Posts Tagged With: learning from life

fairy pools, standing stones, and (perhaps even) a monster

Our friends Mike and Josie are celebrating twenty five years of marriage this spring. They’ve decided to celebrate with a trip to Scotland. They invited us to come along.
Um, yes please!
We’re making our lists (and you know I’m checking them twice) of all the things we’re hoping to do.
Some are touristy, some not so much.
I will say we changed the dates of the trip for an opportunity to ride the ‘Harry Potter’ train, so there are definitely some touristy things.
Mike is an Outlander fan, has read all the books, and is hankering a trip to Inverness to find some standing stones.
I want to go to the fairy pools and fairy glen at Isle of Skye. (and about eleventy-million things in Edinburgh)
Josie is interested in all things literary, and perhaps Skara Brae.
The only thing YBW said so far is he’s hoping to catch a glimpse of Nessie in her lake. Of course, that means he’s game to do pretty much everything.
We plan to drive some of the (north coast) 500.
I’m hoping for gorgeous grave yards and cemeteries.
Josie and I are interested in finding good quality Scottish cashmere.
We’ve chosen dates.
We’ve booked flights.
I sent an email Monday afternoon with miles of links to explore.
We’re meeting tomorrow for brunch to continue planning.

May is whiskey month, an unexpected a bonus.
I’m sharing this with all y’all and asking for assistance.
If you’ve been to Scotland, or otherwise know it well, and have tips, ideas, suggestions, recommendations, warnings, etc. please let me know so we can add them to the list.
Thanks, y’all!

Categories: travel | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

finding a comfy writing space

I haven’t been writing.
It’s been over a month since y’all got anything other than a tune for Tuesday, and that’s because I oftentimes plan them out in advance.

I had sort of decided I haven’t been writing because I’m spending my time and energy in the final throws of getting us settled. I’m also spending a great deal of my time and energy at school.

But the other day, I realized something outside the boundaries of my time and energy. I haven’t found a place in our new home where I feel comfortable to write.

The loft is a gorgeous light-filled room in which I made for myself a library and creative space.
I’m not one to sit at a desk and write.
In the past I’ve sat curled up in a big club chair with my laptop. I no longer write that way because of the negative impact my neck and shoulder from reaching across my body to use the keyboard on the arm of the chair.
So, I don’t like to sit at the desk, and I can’t really be in my chair the way I like. This means I’m not actually using my computer much at all.

Before I finished setting up my nest in the loft, I used my computer at the kitchen island. To be perfectly honest, I rather loved writing in the kitchen.
The practical aspect of that is my computer can’t always be on the island. And I never found a convenient place to keep it when I wasn’t using it.

Since I finished getting (mostly) settled in the loft, I moved my computer up there.
Literally only touched it to move it.

Perhaps this gorgeous space made for creating doesn’t fit the way I like to write?
Perhaps I haven’t tried it on enough to see how it fits?
I finally unpacked everything and nearly have it set up the way I want.
I need to actually live in the space instead of always being in it unpacking and getting settled.

Whichever way it shakes out, the island is always there in the kitchen waiting for me…

Categories: around the house, me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

IWotB 2021 edition ~ day three

Today is the day!
I’ve been alive and in this world for fifty years. (well, not till 9:13 tonight, but, you know…)
I continue to waffle between something that feels like, “Wow! Fifty!” and “How is this even possible?”

I don’t know what fifty is ‘supposed’ to feel like.
Like, should I feel more ‘grown up’ than I do most days? Because there are some days I find it hard to believe I’m any sort of grown up at all. Then some days I feel one hundred and fifty, so there is that.

Our neighbors hosted an intimate gathering Saturday evening to celebrate YBW’s and my birthdays.
We shared a delicious dinner. Bubbly flowed. As did red wine. Beer made by our friend too. Later in the evening some of us sipped on some pretty rare bourbon.
It was chilly out but we sat by the fire pit and talked into the wee hours.
I can assure you I felt celebrated, y’all. I love these people and they are the sole reason I’m sad to leave this neighborhood.

One couple is already in their fifties, the other in their late thirties.
Our fifty-something friend asked me what I thought about being fifty. What had I learned? What was I anticipating? That sort of thing…

What do I think about being fifty?
First and foremost, it’s simply a number. When I say it’s a number, I mean two things: Woot! I’ve made it to fifty! and Fifty is neither old nor young, it simply is.
I’ve made fifty revolutions around the sun. I gratefully choose to celebrate this. I’ve been here ‘getting along just singing my song’ long enough to learn a thing or two about myself and my place in the world.

