way, but sincere and genuine forgiveness of their past, why can't Christians do the same?

Religious Murder

Although I truly didn't have time to write tonight (had to bring work home with me...woohoo), I read an article on my phone right before I was set to unpack my work laptop and could not pass up writing about this, even though it's not going to be my best writing ever.

Apparently, the Bible has made the American Library's annual list of Top 10 "challenged" books. It's part of some bigger, overall report on Libraries. In the article, it states that even though there are challenges made about the Quran being in public libraries, there are far more challenges made about the Bible sitting on the shelves.

There's something wrong with this country and this world. While I'm not always in agreement with everything the Bible says (that's for another blog some other day--I'll digress a second--if Jesus spoke directly to those who wrote the Bible, isn't it a bit odd that He didn't speak to any women? I'm just sayin'...), I wholeheartedly believe in our first amendment:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

Of course, many have interpreted those words over the years and will continue to, but with the exception of one thing in the Constitution, I fully support its content, and that includes the right to exercise my religion of choice.

Back to the Bible being on the top 10 list...I've been thinking about how I keep reading about all of these Christians who are being murdered. Yes, murdered. Not persecuted. That sounds "prettier" than murdered. Maybe it's just because I love language, but persecution just has a prettier sound to it than murder. So, yes, the word "murder" fits quite nicely. 

What is happening in the world that Christians everywhere are being murdered for their religion? And why isn't it being reported on more? After a quick search on the Internet just now, I found two articles of not very many from what I consider less subjective sources. "The Guardian" has an article from last year about the pope warning that this has become a form of genocide. "The World Tribune" published a story toward the end of 2015 about the millions of Christians being murdered worldwide.

Here's the thing: no one wants to call Muslims terrorist or the religion anything beyond peaceful, but quite frankly, other than a couple of homegrown nutballs (Unabomber, Timothy McVeigh) here in our country, we don't have terrorists. That we, the general public, know of. Yet.

What terrorists do you know of that haven't been from Middle Eastern descent? Why are most, if not all, terrorist groups acting in the name of the Islamic religion? Where does it stop? Why won't Muslims, of any part of the world, denounce the acts of these terrorists? It sickens me, scares me, and unfortunately, shapes my thoughts about others. It also helps me understand why people sacrifice their lives for their beliefs. But those who sacrifice themselves for their religious beliefs (martyrs, for example) are different from those who kill others because of their religious "beliefs". 

That's a huge difference, especially for such a "peaceful" religion.

I think the public libraries could use a LOT more Bibles. 

Weight of the World

Every time Lonnie and I get frustrated with living here...with all these people (not YOU, of course)...with all this traffic...or with work, or anything or anyone else...one of us will say to the other, "House in the mountains. House in the mountains." It's become a mantra of ours ever since we visited a cabin in the mountains not far outside Steamboat Springs, CO. Some friends of my parents own the cabin, and it's so quaint and majestic, that ever since, "house in the mountains" has had a calming, and a bit of a whimsical effect on us. Don't get me wrong about this cabin: it's not glamorous by any stretch. It's a cabin. It does have a tiny kitchen, bathrooms, bedrooms, etc. But it is not glamorous. It's maybe one step up from camping.

I think it has two bedrooms with a river running below it. And when I say below it, I mean, literally, the river is in it's backyard, that's how close it is to the river. Luckily, we visited in the spring/summertime, and so it was awesome to hear the water rushing over the boulders and washing by. That sound is so soothing, much like waves at the beach are.

What I also love about it is one of the stories behind it. Over time, the man who built it picked up these different river rocks (I can't remember exactly how the story goes) to build the fireplace and chimney by hand. You see the river rocks on the outside and inside of the house. And it is definitely the best feature about the house itself. It's a two-story cabin, and when you reach the second floor, you automatically feel taller because the ceilings are so low, so you also feel cozy and warm and welcome. If I lived there long-term, though, I'd do something about the ceiling because it can probably start to feel as if it's closing in on you after a while.

