2013?????

It took me awhile to even think in terms of calling the year...twenty whatever...as in, this is twenty- thirteen...more on that later.  I was pretty stuck in two thousand whatever...as in, two thousand eleven, etc. At some point in two thousand twelve, I realized I had not graduated to the correct terminology   and made a conscience effort to bring myself up to date. So, I am now current, and for some reason, that seems to matter...at least with this particular issue.

So, I'm just looking at my calendar today, trying to figure out what I have to do and what I can avoid and what new and exciting excuses I can come up with to avoid the things I really don't care about.  The good news is that I'm only 4 and 1/2 months away from becoming 70 and, to my way of thinking, once I reach that age I won't have to make any excuses. I can simply say...No Thank You!  But, I'm not quite there, so I'm still struggling for the believable excuse.  I regress in the point I'm trying to make, but I'm just practicing for my 70's.

Anyway, as I mentioned earlier, it's not like I was unaware that it's 2013, I just didn't have a real grasp on the very fact that the first quarter of 2013 is almost over.  How, in the hell, did that happen?  And, you know, it's not really a 'bad thing', it simply is what it is.  Time waits for no man (or woman, presumably) but I'm beginning to totally understand how much more quickly the time seems to go for us older peeps.  My wonderful grandmother, Munna, used to tell us that time went by more quickly for older people.  I really thought that was a crock of you-know-what and just chalked it up to old age.  'Oh Mercy', as my Munna used to say, was I ever wrong on that one.

So, here I am, rambling about things that you have to be old to understand. But, that's ok because 'old' is ok. Mostly, I am just sharing my amazement that the year 2013 is well on it's way.  Whoa! What will we do with this year, y'all?  Better that we have so far, I hope.

Maybe, reaching 70, will allow me to just ramble on in my blogs and not feel like I have to make a point.  When you really get down to it, isn't the point just a celebration that we're sill alive?

Love, peace, and thank you for reading....

(Amanda Greene, from Wilmington FAVS, asked that we write something re our reaction to, and feelings about, the devastating tragedy in CT yesterday...this is my response)

My initial reaction to this tragedy was just pure grief and immediately my heart went out to the parents and families of these precious little children.  That it happened during the holiday season, on the 7th day of Hanukkah and so close to Christmas, just seems to make it all the sadder.  Once the grief was absorbed deeply into my bones, I felt a sense of anger at the unjustness of it all and my anger was directed squarely on the NRA and our congressional leaders for not doing something about the abuse and misuse of guns in our country.

When I told my husband the sad news, he said, "I just hope their deaths weren't in vain."  After thinking about his comment for some time, I came to believe that it's up to us, all of us, not to allow these deaths to be in vain.  Our nation needs to grieve together for a time and then we need to hold each of the victims in our hearts as we come together to figure out how we can do better in our country.  If we allow this tragedy to stir up all the political animosity and we make it an issue of the conservatives vs the progressives, no one gains and these deaths will become just another part of the gun statistics in America. And then, before we know, it will happen again and then again and each time the victims will have died in vain. As I made my way through this process of trying to sort it all out, I realized my anger was gone, it simply served no purpose.

Today, I am still feeling a deep sense of grief for everyone involved and a very real concern about the process it will take for these children who lived through the trauma to ever feel safe again.  I feel for the families and the pain they will endure for the rest of their lives.  I feel for the teachers who will need to go back into that school and overcome their own fears enough to help the children get past theirs.  I feel for the law enforcers who had the horrendous job of piecing it all together and identifying the tiny bodies and the counselors who had to tell the parents that their child had beed identified.  I feel for the clean up crew who will have to go into this gruesome mess and make it all go away so that it will look 'normal' again. I feel for the whole town and especially the children who, at the very least, have lost a bit of their innocence.  And, I feel for the grandmothers, not only because they lost a grandchild, but now they must live with the knowledge that there was nothing they could do to prevent the indescribable pain their own child is suffering.

 

When a tragedy of this magnitude occurs, I believe it's a wakeup call for all of us who are paying attention.  It's time to put aside the anger, the hatred, the mistrust and look at each other simply as fellow human beings who are sharing a tremendously overpowering grief. Our primary concern should be how we can best help heal our collective pain.  We can accomplish that only with kindness, love and peace. This is the least we can do and if nothing else, it could be a beginning. These 20 innocent children deserve that we honor their lives lovingly and peacefully.  I hope we can do that.

Meandering into hope and miracles...

Meandering........

My  best friend in high school just sent an e-mail updating us on the latest health crisis her husband is experiencing  in his ongoing battle with cancer. They are away from home and although the medical facilities are excellent, they are far away from their regular medical team, family and support system.  This crisis was cruel enough to occur while they were in the NC mountains, thinking they could have just a tiny little respite, a bit of a break from the chemo and radiation and all the other horrific abuses this sweet man’s body has endured.

My friend is a true Christian in the sense that she and her husband walk the walk as they talk the talk.  Politically, they are conservative, but not obnoxiously so.  They were both teachers up until retirement just a few years ago...she, in a 3rd grade classroom, and he as a football coach.

These past few years, since his cancer diagnosis,  I read her posts and my mind goes back to the days of high school when my friend lived right next door.  Her mother was a nutcase, but had a sweet heart, and her dad worked for  Coca Cola and brought us cokes by the case, which, even though I was primarily a Pepsi kinda’ girl, my allegiance was easily swayed by free cokes.  Her dad coached me in plane geometry and was the first person to recognize my dyslexia...unfortunately,  this diagnosis came after he recommended I take the class.  But, that’s a whole different meandering story.

My thinking is,  and I guess this is why I felt the need to meander here....life, itself, speaks so much more loudly, and profoundly, than politics or religion.  If we were put in the position of my friend, what would we do?  Would we reach out to only those who believe the same?  Would we cull through all our friends and  delete those who were of a different religion or political party?  Do we,  Democrats,  automatically disengage from the Republicans we know?  Do you Republicans, leave the Democrats out of your prayer requests?

My  guess is.. no.  If someone we love is in need, we  reach out to anyone who we think might send a prayer, chant, healing light or whatever form of support they can offer. 

So, I guess what I’m doing here is asking you to go deep and find your compassion.  Hold my friend, Kay, and her husband Kirk, in the light.  Maybe too, I am hoping that we can come together, as mere human beings occupying Planet Earth, and somehow, find a way to coexist in a peaceful, caring manner.  I’m not so naive to think this will be easy  or even acceptable to everyone.  I have a cousin who is as nasty as anyone I know in terms of sheer hatred and avoidance of facts, but that’s his journey, not mine, and I choose to believe that most of us are more than ready to find the light  and go about creating peace wherever we can.  I even have hopes that he will, someday,  move beyond the constraints of his ideology.  Stranger things have happened, right?  But, he represents what I don't want to be and that's another good reason to reach out and simply try.....meandering into hope, miracles and, always...peace.