What do I think about being fifty?
I think I’m finally at home in my own skin.
I know I’m smarter and more capable than I was told or taught to believe.
I feel strong and confident in my skills as a human.
I am clearly aware of my worth.
I can see value in my strengths, and possibly even more importantly, in my vulnerabilities.
I am as much as, yet also more than, the sum of my parts.

What do I think about being fifty?
I’ve done the hard work of being a mother and now I get to rest on my laurels and joyfully watch my daughters navigate their own lives.
I’ve done the hard work to learn and heal from childhood wounds and now I get to apply that to my daily life.
I accept the choices I made that helped and hindered me becoming the human I am today and I am grateful for all I’ve learned.

What do I think about being fifty?
I’m at an age where I am comfortable with the number of people I choose to have in my life. Some of these people have been with me for more than thirty years, some just in the last ten. But each one is in my world because they bring something beautiful. Each one of them is a part of my heart in real and invaluable ways.
I’m content to let relationships rest. I don’t have to be in constant contact with someone to know the value and power of the relationship. Friendships that pick right up where they left off as though no time passed are sacred and precious. Love is love is love. And the strength and power of that love can survive time apart.

What do I think about being fifty?
I am looking forward to being in a new home with my precious husband! A home we built together, and for each other. The physical manifestation of how our daily life together has become just we two.
I’m eager to explore more opportunities to learn and grow as a human. As a writer. As a photographer. As a mother. As a grandmother. As a wife. As a teacher.

I look at my life on either side of this number and more than anything I feel gratitude. I feel love. I feel empowered.

I’m grateful that every decision I’ve made, good, bad, indifferent, has brought me to this point in my life. I’m grateful to have the ability to make new decisions as I move forward. I’m grateful to have just the right number, but even more importantly, just the right sort of people in my world as I continue my life journey. I’m grateful to honor from where I come as I move forward and continue becoming.

Love is the watchword. Everything I do comes from a place of love. I strive to receive everything in love. Without love I would be nothing. Love is truly the greatest gift.

Empowered. This is a word I’ve used a decent amount in my lifetime, but I’ve not always felt it. I feel it keenly now. I am empowered by the culmination of all my experience, by the enthusiasm with which I look at my future.
I know I can do what I need to do. I know I can do what I want to do.
I know I can.
I can and I will.

Fifty sounds cool.
Like, some sort of leveling up.
My sass and smarts. My joy and pain. My love and gratitude. All sort of becoming more solid somehow.
For what more could I ask on my birthday?

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

moderate f**k distribution

Sundance sent this to me via text message late last night.
My initial reaction was a giggle, followed by an Amen.
But as I considered it further, I began to realize it’s an extremely important skill, this moderate fuck distribution.
I mean, really. This is key!
Fuck-giving is a double edged sword. Too much or not enough can kill you.
It is truly all about that sweet spot of fuck-giving.

Giving too many fucks or giving no fucks is not sustainable in the long term.
Giving too many can cause you to lose your damn mind worrying unnecessarily. I mean, who has that kind of time and energy? Giving too many fucks will wear you slap out, nothing should require that much of your attention.
Giving none pretty much means you’ve just shut down. That you’re probably abstaining from interacting with others. And while that may sound good on paper, life doesn’t really work that way.
So the real trick is to decide your own personal fuck-giving threshold.

This is my hand.
In this hand is all the fucks I have to give for the rest of my life.
Because I plan to live another fifty years or so, I need to find my fuck-giving sweet spot. Don’t want to run out of fucks to give. Neither do I want to end my life with ungiven fucks.
Whatever I choose to give a fuck about has to really earn it.
Whatever I choose not to give a fuck about probably won’t miss it.

Moderation is pretty much just avoiding extremes and committing to a comfortable balance.
Moderation is supposed to be a super healthy way to live one’s life.
Therefore I shall attempt this middle ground in which I give the perfect amount of fucks.

Y’all, some days you just have to laugh at the thoughts that hatch!