It's a good-sized cabin, too, but I now know why people choose to live in "tiny houses". It's the outdoors, being one with nature, that is so peaceful and relaxing. The cabin is merely there for shelter. There were a couple of other cabins there, too, and I'm sure the reason people go there is to escape the pressures and daily monotony, to relax, renew, and refresh. At least that's why I would go there.

I envision leaving the windows open in the summertime, falling asleep to the sound of the river and trees' leaves rustling on their branches or swishing with a slight breeze.

On days like today, when it seems like all these pressures are so important, the thought of that cabin in Colorado is a great mental escape if I can't be there in person.

House in the mountains.

"Spotlight"

It's with a heavy heart that I write this. Having just watched "Spotlight" and having watched previous documentaries about Catholic priests abusing children, I don't know how anyone can remain Catholic without demanding change. I like the Catholic church. I was raised Catholic, and I still like much of the ceremony and tradition it promotes. It's what I know.

At the heart of the Catholic church is money, greed, posturing, and treatment of the Pope as if he is God himself. I know, I know, how dare I say anything about Pope Francis, the "People's Pope", if you will. But he has done nothing. He has spoken great words of concern about the issue, sure, and set up a committee or something, but he has done nothing. Not really.

How is it that we are appalled when a child is abused in any other situation but we turn away from the systemic situation of child molestation by Catholic priests and others in the Catholic hierarchy? How could we let this happen to children? To their lives, to their families, to their futures?

Watch any documentary on Marcial Maciel. If that doesn't convince you, read even one of the famous 14 documents mentioned in "Spotlight". The abuse has gone on for decades, and worse, the Catholic church has covered it up, continues to stall, and cover it up even more. 

I don't understand a world or a faith or a denomination that allows this to continue, and I don't understand an entity like the Catholic church - projecting faith, love, kindness, generosity, charity - while covering up and continuing to stand idly by, hiding behind that very ceremony and tradition I love under endless layers of secrets, lies, manipulation, and money.

Why isn't there more outrage? Why do people continue to fall in love with the Pope and the Catholic church when they continue to prey on children?

To fall back on an overused "slogan", "What would Jesus do?" Would Jesus really want this to be swept under the rug? Would Jesus want an earthly "spokesperson" (aka, the pope) to NOT do something?

What is the Catholic church so afraid of?

The victims who are adults were once children. There are still children being abused by priests. One of them could be yours.

Freedom

"We inherit our freedom, but now is the time to fight for it." ~"Red Dawn" (2012)

This week, a couple of news stories depressed me a wee bit about the state of our United States.

Merriam-Webster defines patriotism as "love for or devotion to one's country." 

Some of America's citizens now shun even children's patriotic ideas. (See "Administrators reverse ban on American celebration at Fort Collins, CO, high school") What kind of a country has America become where the idea of celebrating being an American IN AMERICA will offend others who live here but may be from another country? 

And why would Coca Cola pick "America the Beautiful" to be sung in so many different languages? (Search for "America the Beautiful coke ad") I understand showing all kinds of images of our diverse population with a very American song such as "America the Beautiful" being sung in ENGLISH. What makes my blood boil is how Coke's ad actually causes divisiveness. What's even worse is that Coke, projecting an image of being for immigration, is sadly exploiting the topic of immigration to expand their market and make more money. It is about the bottom line for that very American company.

Even though my blood boils over with anger at these two news stories from this week, I'm tired of being so angry at the anti-patriotic sentiment. I don't think I even have much left to feel disgusted.

My feeling is sadness. Pure sadness. So, as soon as my supply of diet Coke runs out, I will no longer purchase anything from that company. I needed to cut back anyway.

Or maybe, after having a flag pole put into our front lawn, I'll watch Lonnie raise the United States of America's flag every morning. Over a bullhorn, we will say the "Pledge of Allegiance", too. And like Lloyd Dobler from "Say Anything", I'll hook up a "jam box" so large that the entire subdivision will hear "America the Beautiful" blaring out IN ENGLISH every morning. I'll be quenching my thirst with water, hot chocolate, diet Pepsi, or even mud. Anything would be better than a Coke.