Yogi Teapartiers

Did you ever wonder what might happen if the Teapartiers put Yogi tea bags on their hats?  Don't you think it might lighten them up a little? Here are a few Yogi quotes I really think might be appropriate:

"Strength does not lie in what you have. It lies in what you can give". One would think this would require some deep introspection, wouldn't one?

 "Uplift everybody and uplift yourself" and "Live for each other".  Those might stir up a little soul nagging, right?  I mean, correct???  We don't want to use the "right" word here, it gets way too confusing.

Lastly, "Old age needs wisdom and grace."  Now, surely they don't consider their shenanigans either graceful or wise…ugly, irrational anger is never accompanied by grace or wisdom.  Actually, quite the opposite, don't you think?

Maybe we should take up a collection of Yogi tea bags and send them to the Teapartier's head bagger. We can add a sweet, little note offering our best wishes for true enlightenment along their chosen path. And, on the front of the envelop, we could add one more quote…."peace begins with me." 

Deciding where to go with this is a major struggle.  I like the concept, but am fearful of offending because I am trying so hard to eliminate anger and understand it all in a peaceful and meditave mode.  My soul belief is that if we don’t find a way to interact with each other, we’re, essentially, doomed as the human species occupying Planet Earth.  We can blame Republicans all day long, and they, in turn can blame us.  The reality is, we’re both at fault.  There is a middle ground, and as painful as it may be, it is imperative that the majority of us find a way to meet.  There is no hope for the leftest of the left or the rightest of the right, these people have lost touch with reality.  But, for the rest of us...can we not find a way?  I so hope we can.

So, I’m just gonna put this out there and hope that it may create just one or two ripples...and who knows where the ripples may lead?  Hopefully, somewhere peaceful....

Just Not White Enough

I am just sickened to read the background of the man who walked into a holy place yesterday and killed 6 innocent people.  He killed them because they weren't white enough, Christian enough, and they miserably failed the gun-toting good ol' boy test. 

These people were in their temple preparing for the Sunday service and in comes Mr. America and destroys their very existence. Mind you, these people were not radical, babbling, hate-the-world kind of religious fanatics.  They were of a kinder and gentler origin. The Sikh believe that there is one God and that all beings are equal.  People of all religions and races are welcome and women have equal status in their religious services and ceremonies.  They also believe that human life is precious above other life and that living by God's commands they can attain oneness with his mercy. They are peace loving people and stand for truth and justice.  All these beautiful beliefs they try to practice, all character traits we claim to strive for ourselves, but they weren't white Christians.

You may question my reference to "Mr. America", well, it seems to me that this sick human being represents more and more of Americans.  We've become less and less tolerant of each other.  More and more of us want our country to go back to the 50's when it was all about whites, and though blacks weren't slaves, well, at least they knew their place, didn't they?   They want a white, Christian America and they'll destroy our country before they open their minds and hearts to anything different.

When we ever learn?  Prejudice, hatred and violence have been the result of white America's refusal to stand up for what we could and should be.  I think we need to mandate all schools, public and private, who get tax breaks, to teach our children about other religions and cultures. Despite the tough economic times, we have an obligation to teach our children about the beautiful, diverse world that we live in. 

  White America needs to wake up to what’s happening and join hands with every human being in this country,  no matter their color, religion, politics....whatever.   Until we can do that....until we can learn from the Sikh’s that indeed, We Are One, this tragedy will continue to repeat itself time and time again.  How can that not break your heart?

Yes, Mr. and Mz. America, I’m talking to you.  Ignorance is not bliss.  Ignorance kills.

Surrender...

OK.....I surrender.  What are you surrendering to, you might, understandably, ask. And, probably, you would expect a fairly simple reply, right? Ah, sorry to say, it ain't that easy.

My brother shared a wonderful quote, and I'm not even sure where it came from, but does it really matter?  "The creative process is a process of surrender...not control."

Now, isn't that just so powerful?  As a bit of a control freak, and I need to take a quick minute to explain that it's not like I want to control anyone...I just refuse to let anyone control me.  Now, can it, occasionally, become more overtly controlling? Yeah,probably so, but the intent never waivers.  OK?  : )

So, I'm totally good with surrendering to the arteest in me, but in the past 2 days, I'm realizing that I must also surrender to the sheer angst I feel about our country.  I woke up Friday morning and saw the horrific slaughter in Aurora, CO. My first reaction was to feel the pain of the parents and other loved ones who lost their special somebody.  My second reaction was to strike out at the fucked up gun laws in this country. And, thirdly, I just felt an intense sadness for all of us who are caught up in this horror.

I haven't spent a whole lot of time watching TV because they go way beyond the pale in their competition to come up with the most eye witnesses or who can best invade the privacy of the families and friends...or just plain speculate. I do so despise their constant, irrelevant speculations. But, I have also been reading posts and comments to the postings and this is what brings me to just surrender to it all.

Yes, I believe we need to pull together and rewrite our gun laws.  I'm pretty sure our forefathers didn't consider the possibility of automatic weapons and I'm pretty sure no one needs them to protect their home, children, livestock, whatever. As much as I dislike guns, I get that some people like to hunt and some feel the need of having a gun to protect whatever they feel needs protecting.  I don't like it, but I surrender to it. 

One may argue the point that had this been a Muslim or a black man, there would have been a totally different reaction, this is true...no point in arguing it. Others say that we, as a nation, wouldn't have reacted as strongly if those killed or injured were of a different color.  Personally, I think that's race baiting.  The victims were black, white and all shades in between.  There are those who attack the film and the violence it contains and yes, there is that, but how many violent films have been out there for a very long time?  At least, Batman, is about good winning over bad.

What happened is so simple that it's really difficult for us to comprehend.  A very sick young man decided that his life sucked, so he dreamed up this scheme to make it count for something.  And, he did just that.

This is why I surrender.  There will always be sick men, and women, in our world and we are totally at their mercy.  Could we change it?  Yes, we can make stricter gun laws, but always, where there's a will, there's a way. It can happen at anytime and any place.  I surrender to the uncertainties of life.  I surrender to the vast differences of who we are as a nation, world citizens and, more basically, human beings. I surrender my belief that I, or my peeps, are always right...and I hate to say "right", maybe correct is a better work, but WTF...I surrender to that.  There is right and there is wrong, and I even surrender to that.