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , | 14 Comments

l-i-v-i-n

It’s not about revenge. This is because life is not a contest. It’s your life. The only one you’re going to get.
Pay attention!
You gotta live that life with an unparalleled immediacy and authenticity. In that, there is no time for revenge. Only time to be your glorious self.
Fulfill your dreams.
Actively live your passions.
Let your freak flag fly.

And when you’re a successful human, and by that I mean living your best possible life with joy and verve, that’s when you know it doesn’t matter.
Revenge is meaningless when you’re focused on looking forward. Moving forward means you’re not looking back.
Revenge is most definitely looking back.
Traps you.
Keeps you stuck.

They say, ‘revenge is a dish best served cold’.
You know why they say that?
It’s not what you think…
For me, it’s that revenge gets cold because you become so enthusiastically occupied with your own life you completely forget the initial desire to serve it.
It makes no kind of sense to waste your energy seeking revenge. Seems to me that’s just you handing over your power. You need your power to do all your cool life things!
And consider this, if someone or something was so awful you feel the need to seek revenge, do you want that one or thing to control your power?
No!

Your life is a precious gift! Focus on living it with all the love, grace, and gratitude humanly possible.

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , | 5 Comments

the power of forgiveness

As far as I can tell, this holds true for each and every one of us.
It’s easy to want to rid yourself of the ‘bad things’. It’s actually rather simple to begin the process. But what happens when you just destroy your monsters without really examining them? I agree with Erin. I think you have to really understand your monsters before you can kick them in the ass. With examination comes the ability to truly understand. Understand not only your monsters, but yourself.
Knowing and understanding oneself is a pretty scary concept. I think that’s why it’s simpler to choose to destroy that which we don’t like about our selves. Destroying those monsters (or demons, or whatever you like to call them) is freeing! We’re so strong! To rid yourself of the absolute worst bits is a truly empowering experience.
But it’s fleeting, y’all.

Let’s be real, the majority of the monsters inside you originated externally. They were formed in childhood, they exist as part of your belief system. But at some point these monsters are nourished by you. You’ve grown accustomed to them. Sometimes so much so that your belief system becomes dependent upon them.
The most elaborately designed catch 22 in the history of all catch 22s. You and the monsters are trapped together, woven into one curious being because of mutually conflicting and dependent conditions.

Once (most of us) realize we’re dependent upon these monsters that conflict with our concept of self our simplest solution is to rid ourselves of our monsters for good.
Destroying your monsters without accepting and releasing them leads to more chaos down the road. To know the monsters, to really know them is hard and scary work. Most folks aren’t brave enough to tackle that.
Here’s whats tricky. That bravery is really reactivity in disguise.
As humans, we tend to be reactive.
What we need to be is mindful.
I get it, y’all! It really does feel brave to destroy those monsters. But going about it all willy-nilly, slashing and stabbing and standing over your (seemingly) dead monsters is a delusion!
They’re not really gone.
Sure, you may feel victorious, bathing in their heart’s blood as empowered as you’ve ever been, but I promise you they’ll be back. It may seem different versions, but it’s the same old monsters dressed up all shiny and new. And because they exist based on rigid belief systems they come back stronger and meaner than before. This fight will never end.

This is where being mindful comes in.
Until you understand and make peace with your monsters, you’re destined to lather, rinse and repeat for your entire life. (And after bathing in heart’s blood, you better be washing that gore right out of your hair!)

The monsters don’t function from their own cognition. They function from the oldest patterns. The monsters aren’t actively malevolent. They’re just doing what they’ve always done. What they were trained to do by others before we learned to take over that job.
Destroying your monsters will ultimately destroy the precious me inside you.
We cannot truly embrace the me inside us unless and until we accept and understand our monsters.
It’s the most difficult work you’ll ever do.
That is what makes one brave.
It’s easy to slay dragons (monsters)! That’s just a bit of blood, sweat and tears with a sharp blade at the end.

But to examine those monsters, to do the hard work to understand their very existence, that is real bravery. By being mindful and doing the most difficult work, we can accept and release our monsters.
Forgiveness is harder than slaying.
The monsters didn’t create themselves. They simply exist.
We must forgive those who may have created the monsters in the first place. We must forgive that part of ourselves that fostered the monsters growth.

The most precious part of who I am is that me. By learning to embrace and celebrate that me, I was able to understand and accept my monsters. I work each day to forgive them, even though it’s not their fault.
I promise you, I’m a better me for it.
A better human for it.