O Christmas Tree

There is something so peaceful about a Christmas tree. This year, we put smaller one in our bedroom, decorated it with some small, glass ornaments that we can't put on the main Christmas tree (one word: cats), and topped it with an angel.

I think we've created a new tradition. Every night since Lonnie set it up in our bedroom, we've turned the lights on, and even now, as I write this, I look at it and am instantly calmed. A Christmas tree really is a beautiful thing. And it represents so much more than the lights, the branches, or even the memories that adorn it in the forms of all kinds of dangling ornaments.

So, I decided to renew my (forgotten) knowledge of the history of the Christmas tree on history.com and this paragraph stood out:

Germany is credited with starting the Christmas tree tradition as we now know it in the 16th century when devout Christians brought decorated trees into their homes. Some built Christmas pyramids of wood and decorated them with evergreens and candles if wood was scarce. It is a widely held belief that Martin Luther, the 16th-century Protestant reformer, first added lighted candles to a tree. Walking toward his home one winter evening, composing a sermon, he was awed by the brilliance of stars twinkling amidst evergreens. To recapture the scene for his family, he erected a tree in the main room and wired its branches with lighted candles.

 I never knew (probably forgot) that the Christmas tree tradition began in Germany. Americans actually thought the trees were odd. The first record of one being on display was in the 1830s by the German settlers of Pennsylvania. I love all kinds of Christmas trees, and I tend to think most are beautiful in their own way. If children decorate a tree, it's beautiful because children decorated it. If there are popcorn-cranberry strands of garland, I think that's also beautiful in an old-fashioned way. On our main tree, I still hang ornaments that I made from when I was in elementary school. Two of them are covered in tin foil. (Lonnie promised me he'll get his childhood ornaments at my father-in-law's house this year.)

Big, small, flocked, or green, fat, skinny, all white lights, colored lights, blinking or still lights...a Christmas tree is a flood of happiness and peace. It's a beautiful night light, too.

Merry Christmas!

Dog Barking

Tonight, after finishing dinner, we watched a show. After a few minutes, I stood up and used the back of one of our chairs to hold steady while doing some of my physical therapy exercises. Nagini, our black lab mix (with some Great Dane in him, too) started growling like we've never heard from him before.

He growled at one of our menacing living room windows. By this point, it was already dark outside, too. And we all know it's a fact that the scariest times happen at night. He started ferociously barking, we hope to protect us from whatever imaginary threat he thought he saw through or reflected from the window. I looked out into the back yard, cupping my hands around my eyes to better see anything he might find threatening. I looked once, twice, nothing.

There was an extension cord wrapped and sitting on the window sill. Perhaps Nagini thought the tan snake was coiling, preparing to strike him at a moment's notice. To show him how tame the extension cord was, I picked it up and dropped it on the floor. His big-bad-dog barking continued.

It might've been the reflection he saw of Lonnie and me in the window itself. I raised the blinds thinking that might calm him. No matter how many times I looked, each time finding nothing but our back yard right where it was supposed to be, he continued to bark.

I didn't think of this at the time, but maybe he was seeing a spirit. It is Halloween Eve, not that that's the time they all come out, especially to be peeking in our windows. Still...creepy. And now I will find some way to go to sleep while my wild imagination works toward a goal of no sleep for me at all, mulling over what could be lurking in our back yard. The stories in my mind are endless. My mind is like a bad neighborhood...you don't go in there alone.

*tingling and shivering*

Learning to Walk Again

Today's surprises all had to do with my knee, the one I injured resulting in surgery. I found out at physical therapy that they would unlock my brace so that I don't have to keep my leg locked out straight at extension. I've been walking around with a peg-leg. All that's missing is the parrot and the eye patch. Today, though, unlocking the brace so that I can bend my knee while in it was a little scary. I hadn't really put much pressure on that leg since July 30. So hearing that I would be walking through on that leg, even if slowly, freaked me out a bit.