We are ONE country and we can choose to pull together or we can allow ourselves to be torn apart.  You may hate what I believe and I may hate what you believe, but given the latest tragedy in our country, can we not ignore the media and just surrender to the concept that we are Americans?  Can we not surrender our hatred and our bias and just work it out? If we can find a way to do this, maybe it would bring something good from this tragedy.  It's worth a try.

Surrender

OK.....I surrender. What are you surrendering to, you might, understandably, ask. And, probably, you would expect a fairly simple reply, right? Ah, sorry to say, it ain't that easy. My brother shared a wonderful quote, and I'm not even sure where it came from, but does it really matter? "The creative process is a process of surrender...not control." Now, isn't that just so powerful? As a bit of a control freak, and I need to take a quick minute to explain that it's not like I want to control anyone...I just refuse to let anyone control me. Now, can it, occasionally, become more overtly controlling? Yeah,probably so, but the intent never waivers. OK? : ) So, I'm totally good with surrendering to the arteest in me, but in the past 2 days, I'm realizing that I must also surrender to the sheer angst I feel about our country. I woke up Friday morning and saw the horrific slaughter in Aurora, CO. My first reaction was to feel the pain of the parents and other loved ones who lost their special somebody. My second reaction was to strike out at the fucked up gun laws in this country. And, thirdly, I just felt an intense sadness for all of us who are caught up in this horror. I haven't spent a whole lot of time watching TV because they go way beyond the pale in their competition to come up with the most eye witnesses or who can best invade the privacy of the families and friends...or just plain speculate. I do so despise their constant, irrelevant speculations. But, I have also been reading posts and comments to the postings and this is what brings me to just surrender to it all. Yes, I believe we need to pull together and rewrite our gun laws. I'm pretty sure our forefathers didn't consider the possibility of automatic weapons and I'm pretty sure no one needs them to protect their home, children, livestock, whatever. As much as I dislike guns, I get that some people like to hunt and some feel the need of having a gun to protect whatever they feel needs protecting. I don't like it, but I surrender to it. One may argue the point that had this been a Muslim or a black man, there would have been a totally different reaction, this is true...no point in arguing it. Others say that we, as a nation, wouldn't have reacted as strongly if those killed or injured were of a different color. Personally, I think that's race baiting. The victims were black, white and all shades in between. There are those who attack the film and the violence it contains and yes, there is that, but how many violent films have been out there for a very long time? At least, Batman, is about good winning over bad. What happened is so simple that it's really difficult for us to comprehend. A very sick young man decided that his life sucked, so he dreamed up this scheme to make it count for something. And, he did just that. This is why I surrender. There will always be sick men, and women, in our world and we are totally at their mercy. Could we change it? Yes, we can make stricter gun laws, but always, where there's a will, there's a way. It can happen at anytime and any place. I surrender to the uncertainties of life. I surrender to the vast differences of who we are as a nation, world citizens and, more basically, human beings. I surrender my belief that I, or my peeps, are always right...and I hate to say "right", maybe correct is a better work, but WTF...I surrender to that. There is right and there is wrong, and I even surrender to that. We are ONE country and we can choose to pull together or we can allow ourselves to be torn apart. You may hate what I believe and I may hate what you believe, but given the latest tragedy in our country, can we not ignore the media and just surrender to the concept that we are Americans? Can we not surrender our hatred and our bias and just work it out? If we can find a way to do this, maybe it would bring something good from this tragedy. It's worth a try. Don't you think?

NYC....2

“All in all...just another brick in the wall”... This line resonates with me so much more strongly that it did back when I first saw “The Wall”, on video tape, in my son’s apartment in Savannah. We watched it with his roommates, all students at SCAD, and did all we could to insure that we were “comfortably numb” as we allowed our minds to be totally spent on the magical imagery. Flash forward, 20-some years, and here we are at Yankee Stadium with The WALL, in real life, just slam-bam right in front of us. Oh, not to forget, we’re at Yankee Stadium. Now, just breathe all that in for a quick minute, but don’t breathe too quickly if you prefer unenhanced breathing. We come in and find our seats, just behind 3rd base, look out at the stage right in the middle of outfield and just try to take in the whole scene. There’s "The Wall" and speakers and other big boxes which I have no idea about their purpose, nor do I care because, really,what does it matter? By the time the concert started, the stadium was pretty much filled, and that’s a whole bunch of peeps, y’all. From the second the concert began until the second it ended, I was in the world of Roger Waters and it was like being on an emotional roller coaster from some weird planet that resembled earth, but it was so painful, you just hoped maybe it wasn’t earth after all. The imagery was beyond amazing and it totally pulled me right into the vortex and I’m still not sure it's set me free. It begins with war and a war plane comes flying from the 3rd base bleecher seats right into the stage. You know it’s not real, where you are, but you know it’s real somewhere and you feel like one of the people who were there where it was real. And you go to the story of the bricks in the wall and you get it, you really get it, and now in 2012, quite a distance from 1987, it all makes so much more sense...and how sad is that? Throughout the show, there are images of war and photos and videos of people who are so harmed by the wars....on both sides. Do you know the video with the little girl, who is in her classroom, and her dad, who has been in Iraq, comes into the room and her face goes through so many emotions when she finally sees him? And, the little boy, who accepts the American flag at his father’s military funeral? How does this not break your heart?And, the faces of innocent Muslims who are dead simply because they are Muslims. It shows the many faces of evil, but it also shows the many faces of love. I left there so full of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Not conflicted about war being wrong...I will always believe that. But, with an internal struggle of what can we do, what can we not do, and is it really worth all the effort because, essentially, we’re doomed anyway. So, having, finally, somewhat separating myself from “The Wall”, I feel I can finally share it because.....I refuse to believe there’s no hope for us. This concert shows us the evil side of who we are and, I think, Roger Waters does this in hope that we see it, believe it, and vow to make a change. Call me Pollyanna... naieve...dumb...whatever...I do believe we can do better. I will have to say that this event was an experience of a lifetime and I will never forget it and will always be grateful to my son for giving me the opportunity to be there. Just to let you know, the magic of the night didn’t end there. We took a cab back to our part of town and stopped by the corner pizza place to grab a bite to take back to the apartment. We decided to just stay there and have a little pizza and wine. While we were there, a terrific thunderstorm rolled in, and we saw the most incredible lightening dancing in between the tall buildings of NYC. I had seen this many time in movies and on TV, and here I was experiencing it in real life. All I can say is....Amen.