My bravest moments are ones of forgiveness. (even though I didn’t feel particularly brave)
Yours can be too.

Stop looking outward. Stop pointing fingers and laying blame. Stop picking up your sword.
Forgive your monsters and set them free. They’re just as much prisoners of the belief system as you are.
Forgive yourself and accept that your me wouldn’t exist without your monsters.
Embrace and celebrate the me.
Be the me inside you with grace and humility, and as much love as humanly possible.

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

the trick is knowing how to look for it

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I came across this Jac Vanek quote on Pinterest (I think? Maybe?) and I kind of dug it.
It sounds like me. It pretty much encapsulates the way I think and feel about life. We are the sum of our experiences, but I believe it’s how we choose to incorporate them into who we are that really counts.

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Inspiration is all around us.
The trick is knowing how to look for it.

And remember, even Hannah Montana sang,

“Life’s what you make it, so let’s make it rock!”

(You may be having a pretty big WTF? moment right now. Asking yourself why I’m quoting Hannah Montana. Well, the girls were the right age to watch Disney channel shows when they were still fairly decent. The moment I began this post, this song came into my head. Just be glad I didn’t post the video.)

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

mother’s day

I struggle with Mother’s Day.
My birthday is always the week of Mother’s Day. Sometimes even falls on that particular Sunday. I don’t remember it bothering me until I became a mom. First one precious little girl and later, two precious little girls called me their mommy. They were SO focused and excited about Mother’s Day that my birthday often fell by the wayside.
When they got old enough to understand, I explained how much I loved their beautiful appreciation of me. I explained that I was their mommy every day. That it was the most special thing EVERY DAY. But that my birthday was only one day and it was special. It took a bit for them to get it, but they knew how important I made their birthdays and they began to come around. So while Mother’s Day remained special, “birthday birthday” became the focus that second week of May.

Mother’s Day is painful for me because I don’t have my mom anymore. However complicated our relationship was, she was my mother and I loved her.
I took Thing C and Thing G to get cards for their mom. I went with YBW to get a card for his mom. I spent the day with YBW and his mom.
It was agony.
I no longer have a mom. It hurts more than I can even communicate.
Thing 1 called to tell me Happy Mother’s Day. She thanked me for being her mom. She talked about the life she’s building. She talked about going back to school. She told me she sent a little gift, but it was going to be late. She told me how much she loved me.
My heart sang with joy!
Thing 2 did nothing. (I don’t know if she was being purposefully hurtful or not…I honestly don’t think it matters. It was hurtful enough.) People that I did not actually give birth to called and texted to wish me Happy Mother’s Day. I’m just sayin’.

When my girls were little and I was teaching preschool, I was blessed to be surrounded by some of the most truly awe inspiring women I’ve ever known.
We were a family. If something happened to one of us, joy or sorrow, it happened to all of us. These women helped me realize who I could be. They let me help them see things from my unique and sometimes brash perspective. (I may or may not have publicly accused the director of being on crack at a faculty meeting…in my defense, it opened a new way of talking about a serious topic.)

When I started this blog I promised my family and friends anonymity. That’s why I never use anyone’s real name…apart from my own. My girls and Sundance have expressed their ambivalence regarding this promise. I keep it because YBW is especially protective of his identity, and the identity of his sons. I respect that. Nobody “signed up” to be part of my public words regarding my private life. I want to keep those who need to feel safe feeling safe.
That said, I’m going to use the names of the women from that perfect moment in time when we lived and loved and worked in the safest and most creative environment.

It kind of started this way:
On Sunday, Nicole posted in our private group chat:
HAPPY MOTHERS DAY!!! I would not have survived young motherhood without you all!!

I was thinking something along those lines when I was washing my hair that morning. I was thinking about some of the women that influenced my life. What I learned from each of them and how I incorporated that into my parenting style, and into my own personal development.

I learned from my mom that always having to be in control will wear you the eff out. That it breaks you and makes you miserable. My mom taught me the value of creativity and expressing opinions because she squashed those out of us as children. She taught me that love is conditional, you must be exactly what someone wants or they can’t love you.
She taught me that you just have to keep fighting for what you believe in. She taught me what true sacrifice looks like. She taught me that a color book and box of crayons eases heartache. She taught me that birthdays are the most important celebration, because the day you came into the world is sacred. She taught me to love books. She taught me Elvis is the King. She taught me that being redhaird is the most precious gift, and that only a few of us ever have the luxury to receive it.
Some of the things she taught me made me a better mom because I did the exact opposite of what she did. Love is unconditional. Creativity and expressing yourself are the most important life stills to possess.
Some of what she taught me formed my most basic ideology. Birthdays are sacred. New crayons are priceless. Books are uniquely portable magic.