My physical therapist, who's awesome, literally showed me how to walk again. I've been walking for almost 44 years. I think I have the hang of it. Or do I? It was an unsteady feeling to begin walking, even slowly, on my gimpy leg. I'm getting the hang of it, but it's harder than it seems after an injury and surgery like what I've been through.

I even went grocery shopping all by myself and drove for the first time since the surgery today. The driving itself was so freeing, but being able to walk left me giddy with delight.

To top it off, I no longer have to sleep with the freakin' leg brace. WHOOOOOOOOOOP!

I'm far more appreciative now of my capabilities and have an even deeper respect for those who are limited physically or mentally.

It reminds me of that quote: "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting their own battles."

Tonight's "cross-country" adventure

Lonnie and I had an errand to run earlier this evening. It was more of a frustrating/eventually comical 20-minute trip in "the 'burbs".

1. Someone almost rear-ended us in the CVS parking lot as we backed out of the spot.
2. Lonnie wanted to go through Taco Bell and get something to eat. Right before the girl (and I do mean GIRL) handed the bag of food to us, she and a fellow employee were having a "discussion" (a.k.a., argument). The fellow employee walked away, and we're waiting in the car.Still.Waiting. We had the food but no drink. Finally, I check the bag to make sure all of the order was there, and I asked Lonnie, "What're we waiting on other than your drink?" Finally, I leaned over Lonnie and said, "Hello!! Hellooooooo!" to the girl (did I mention GIRL?) who was standing right there at the window. She FINALLY heard me and said, "Yes?" I said, "We're waiting on our drink." She grabbed the drink, said, "Oh, I'm sorry" and handed it to Lonnie. I asked her, "Why did it take so long to get a drink?" And she said something about listening to the next person's order (this is how heard it, though, "blah blah blah") and apologized again saying she forgot. Lonnie said, "Well, if you hadn't been having that little 'pow-wow' with your co-worker, you might have realized we still didn't have our order." More apologies. I said, "Who is your manager?" WAIT.FOR.IT. "I'm the manager" she said. *rolling my eyes*
3. We drove to a different place (because I wanted plain tortillas since my stomach is kind of messed up, and let's face it, Taco Bell's tortillas are merely vehicles to put food in. Their tortillas aren't to be eaten all by themselves 'cause they aren't stars, but more like cameos in the Taco Bell fast food movie...wow, that was a stretch, even for me, but you get the picture). When we got to "almost-star-quality tortillas" establishment, Lonnie placed the order after hearing the woman ask through the tall metal speaker box, "May I take your order?" Next thing, a man's voice (apparently, someone's performing sex changes in nanoseconds these days) said, "Can you say it again?" Lonnie, frustrated with previous ordeals of this little adventure, said, "Are you gonna pay attention this time?" and placed his order. Once again *poof--sex change* the woman repeated the order back and told us to drive to the window. When I asked what the deal was, she stated that the first voice we heard was a recording, that they have to greet the customer within the first three seconds of arriving at the drive-thru. THAT I believe; however, you can usually tell a)that those are recordings and b)they don't match anyone else's voice who works at the place, and c)the "electronic recorded greeting"'s voice was the exact same as the woman at the end of the exchange. I'd rather wait and have them actually listen to my order ONCE than have someone ask me to repeat it.
4. Finally, there was a VERY aggressive driver in some little sedan (BMW, Honda, Kia, who knows?) who pretty much almost took off the end of our car (different from the CVS driver) while zigzagging between the car in the left lane a little behind us and us in the right lane. He risked all of that just to get 10 feet in front of us right before the light to turn right. Wow. That saved a LOT of time for him. I think I may have blinked once during that, so it was worth it, right, to save a "blink's worth" of time?

I'm tired now. I'm going to bed.
As a friend of mine would say, "I don't have time for all this foolishness!"
-a-

Kenny Chesney's "Old Blue Chair"

I'm pretty sure I've written about Kenny Chesney before, but that man inspires me with his music and lyrics. He doesn't write all of his material, but probably writes about 50-60% or co-writes/collaborates.