NYC Meanderings

(Friday, July 13) A week ago, I was in NYC with my sister and we were on a train coming back to the city after an afternoon in Yonkers visiting the set where my son is working on a film. It was being shot in an old mansion, quite spooky, as befitting the mood of the film, which is of the horror genre and based on the novel, “Innocence,” a beautifully written story by Jane Mendelsohn. It was such a joy to see him at work and have the opportunity to meet his crew. The only photos I took on the set were the director chairs with his name on one and the film director’s on the other. That was a very proud moment for this mom. After a few hours, the heat was really getting to me and we needed to find transportation back to the city. A crew member was taking the train to get to her second job, as a tailor in the wardrobe department of one of the plays on Broadway, and thanks to one of the guys on the production crew, we were able to catch a ride to the Yonkers station with her. She, very graciously, helped us maneuver the process. I had always wanted to ride a train from Grand Central Station, and this opportunity just fell into our laps, only we were going into Grand Central. Ah, sweet serendipity. We rode along the Hudson River and it was just so beautifully peaceful, I could just imagine what it would be like in the fall with all the leaves in full color and the winter, with everything covered in white snow. As we pulled into the city and saw the majestic buildings, I felt the thrill of the sheer energy of all the millions of people who live and work there. I was really excited about pulling into GCS and had all kinds of images in my mind of just how it would look. Well, imagine my surprise when we suddenly went to dark...no trees, no buildings, no people...just dark...like an underground tunnel, which, of course, is just what it was. Please pardon my lack of sophistication, but I had no idea that the trains would go underground...like where the subways are. It really took me a while to come to terms with the reality. Underground! I though we would come into the station on ground level...not under! WTF!!! It was like a parody of life...what you think is not what it is...so you turn it around in your mind until it makes some kind of sense,sort of. Once we reached our destination and we got above ground and saw the inside of Grand Central Station, I looked up at the ceiling and forgot all about the dark entry...all was well...all was beautifully and wondrously well. The ceiling!!! The windows!!!! The majesty!!! The people!!!!! The energy!!!! My heart sang with the sheer joy and amazement of being, finally, in Grand Central Station. It only took me 69 years to get there, but maybe I needed to be this old to totally appreciate it, as is should be appreciated. We saw so many things that were just mind-boggling...the crowd at Times Square was both exhilarating and terrifying for this claustrophobic ol’ Carolina Beach gal. I loved, loved, loved, the multicultural presence and wished that somehow we could send every single schoolchild to NYC for a month so they could experience and come to understand the vastness of our country. Then, maybe the fear and the prejudices would finally be put to rest. We’re just people...every single one of us. The kindness of the people who helped us get our bearings and sent us in the direction we needed to be going was unfailingly consistent. And, trust me, we needed them more times than I can even remember. Most days we just started walking and were open to whatever came our way. I had my mind set on going to a Goodwill store, so we set out for the closest one which was 30 blocks away...not a really big deal in NYC. The temp was supposed to reach 100 that day, so we figured we’d need to make several stops in the air conditioned shops along the way. No problem! It was so horribly hot, I decided to just wear my pajama bottoms because they’re the most lightweight pants I had and figured in NYC, who would notice? I topped them of with a tank top and we hit the streets. I won’t take you through the whole 30 blocks, but here’s a bit of what we saw along the way..... Gayle King!!! She’s a beautiful woman! Surely, you all know Gayle, right? Oprah's best friend! I didn’t follow her or approach her, but had Oprah been with her...well, that would have been a different story all together. Lincoln Center!!! OMG!!!! We sat on the very stairs that Anne Bancroft and Shirley McClain sat in “The Turning Point” and we went into the Metropolitan Opera Shop and there I was in my pj’s and it just felt ok...ya know? We listened to Riggelotto as we shopped. Need I say anything more? We meandered for 32 blocks and no Goodwill. But, no worries, we were just filled with the awesomeness of being in NYC. Took the subway back to our bar, had a little wine, and all was good. That night we went to see Roger Waters and “The WALL” at Yankee Stadium. I need a little more time to process that, so please hang with me for part 2 of our NYC meandering.

Now what?

How does one, who loves to write, go from January to the end of June without writing? How does one who went deep into her being to find the courage to create a blog suddenly just quit? How does one who feels so passionately about so many issues just simply quit writing...I mean, all together, quit writing...not just a blog but everything...every single thing...email responses...facebook comments...journals....daily updates, etc.? Friends ask me, are you not doing your blog anymore? I say...not now, I'm just taking a break. I ask myself...why are you not writing something...anything??? I don't know how to answer...even myself. Yes, I'm a procrastinator and yes, I get occupied with way too many things which, essentially, makes it very difficult for me to focus on any one particular issue. But, what kind of excuse is that? That's been the story of my life for, well...my whole life. I'm in the middle of clearing out stuff and some of the stuff is really, really difficult to let go. Like my books. I could fill a medium sized library with books and parting with them is like parting with an essential part of me. But, I realize that, if I am to go forward and connect with the me that seems to need a break from stuff...the me who needs to create a space which allows me to simply breathe, I need to let go. So, I'm in the process of letting go and this is, essentially, a grieving process. The key seems to be that as I grieve, I also feel an opening, a light, so to speak, which bring promise of a clearer tomorrow...maybe, if I'm lucky, many clearer tomorrows. In a little over a week, I turn 69, an interesting age, to be sure, but as I approach 70, the one thing I know, for sure, is that I want to be less encumbered with stuff. Maybe it's the George Carlin in me, but mostly, I think it's just my need to be free and that's a little hard to do when I'm buried in stuff. So, back to my slackness in writing my blog, etc., I have this deep feeling that I need to simply admit that I'm going through a depressive period of my life. It's been ongoing for quite a while and I thought if I just ignored it and kept on keeping on it would magically go away. Silly me! Anyway, as I go though this process of letting go I feel a strong need to let go of my pretenses and my claims that all is well. All is NOT well! Life is a struggle for me right now and as much as it shames me, it's just the simple truth. And, I wonder why I feel shame, how ridiculous is that? I guess it's my fear of letting people down..people who seem to think I have it all together. I'm so sorry to tell you...I don't. It seems right to share this because there are so many of us in the same place. So, in clearing out my stuff, I'm hoping it's part of the process of clearing out me. I'm so ready to get beyond where I am and rekindle the energy to do what I want to do. Getting back to my blog is a crucial part of the process. I need to get back in touch with my meandering spirit. Thank you for listening. I wish you peace, love, and a bit of chocolate to soothe your soul.

Happy New Year!

I'm thinking that sending a "Happy New Year" greeting is good through the whole month of January and maybe even into the first week of February, but no longer, because then you have Valentine's Day, right? And, once you reach a certain age, say...65ish, you seem to go right from Valentine's Day to the July 4th celebration and shortly thereafter here comes Thanksgiving and Christmas, which lasts for maybe 3 hours.... and then it's another year. So, very quickly, before it turns into mid-May (30 minutes away), I want to wish you a very Happy New Year and hope that 2012 will be better than we ever thought it might be. Also, I hope it doesn't go by so quickly that we lose sight of our todays.