Nicole taught me that organized chaos is a great way to raise children. She taught me that love is fierce. She showed me how to see things through the eyes of a child. She taught me the value of true and long lasting friendship.

Jessica taught me that I was more capable than I ever realized. She taught me to listen differently so I could truly hear. She taught me to ask the most important question: What’s best for children? She taught me the value of my own mothering. She taught me when life hands you lemons, make lemonade. She helped me believe in myself at the lowest point in my life. She showed me the fire in my belly still had embers to nurture. She loved me when I couldn’t love myself.

Becca encouraged me to trust my gut, because she never seemed to be able to do that for herself. She taught me to appreciate every contribution. She brought out even more nurturing in me, she needed and still occasionally needs to be taught self-love. She taught me how innocent kindness can change lives. She taught me that my tough as nails hide could benefit from softening up a bit.

Terri taught me to see my firstborn in a new and different light. She provided much comfort and support when I was struggling with learning how to mom a three year old and a new and extremely sick baby. She was an example of love and tenacity through her own terrible illness. She taught me how to approach the enigma that is the three year old with the perfect mix of fear and appreciation.

Nancy taught me that I must embrace and celebrate my gifts. She is the first person who said out loud that I am a writer. That moment caused a change in my life that I will be forever grateful for. She supported me with love and hope when I didn’t know who or what I really was. She taught me that life is so much more than simply putting one foot in front of the other.

Marianne taught me that letting go is so much better than holding on too tightly. She taught me the importance of repetition. She helped me realize that a classroom was one of the most loving environments in the world.

Cory taught me that I matter. She helped me understand how to be a mom and a real person too. She accepted me for who I am. She guided my learning of that most important skill. I’m not great at it, but I am working at it every single day…even all these years later.

Julia encouraged me to take risks. She helped me realize that fear is a part of life, but if I didn’t try new things I might miss out on something extraordinary. She taught me a new kind of patience.

Sara gave me the courage to breathe when I needed to take a step back. She showed me the importance of kindness when Thing 2 and I experienced serious separation anxiety.

Like Nicole, I would never have gotten through young motherhood without these women. The gifts they gave me have gotten me through the last twenty two years.
It takes a village to raise children.
It takes a village to raise parents too.

I’m so blessed to know and love these women. I would not be the woman I am without experiencing their love and support.
I saw Becca this weekend, we talked about how those years were a sacred moment in time. We will never be able to recreate that, but we’re lucky enough to forever be better mothers and better women because of it.

Categories: education, love, me, on being a mom | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

every moment is a blessing

I spent time with my former co-teacher today. She’s going through a particularly vile divorce. It breaks my heart for her and her little daughter. I can’t really do anything to help, all I can do is love them.
But spending time with her today made me appreciate that I’m me and not anyone else. That may seem like a ridiculous thing to say, but I cannnot mean it any more.

I’ve been through seriously dreadful times in my life. I’ve been through moments of great wonder. Everything I’ve experienced in my life, every single moment, the good, the bad, the indifferent, has shaped me into who I am right now. Honestly I’m grateful I’ve had all this opportunity to throw so much paint at my life’s great big canvas.

I’ve obviously experienced a great deal of joy, especially recently.
Even the undiagnosed brain swelling is teaching me to remain present by listening carefully to what my body is telling me. Something I’ve not really done before. It’s easy to ignore your body when you’re more focused on everyone else.

I don’t know if my feeling hopeful has me feeling so appreciative of being me or if I’m just glad my troubles have been mine and not the troubles of anyone else. I don’t think it really matters.

We all have moments we would like to hand over to another. Any other. But when it comes right down to it there is always something better or worse being experienced by any other person at those very same moments. I remember this with great humility. My worst moments could be another’s best moments or my best moments could be meaningless to another.

I am grateful for every single one of my moments. I could never be the woman I am if I hadn’t experienced the moments of my life. It may have taken forty four years, but I rather like the woman I am!

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