I LOVE "Old Blue Chair" because it makes me feel like I'm right there, sitting in it, with my toes scrunching up the sand, breeze blowing, and just BEING, breathing, and soaking it all in.

Old Blue Chair lyrics
Songwriters: Chesney, Kenneth Arnold;
There's a blue rocking chair, sittin' in the sand
Weathered by the storms and well oiled hands
It sways back and forth with the help of the winds
It seems to always be there like an old trusted friend

I've read a lot of books, wrote a few songs
Looked at my life, where it's goin', where it's gone
I've seen the world through a bus windshield
But nothing compares to the way that I see it
To the way that I see it, to the way that I see it
When I sit in that old blue chair

From that chair I've caught a few fish and some rays
And I've watched boats sail in and out of Cinnamon Bay
I let go of a lover that took a piece of my heart
Prayed many times for forgiveness and a brand new start

I've read a lot of books, wrote a few songs
Looked at my life, where it's goin', where it's gone
I've seen the world through a bus windshield
But nothing compares to the way that I see it
To the way that I see it, to the way that I see it
When I sit in that old blue chair

That chair was my bed one New Year's night
When I passed out from too much Malibu and Diet
And I woke up to a hundred mosquito bites, I swear
Got 'em all sittin' right there in that old blue chair

There's a blue rocking chair, sitting in the sand
Weathered by the storms and well oiled hands

Kenny Chesney Summer in 3D

Today, Lonnie and I saw Kenny Chesney Summer in 3D, and it was truly awesome.  The only thing missing, as I told Lonnie later, was the outdoors, the water, the sunshine, and maybe a boat or two with a beach thrown in there, with my toes wriggling around in the sand.

I won't give away any spoilers in case you want to see it, but he really is such a humble person who gives his fans infinite energy and entertainment in all of his performances.  As corny as this may sound, his music really speaks to me, the lyrics, the music, the way he sings, and the mood/feelings his songs evoke in me.

This movie concert was more than just his music, more than just 3D.  It was a small look into his life, how he grew up, and where his motivation and feelings come from with each song he sings.

His family and friends are phenomenal, too, and he's tried to keep them all together through this great ride of his career, his life.

I'm inspired to achieve greatness, to get creative, to live my dreams every time I hear his music and/or see him perform, read about him, see his band play.

Great music SHOULD always INSPIRE.ALWAYS.

Kenny Chesney succeeds in doing this for me every time.

Today

Today's a good day.  In spite of everything that's happened in the last 48 hours (not work related) and especially this morning (work-related), I'm having a pretty good day.  I can't complain, and I'm grateful for another day without resorting to unhealthy behaviors (so far).


Life is actually getting better.  I guess that's because I AM getting better, even if I have to measure it in small increments of time (minutes or hours), it adds up eventually.

"When I'm Not Chasin' Demons, There's Demons Chasin' Me" ~Kenny Chesney

Last night, I decided finally, FINALLY to let go.  I hope I can stick with that decision, realizing that there are people, places, and things that just aren't in my best interest, that need to be "given away".
Letting go is hard for me, it always has been.  It's something I've been working on recently with my therapist.  Yep, I'm in therapy.  Some of you already knew that.  I'm grateful that even though she and I both know it's in my best interest to let go, at least when I haven't been able to, she doesn't judge me.  Instead, she and I have worked really hard to find out what's at the root of it for me.  Up until last week, we still weren't sure what was at the root of some of my "acting out", but I think we've discovered major pieces of the puzzle in the last few weeks, a major one we uncovered last week.
I've reluctantly concluded that by not letting go, I hurt others, but mainly, I hurt myself the most.  It keeps me from moving forward.  And I'm tired of all of this, tired of not actually "going through the shit" as my parents and a family friend says and then getting to actually live my life.
I think I deserve to be happy.  Or at least there's this hope that I think I deserve to be happy.  Someone used to tell me, "Breathe in God, breathe out fear."  I think that's a pretty profound statement no matter what you believe religiously or spiritually.  After all, I've remembered it for more than 10 years, and I can barely remember how I got here this morning.  :)
I'm tired of chasing demons or having them chasing me.  It's time to live the life I was meant to live.  I'm not even sure what that means, but as I stated before, I'm hopeful it includes happiness, joy, and freedom from these demons of mine.
For those of you who know what I've been through, even just since the Fall, and why, I cannot thank you enough for your love and support.  I have the best family and friends in the entire world.