When I was a young girl, my grandmother, Munna, we called her, used to tell us that the older you got, the quicker time goes by. I never argued the point and, pretty much, chalked it up to the delusions of old people. After all, time was time, right? Be it 24 hours or 7 months or 25 years, it was still time and it was the same for everyone. I loved and revered this woman, but on this particular subject, I thought I needed to give her a little lead way...because of her age, don'cha know?

Well, now I get. Oh boy, do I ever get it. I wake up and get on Google to make sure the world is still functioning and in full motion and then onto my mailbox to be sure the President didn't need anything from me, in particular, other than $$$, of course. Then onto facebook, the true pulse of the world, just to see if anyone had posted anything that required my comments...after all, it's all our facebook tittering and dithering that keeps us alive, right?

So, then I do a few, and let me emphasize...few...chores to justify my existence on this planet. I fix a little breakfast and clean up the kitchen which may take anywhere from 3 to 25 minutes, depending on the crumbs my Dave has left behind and if there's any possibility that someone may come into our home for some strange reason. Guess that's sort of like the clean underwear mentality, right?

Then, maybe I take a shower and maybe I don't, but whatever, I find my way back to the computer, for an hour or so, to follow through with the activities that seem more important than anything else. Well, then I'm feeling a little sleepy so I take a little nap and when I wake up, the house seems darker than it should be and I look at my clock and it's 5:00...so, how the hell did that happen? And so it goes...wine time and then dinner time and back to the computer and maybe TV, depending on what's on, and, finally... closing out the night with reading a book until my sleeping pill takes effect.

Oh yes...yes..yes...I get what my Munna was talking about and she was so very wise. I feel better knowing that she experienced this phenomenon and shared it with me. Now, the really big question...do I share this insight with my grandchildren? I'm thinking yeah..probably should...maybe they'll think I'm a bit looney for a few decades, but someday they'll get it and remember that I prepared them. Score one for Grandma, right?

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

.

Stephanie's Birthday

I went down to Ft. Fisher to see my friend, Stephanie, this afternoon. She would have been 60 today. She missed this special birthday by less than a month, which really is a shame because, somehow, sixty seems a much more appropriate age to die than fifty-nine. Fifty-nine just speaks of unfinished business...the business of life, you know? Sixty is acceptable. Sad,...but acceptable.

It was afternoon before I even realized what this day was, and that has less to do with my thoughts of Steph and more to do with the fact that I’ve turned into one of these old ladies who never know what the actual date is. But, that’s another story.

So, I went on Steph’s facebook page and sent a message because I needed to do something to acknowledge the specialness of her birthday. But, somehow that just didn’t really reasonate within my heart, and I had this nagging feeling that I needed to get myself to Ft. Fisher. I tried pushing it back because I had so much to do and was horribly behind in everything I was supposed to be doing. But, as the afternoom went on, the feeling just got stonger and finally, I listened to my source, followed the directions, put on my flip flops and headed out the door. Didn’t even make it to the bottom of the steps, when source tells me to go back and get my camera...I didn’t even question it...just went back and got it.

Got to Ft. Fisher, not hoping to connect with Steph, just knowing that I would. Like before, it didn’t take long. I got there, slid out of my flipflops and walked towards the beach. Just as I reached the ocean’s edge, here comes a beautiful pod of pelicans, and they weren’t quite in their “V” formation, but, obviously working towards it.

Close your eyes and picture the pelicans zooming in over the ocean...think of the “V” formation...the lines are formed but they’ve just not quite come together in true “V” formation. Imagine the pelicans on the top of the almost “V” formation, and then imaging the ones on the bottom, flying up to meet the top crew.

Got it? OK...now the lead pelican, of the bottom crew, starts flying in a downward direction and for half a second her crew follows, but she takes an even deeper dip towards the beach and her crew doesn’t follow, but moves towards the upper crew, which, I would guess, is their goal.

This wayward pelican flew right where I was standing and didn’t go any further inland, she just flew right over me and then rejoined her crew...and resumed the lead position. She didn’t come close...didn’t lose any altitude, but she flew right over me...on the beach.

Well, of course, it was Steph. I knew it the minute I saw the pelicans. I knew it because I had seen her riding the pelicans the day her spirit left this planet. But, this time, I didn’t think so much that she was riding the pelican...she was the pelican.

Is this hard to believe? Not really. I just finished a book that spoke of the messages that people, who have died, leave for those of us who are still here. In one incident, the very young person, who had passed, left a message via a movie which happened to be in a DVD case that happened to fall off the shelf just when her special friend was in the video store. The writer made it seem very real and, I’m thinking, if someone who has gone to the other side can send a message in this form, why would I not believe that my friend couldn’t, or wouldn’t, send a message via a pelican at her favorite beach.

Dave wrote a wonderful story of a man whose deepest wish was to be a pelican for a day and eventually he happened upon a peilican who has a similar wish..only to be a human for a day. So, long story short, they find a way to make that happen. My feeling is that Stephanie is a pelican right now, or at least she was when I was there.

Her message was the same as before........all is well. I’m fine...I’m free.

So, I waalked the beach for a while, kinda looking for shark’s teeth, but not serious looking...I knew that wasn’t why I was there. I told Steph how much we loved her and missed her. She knew.

I left the beach and drove down to the end of the island to watch the sunset. It was incredibly beautiful and the vitality of the colors were just amzing... but what else would I expect...after all, it was Steph’s sunset.

We may lose the physical presence of a special person, but we never lose the love. This, I do believe.

Stephanie...part 2

In my last post, I told you about my friend, Stephanie, but didn't want to make it too long by adding these writings from last week. I hesitated in sharing these, not being sure how they would be received, but realize..it doesn't matter..it's not about how they're received..it's about expressing and sharing my heart....my own truth.

Oct. 17: I walked on the beach with my friend today. Yes, I know that according to the mindset of our world, she died this morning, but I’m here to tell you...she was there. Let me explain how it all came about, and then I think you’ll understand.

This morning, I woke up with a pit in my stomach, an ache in my heart and a sense of heaviness throughout my whole being. Many of us woke up with the same feeling because we knew that Stephanie’s life, as we knew it, would end that day. Our collective hearts ached for her and most of all, for her guys.

The morning was hard and heavy and sad. I lit 3 candles...one for John, one for Steph’s boys, and one...it was purple...for Steph. They burned most of the morning and I decided to put them out...first I blew on the two white candles...they went out immediately, but the purple one fought it and sputtered and spat and, finally, the flame did go out, but the smoke continued to hang around for a while. That should have been my first clue.