*hugs*
Ang

Physical Pain

There's this saying that Buddha has about living in the present, not dwelling on the past or dreaming of the future.

When I'm in physical pain, I really can't do much of either.  Then I thought, "What if I were in physical pain all the time?  That would certainly force me to live in the present more instead of ruminating about the past and having all the emotions that go with that and worry about the future, and all the emotions that go along with THAT."

I'd still rather be physically healthy all the time and work on how to live in the here and now, in the present, enjoying the present, living in the moment instead of being in physical pain to do so.

And in thinking about that, I'm grateful that even though I'm in physical pain today, I don't have it every day.  I'm grateful because I know people, personally and in general, who DO experience physical pain on a daily even hourly basis.

Today, I'm ok with just "being in the physical pain" because I know it will pass.
A

Does letting go promise relief from your obsessions and demons?

The obsession to pressure other people to see things our way keeps us agitated instead of seeing that every person's view has validity, at least to that person. Letting go promises relief from the obsessions that troubles each of us.

We've tried to force solutions that didn't fit, driven ourselves crazy trying to control others certain our way was right. Our past sometimes may appear to be a series of failures. But our present experience can be peaceful, hopeful, and successful if we make the decision to let go.

A Life of My Own by Karen Casey

Letting go is a decision I sometimes make many, many, MANY times a day.  Obviously, I'm not all that successful.

The Path to Recovery is Forgiveness?

"When a deep injury is done to us, we never recover until we forgive."
Alan Paton
S. African author (1903 - 1988)


I wonder if this is true.  I think I go back and forth in my own recovery (not substance/chemically-related), sort of the whole grief cycle.  It's really all about grieving what happened, what didn't happen, what we got or didn't get, who we thought someone was or we thought they'd be, losses of people, pets, places and places in time, like college days, high school days (never had to grieve h.s., though-was happy to see those days gone)...and because grief is a cycle, and there are many steps in that cycle, the forgiveness of others who have harmed me including forgiving myself seems to swap places quite often with sadness, remorse, guilt, shame, and anger.


I just hope that one day, I can get to a place where I get to the forgiveness stage faster and that it's a more consistent feeling regarding losses, people who have harmed me, and people I've harmed.


Even if others never forgive me for my transgressions, that'll be something I'll have to learn to accept.  As long as I find the way to forgiveness of myself and others, I'll be doin' ok.  :)

Buddha on Compassion

Our sorrows and wounds are healed only when we touch them with compassion.
-- Buddha

If we have no compassion for others to heal and for ourselves to heal, does that mean we have no soul, no mindfulness that everyone is flawed and deserves the chance to change, to start anew, to heal, refresh, renew his or her spirit and soul?  

Those with no compassion for fellow humans being flawed and trying to heal themselves simply means they do not have the capacity to imagine another person's journey.  Those people do not have the capability of being mindful of others' obstacles and struggles on their journey, their willingness to recover and make amends.

The very people that show no compassion for another's struggles and their willingness and actions to get better are the people that actually need the most compassion.  But they cannot give away what they lack the most in and for themselves.

A

"Dexter Morgan" (from the TV Show "Dexter") on Grief

"If the eyes are the windows to the soul, then grief is the door.  As long as it's closed, it's the barrier between knowing and not knowing.  Walk away from it, and it stays closed forever.  But open it and walk through it, and pain becomes truth."  ~Dexter from the TV show of the same name. 

I don't know who writes the interior monologue/narration for the character of Dexter, but he or she is brilliant.  I could not add anything else to that quote.

A