In the afternoon, I followed my plan to go to the beach so I could feel a connection with Steph and maybe say goodbye. I went to my favorite spot at CB and, as I walked the beach, I was thinking maybe Steph would lead me to a shark’s tooth. All of a sudden, I felt as if I’d been slapped alongside my head and this voice says...WTF are you doing here? Go to Ft. Fisher. And it’s one of those 'duh' moments, you know? That was Steph’s beach, so, of course, I needed to be at Ft. Fisher...what was I thinking???

I get to Ft. Fisher and immediately realize I’m in the right place. Steph was here waiting for me...and she seemed to say...what took you so long? As I walked the beach, I was looking for shark’s teeth and really believing that Steph would help me find at least one. My feeling was that I needed to find a shark’s tooth for Steph.

Funny thing happened....the further I walked, the more I came to understand that it wasn’t about the shark’s tooth....I couldn’t continue her legacy by becoming a super shark tooth finder....or any other special treasure from the sea. It was about paying attention to what I was feeling during this walk.

When I finally got that message, I realized I was smiling, and had been since I got there. It was a happy smile, not just a semi...it’s ok smile. I felt a lightness of heart and soul that I hadn’t felt in such a long time, and I knew...the kind of knowing that goes all the way down to your toes...that I was right where I was supposed to be.

I began to feel Steph in the gentle breeze and the whiry wind that would come and go. I watched her dance in the offshore waves and as I watched the seabirds flying around and playing with the ocean’s waves, I thought I saw Steph riding on their backs. In every sense of the word, my friend was one with the sea. And....why not???? Where else would she be?

And what she said was...I’m free.....it’s all good. So, after a while, I said goodbye, in the worldly way and, in letting her go, I felt no sadness for Steph because I knew she was fine and had finally found her peace. One thing I knew for sure...we never really say goodbye to the people we love.


October 18. I got a message from John saying that Steph was still alive, but was continuing to lose her abiity to breathe...then, a couple hours later, another message that she had died. It was like a second wave of grief because we had all believed that she couldn’t live more than an hour or so without the vent and assumed that she had passed on Monday.

At first, I questioned my experience at the beach the day before, but finally came to understand that the connection with Steph at Ft. Fisher didn’t really have anything to do with the actual state of her phisical being. It was her spirit that was with me and even though her body lay on a bed at Hospice, the part of her that really mattered was already free.

Late that afternoon, I decided to go walk on my beach, which is much closer than Ft. Fisher, but as I drove down the beach road, somehow my car just kept on going right past the turnoff to my beach. I figured Steph was at the wheel again and felt, once again, I was doing just what I was supposed to be doing.

Got to Ft. Fisher and followed my instincts toward the path to the right. The day before I had followed those same instincts and took the path to the left. I hadn’t walked very far when I looked up and right in front of me was John, Matt, Jason, Tim, and Johnnie...Steph’s guys. They were just leaving the beach. I was surprised to see them, thinking they would have been there earlier in the day. But, as John said, where else would we be? And, I thought the same thing myself...where else would I be? So, we shared hugs along with funny and sweet Stephanie stories.

Chance meeting? No way. I knew Steph was directing the whole scene and she was smiling and saying to me...watch out for my guys....and reminding them that they were not alone. They left to go to dinner at Steph’s favorite restaurant and I walked on the beach for a while just soaking in all the peace and love I felt from this encounter. And, I knew one more thing...Steph could finally breathe again...on her own...beside, in and around her special beach.

Stephanie was the real deal...she answered only to her own truth and that was her gift to me down at the beach.....not to find the shark’s teeth, but to find and claim my own truth. I have a feeling that when I forget, she'll find a gentle way to remind me.

Thank you, Steph......you made us all the better for being a part of our lives. Dance in peace, my friend.

My friend, Stephanie, died last week. She lost her battle with ALS, but then, being a nurse, she knew she didn't have any hope of winning that particular battle. She knew exactly what was in store for her from the day of diagnosis to her final day of taking the last agonizing breath. She knew and she was terrified, but she still fought like a champ and, with the love and support of her husband, John, made the very best of the last two years of her life.

This summer she was still searching for shark's teeth to add to her collection of well over a thousand. The difference was...she was doing it from a beach-access wheelchair, which John provided through whatever system he was able to connect with. Still, she found them..tiny sharks teeth... even from the chair...amazing.

In her last three months, she lay in a hospital bed in a wonderful room, in her home, with windows to look out so she could watch the birds and the squirrels and whatever critters happened to wander into the yard. She could see the flowers and the trees and all the nature that was visible from her window. Steph was a lover of nature and I mean a real lover of ALL nature....even bugs. She loved spiders and no one was allowed to kill a spider if Steph was around. If there was a roach in the house, it had to be covered with a paper cup and gently guided outside. Mice? No worries, she could hear them in the walls and would just smile at her boys, as if to say, they are a part of our family and have every much right to be here as we do.

During this time at home, she was on a vent, which, essentially, breathed for her. She hung on for three months, and all that time, she was surrounded by the love and beautiful care from her husband, John, and her sons, Matt, Jason, Tim, and Johnny. There were nurses there to provide her physical needs, and they were wonderful, but her guys were the providers of the food for her soul. And, oh, did they ever provide. As a mom, I watched the interaction with her boys, and it was beautiful . They were totally with her...in her... and for her... throughout the whole process of her dying. John was there and he provided the loving care for Steph and his boys. For three months, everything he did, every thought he had was for his wife and his sons and what he could do to make it all better.

Steph was taken to Hospice last Monday and she died Tuesday morning. Thanks to John and Hospice, she died in dignity and without suffering or pain.

So, now, we all move forward. But, with us, we take the spirit of Steph and we carry on with her causes. Wherever there is a wrong, we will stand up and try to make it right. That was our Steph...advocate for the underdog...believer in justice for all...fighter to make this country/world what it can be and what it should be. She believed in the best of us and loathed the worst of us. I believe her spirit will stay with us, and if we lose focus, she'll be right there... encouraging us to love our family, our friends, our critters..whatever they may be...and standing up for what we believe. We are one... is what Steph believed. And, I believe it too...even as I struggle with the spiders.

Bathroom of the Right

Sometimes, I simply don't know what I think I know. I get these ideas that just seem to make so much sense and then....wham...out of nowhere... something comes along to make me question everything about my original thinking. That sets off a whole litany of WTF issues for me. It makes me question many of the whys, whats and wherefores which, over many years, have accumulated in my brain, much like the old vines that used to cling to the trees in my back yard.

Ok, so in my typical meandering thought pattern...here we go. I used to think that once a person reached a certain age, they would just naturally inherit a deep sense of wisdom and grace. Now I realize this just ain't necessarily so. It can happen...I've seen it happen, but I've also seen the total opposite. I've watched folks get older, but instead of getting wiser, they seen to get dumber. Instead of getting kinder, they become more greedy and selfish. Instead of expanding minds, it seem their minds are getting smaller and smaller and scarier and scarier.

Back to this simple fact: I really don't know what I thought I knew.

Take our country. The United States of America. As the daughter of a Navy man, I grew up in a Stars and Stripes kind of environment. Quite simply, we believed in our country. We believed in John Wayne, goddammit, and we were taught to hate Commies, the Japs, and anything that challenged our idea of America. But, as I grew older and became more aware of the flip side of certain issues, I began to think...are we really what I though we were? And, as we digress from one war to another war, I am more and more concerned about, not only, who we have become, but what we were.

Meandering a little further...religion. I grew up Methodist and attended MYF. After marriage #1, I switched to Presbyterian and taught Sunday School where I got called out for not following the "Predestination" dogma. I dared to suggest to my class (grades 5-7..ish) that there was a little bit of free will there and if they could find their own path, it might make life a whole lot easier for them. Ooops!

Maybe I take things too literally, but I thought if you were a Christian, at least a true Christian, you tried to live by the teachings of Jesus. The older I got, the more I realized how terribly naive I was and finally, I realized I couldn't really call myself a Christian anymore because I was no longer sure just what it meant. I still don't know.

Meandering back to the vines....they have their own life, you know, and it's a selfish one because their survival depends on the tree they occupy. They don't offer anything in exchange...just take and take and take. Eventually, they kill the tree and it's a slow, smothering kind of death for the tree because it restricts, and eventually, prevents the tree to grow. The tree has no room to spread it's beautiful branches because the vines weigh them down with their own agenda. If one, be we tree or person, loses the opportunity of growth, we eventually die, right?

I feel like we, and I mean the global we, are being smothered by the vines. We've drunk way too much of the kool-aid...all of us...whatever our religion, or lack of...whatever our political affiliation...whatever our whatevers...essentially, we've lost our way.

There's an old Creedence Clearwater Revival song called "Bad Moon Rising". For years, I thought the bad moon out tonight was the bathroom on the right, and when listening to the lyrics, it all made sense. Well, as much sense as a whole lot of lyrics make. Then, I read an article about the people who though, just as I did...the bathroom on the right. Huh? How can I be so wrong about the lyrics of one of my favorite songs? However, it was kind of nice to know that I wasn't the only one who thought that...I mean, stupidity loves company, right?

But, I guess it also left me wondering about the many other things I thought I knew. And the wondering goes on. Maybe what we're really all about is...the bathroom on the right.

Authenticity

How do you think we can find the path to our true authentic self? Are some people just born with it? You would assume that, wouldn't you? I mean, we meet some people who just seem to have it all together and they speak their piece as though it were "The Word". And, they seem to believe it, right? I don't know about you, but I've always wondered just who these people really are and WTF enables them to have that self confidence.

Most of my life has been spent in awe of these people and not so much wishing I were like them, but just sort of wondering why I was not? How did I manage to miss that boat? Usually, I just figure that I was simply preoccupied with other issues like how can I keep myself relatively sane, and therefore, not focused on the issues that really mattered. You know, ..career...life goals...financial stability, Life 101, etc.,etc.,etc.

Recently, I had a wonderful visit with my son and his family, which includes my, near perfect, grandchildren. During the visit, it became necessary to assist their sweet, ancient dog, Syd, in her escape from this earthly plane to a better, and less painful, resting place. It was difficult for everyone, but especially so for my 9 year old grandson, Finley. He struggled with the idea of putting Syd down and made a strong statement about the fact that we didn't do this to people, so why would we do it to dogs.
He referred to the vet as a dog killer. Much as I wanted to argue that point, I understood how he felt and truthfully, as nine year old, I probably would have felt the same way. It was arranged for the vet to come to the house to put Syd down on Friday and my son and his wife talked with Fin and let him know that he had an option of going to spend the night with a friend. We all tried to help him understand that he didn't have to be there and it would be totally ok for him to say goodbye to Syd before he left for camp that morning. He remained undecided until Friday morning.

When we woke up, he came and got in the bottom bunk with me, and I asked him if he knew what he wanted to do. His answer amazed me. "Syd was here when I was born, right Grandma?" "Right", I responded. "Well, since she was here when I was born, I want to be with her when she dies." Whoa! That comes from a nine year old? Is that not totally profound? Did he maybe skip to Life 102 in that moment? All, I know is that, in that moment, he became one of my heros.

So, if at 9 years old, we still have a firm grasp on our authenticity, when do we begin to lose it? I think it's gradual, and I say this because I'm beginning to see a wee bit of it with my 13 year old granddaughter. It's like this precious child has been kidnapped by the teenage goblins. She seems to know what's happening, and she tries to recapture the innocence and sweetness of her 10 year old self, but the teen goblins just won't allow that on any permanent basis. So, to my way of thinking, this is the first step into the inauthentic zone.

From there, it just seems to go downhill. At least for quite a few years. The "outside" dominates us and we almost cringe from our authentic selves because we are so afraid we won't fit in or the "important" people won't like us. We get so stuck with what we think we should be that we forget who we are.

Suppose we just declare a re-authenticity day. Actually, it may need to be a week, or even a month...maybe even longer. Let's say we allow ourselves however much time we need to reclaim our own authenticity. Maybe we could start by recapturing our nine year old selves and just listen to the speakings of our heart. All we need to do is make the jump from Life 101 to Life 102. That's where our real selves are waiting.

Can you imagine what a beautiful world we might create?

Live curious. That message popped up on a TV commercial for HD programming. When you really think about it, it's an extremely profound statement, don't you think? Live Curious. Actually, I can see that as a bumper sticker. I'm thinking it could be a life-changing bumper sticker, as in, maybe it would ignite a conversation with the folks in the car behind. Imagine what the conversations might be.

Scenario 1: The car behind is inhabited with a couple who have been arguing about the same issue for years and years. They're heading to dinner and essentially, no one is speaking because they're both in their own little world. The love is there, but, somewhere along the way, the communication connection was lost. They take notice of the bumper sticker and each, in their own way, compute the message...Live Curious. They get to the restaurant, order their food and as they sip their wine, one of them...probably the wife...says..."so, what do you think that means...live curious?" And so, the conversation begins and, in time, the connection is restored. Happy ending, of course.

Scenario 2: At the next stoplight, a, single mom and her 2 children are in the car behind. She's taking them to school and running late and the kids are fussing and she's majorly stressed...but the 3rd grader notices the bumper sticker and asks Mom what it means. Tired, though she is, she manages to connect with this message and tells him it just means to ask questions about things you don't understand. So, from there, they begin a slow recovery to become the family they want to be.

Scenario 3: A guy , in a truck, is deep in thought about the economy and worried about his job and his home and his future. He's behind a car at the stoplight and takes notice of the bumper sticker...Live Curious. He thinks...WTF??? . Botttom line...he's overwhelmed.

Many scenarios come to mind, but it takes me away from my point.

Live Curious. Hmmmm. Do you think many of us have lost the art of that? I think so. In the last decade, it seems to me, there is less inclination to think about issues because we're so busy and so scattered in our thinking, it's just easier to have others think for us. We listen to the chatter of the media and the pundits who are just more than happy to do our thinking for us. And, we tend to trust the ones we listen to, so... be it politics, left or right...or religion, pro or con...or our health or how to spend our money or raise or kids...or...or...or.

Did we just give up on Live Curious? Did we age ourselves out of that concept? Are we simply victims of information overload and so now we're just like the truck driver in scenario #3...WTF??? Gimme me a break, for crying out loud...bring on the reality shows and partisan "news" shows...religious TV shows.......ANYTHING...just please don't make me think. Let them do it for me.

Live Curious??? Maybe if we ask, really, really nicely, our children...or, our grandchildren, will teach us.

Is all well?

Today, a friend responded to an email I had sent earlier and asked..."is all well"? "All is well", I responded. But, I lied and even as I wrote it I knew it was a lie...simply because it was the easier way. And, I knew she was inquiring about me...just me.

Essentially, all is well with me... so far as my very simplistic life goes. With almost every fiber of my being, I love my husband...we do well on most days. My Sadie dog is awesome....most of the time. For a soon-to-be 68year old, my health is wonderfully well....except when it's not. Financially, all is semi-well...for now. I have majorly awesome friends who keep me afloat more that they can ever know. Also, I'm blessed with a truly awesome sister... and I wish every woman I know and love could have one just like her. And, two brothers who love me and I love them and I breathe all the better just because they're in my life. I am truly, truly blessed to have an incredible son who is my true hero and there is never a day in my life that I don't thank the greater beings for allowing me to be his mom. My grandchildren are, of course, perfectly and incredulously outstanding in every way.

As we go down the line of priorities...I live in a house...six blocks from the beach and we can hear the ocean in the wintertime and we can feel the breeze, watch the majestic pelicans, and listen to the chattering of the sea birds all day long. This was my dream, ever since my family left Miami when I was 12. I still remember getting on the plane, heading to NC, with my mom and baby twin brother and sister and telling my sad and terrified self that someday, I will get back to the ocean. So, yes, all is well with me and my, very self-centered life. There are issues, to be sure, but for the most part, all is well.

But...is All well? How can I answer this in the positive when I know these things:

As most of you know, I volunteer in an inner city elementary school in Wilmington. This is the last week of school. On this last week of school, I've learned some things about a few of the children in my class that have left me feeling... just plain raw.

One girl lives with her great-grandmother (think about that) because her mom is in prison and no one seems to know anything about her father. She has other siblings...I hate that term...sisters or brothers seems so much more real... but this great-grandmother could take care of only one, so her sisters or brothers live in a foster home. This little girl is sweet, smart and ever so huggable, and her great-grandmother is doing the best she can, but, needless to say, her funds are very limited. Now that school is out, where can this child go? Who's going to take care of her non-physical needs this summer and make sure she reads and continues to learn?

She is the one who tugs at my heart and the one who left me sleepless last night. The tragedy is that she is just one....one of the thousands of children who will be left behind because no one cares enough to make sure she has a place in our American society. She doesn't count as a human being and her crimes are ...being poor...and being black.

And there is another child...a little boy...cute... sweet and sad beyond anything we will ever know. His dad is in prison and he (at 7) is the oldest of 4 children. The mom, uneducated, lives off the government. But, there are those who think abortion is amoral and sex education is up to the parents, etc..etc..etc. So, we make them have the babies, but we cut off all help from the government to help them survive.

Is all well? No! Hell, no! Because, as happy as I am with my family and friends and beach house, I cannot erase the fact that we're all connected; like it or not...believe it or not...WE ARE ONE. Until we can accept that and live that ...maybe we need to rethink our answer when someone asks...is all well? Maybe we need to learn to speak up for ALL of us. Hell no, all is not well. What can we do make it better?

Our Inner Fairies

Don't you find it just so amazing that, at the advanced age of 67, one can still make discoveries about oneself? Wouldn't you think we'd know all there is to know about just about everything at this time in our life? Some people seem to be on that level of wisdom and knowledge, but I'm thinking they may be just bluffing. Of course, it's possible that they're just more advanced and have circled through the life experience a few extra times. Maybe they're incredibly quick learners of the ways of life. I don't have these answers, but what I do know for sure is that I'm not one of them. My guess is that I'm on a slower boat this go-round, and it's just where I'm supposed to be.

Recently, one of my especially special friends pointed out something to me. She said that on a couple occasions, she actually saw the Maggie me. Once, when I was particularly enlightened about something and the other when I was having one of my "Lucy" moments. (More about that on a future blog. ) But, for the first time, I realized why I try to keep my Maggie self alive. Maggie is lighter, more fun and ever so much more open. Lynn is the responsible one..the how -can -I- make -it -right- for- you person. Big Sister...responsible for the world. Ah! So serious!

But, don't we all have, at least, two sides to ourselves? I think when we evolve from one life to the next life, we carry our past selves with us, and sometimes we're able to separate one from the other, and sometimes we can't quite let certain pieces of our past persona go. To my way of thinking, this is how we become the person we are designed to be. It's sort of like a puzzle, we get a piece here and there and, somewhere down the line, we finally acquire the last piece that makes us whole. Then we can stop trying and just enjoy the ride...wherever it takes us.

Do you have a "lighter you"? How cool would it be to create a "Lighter Me" day? Obviously, it would have to occur, at least, once a week. On this day, we allow all the little fairies and elves inside us to come out and play. We dance and we sing and we just celebrate our very own "me". If we do this, it will free our spirit and allow us to go out into the world and do whatever we can to make things better.

Of course, I know it all sounds very Pollyaannaish, but hey, WTF...tell me something else that is more important than finding our special place in the world and then helping others to do the same. We really are all in this together whether we like it or not. Supposedly, the world was to end today...well, looks like most of are still around. I think we can all agree that, as long as we're here, we might as well make the best of it, right?

See...I think that's where our inner fairies come into play.