And the point is?

     

This is a question I ask myself quite often these days.  Especially as I sit here at 6 am, up since 4, not being able to sleep.  I strained my back yesterday helping my husband bring up a box of photo albums.  I have 20 photo albums in all.  They serve as reminders of days gone by.  What is my obsession with the past?  Although I enjoy looking at the pictures, they keep me in the past, and I miss the present.  Obviously though there is something I do not like about the present, or I would not be looking at the past.  We all have a past.  We enjoy reminiscing about the good times and not so good times.  Sometimes we try to "up" each other with our stories of woes or accomplishments, but to what end?  

     To function in this particular world, we must learn.  Learn how to speak, read, count, spell, work a computer or whatever functions our jobs may require us to learn, all so we can have a place to live, eat, do things, buy stuff.  Living in the apartment, I cannot buy much, and I continue to purge, but I still find myself drawn to the stores, to look, to touch, to want.  I don't know if it so much that I want more "stuff" or that I want to be around others like me without having to "be" around them.  We are all shuffling about, minding our own business, but all feeling together as we do it together alone.   

     I have read many points of view of what our life is supposed to be about, not all of them, but so far none of them ring true.  Oh I do get on kicks of, "That's it!  That's what I'm existing for!", but after awhile I grow weary of that existence.  And so what happens when we grow weary of our existence?  Anther one comes our way?  These are questions I ponder when I cannot sleep, when I am not busy doing nothing.  Or when I am busy doing nothing and I wonder why or what I am doing it for.  

     Don't get me wrong, I have my moments of complete surrender to the Universe, where beauty is everywhere, where I feel I am connected to everything.  And maybe that is the point, to get to that place where I am connected at all times.  But then how or why did I ever disconnect?  There is one belief that we were at one time connected with All That IS, but then decided to break away and find out for ourselves what "It" was all about, but then find that we are always searching for a way back to "It."  There is a another belief that Life lives itself through us, through our experiences, but then what happens if we no longer want to live that life that Life is living through us?  And still more beliefs, more stories, to the point of confusion as to what it is we are really about. 

     I am trying to reason with myself to not post this, not that many people read it, but some may think this is a "negative" blog (but then who decides what is positive or negative?), some may think "That girl is lost", or has "lost it", some may say they can show me the way, the truth and the light, and others will just see it as rantings of another lunatic. I don't know where the words come from, or the thoughts, all I know is that they need to be written, released from me to somewhere out there.  

     Release.  Let Go.  Surrender.  Deep breath.  Peace. 

Everyday is a New Chapter

 
  Almost everyday for the last three weeks I have done a daily meditation.  The days I do not meditate, I feel a difference, I am out of sorts, life seems a little rougher.  Yesterday morning I did not meditate.  There was a little chaos at the house, and I did not seem to be able to find the 15 minutes of alone time I needed before I headed to work.  I guess I could have sat in my car before work and done it, but the thought did not cross my mind until right now.  At work, things seemed jumbled, frustrations were many.  I find when I meditate, the frustrations do not bother me as much.  I can accept them for what they are, tiny distractions of time that take peace from me.  I had to laugh when a moment of "angst" showed up, and I reprimanded myself for not taking the time to meditate.  It reminded of when my son was in kindergarten and he was always getting his "bunny" hopped.  This was not a good thing.  After much yelling, scolding and punishment; which none seemed to work, we started praying the Rosary on the way to school.  It was a twenty minute drive, so we usually got through the first section.  It seemed to help.  One day, for reasons I do not remember, we did not say the Rosary.  He got his bunny hopped. When I picked him up from school, he remarked, "I got my bunny hopped today because we didn't pray."  We then had a discussion of self responsibility, that he was always responsible for his actions, whether I prayed with him or not, and that he also always had the option to pray, silently if he needed to.  I wish this talk had been the end of it, but he got his bunny hopped many times more, and still does only in different ways.

     We all want that magic feather that Dumbo had.  That magic pill that will help us lose weight, that lottery winning that will pay all our bills, that true love that will take away our loneliness. There is not one, I've tried.  Meditation to me is not a magic pill, all my problems do not "magically" go away because I meditate, but I do seem to be able to see situation from a different perspective, and approach situations with a much better understanding of what is happening, coming from a place of strength and peace rather than pain and fear.  

     My taking 15 minutes everyday to sit down with myself, for myself, for no other reason than to connect with the eternal Source that is always with me, is my gift to myself.  And by doing so I reap the benefits of peace, joy, calm and others reap those benefits too.  It is a continuous process, this me trying to figure out Me.  Everyday is new chapter, and the story just keeps getting better and better!

Moments

 
  I have asked for a lot of things in my lifetime.  I have asked for situations to happen, for situations to be over, for certain people to be in my life, and for others to no longer be.  I have asked for countless presents as a child, and actually still do, although most of the presents I ask for, I buy myself.  That is the part about being an adult that kind of is great.  Other parts of being grown up- having to pay for all those things I want, not so great.  As I grow older, I find myself not asking for "things" but rather feelings, feelings of peace, joy, contentment.  I have come to realize that for the most part "those things" are not what bring those feelings.  Oh contentment may come with a cup of hot chocolate warmly sitting in my stomach, but it is a fleeting moment.  But then are not all moments fleeting?  Sometimes I get so caught up in not wanting the moment to end that I forget to enjoy the moment itself.
     I remember my daughter dancing in the Nutcracker when she was younger and I was taping it so we could watch it again.  I was lucky that she had several performances and I realized I was not really enjoying her dancing while video taping.  I do not think we ever actually watched the video tape.  So many moments we want to catch to relive them but we never can.  The moment is gone.  It is nice to look back at pictures and remember times, but the majority of pictures I have of my family are posed. "Hey, look at the camera.", we all smile and then go back to what we were doing, which may or may not have been a happy moment.  We are conditioned to smile, well at least adults are, kids will do what they want, when someone is taking our picture.  Why is that?  Is it because we do not want anyone to see who we really are?, what we are really thinking?, that for the most part we do not really want to be there, but some unseen force has drawn us to the situation we are in and we are making the best of it?  I admit, I like looking at a picture where someone is smiling.  It makes me feel good inside, and maybe invokes a smile inside of me.  I doubt anyone really wants to feel anger, fear, unhappiness, I know I don't.
    I still ask for a lot.  Just tonight I was looking out my apartment balcony and felt a pang of loneliness for the stars.  It is a cloudy evening, but even on a clear night, we may see 10-12 stars, because of all the bright lights of the city.  I wondered while I was contemplating on how I missed the stars if they missed me?  If they missed the wonder I would invoke at looking at them, how I would talk to them as if they were my friends, and ask pondering questions of them.  Why I think they would answer I don't know, but for some reason they brought peace to my Soul.  I look forward to the day when I can stand on a balcony and see millions of stars and talk to them again.  I know I can talk to them now, but it is not the same.  Just as we can talk to a loved one that has passed, or even a friend that has moved away, but it is not the same as being in their presence.  
     I am listening to Christmas music as I write this, even though it is only November 8th.  It is one of the many modern marvels that allows me to listen to any kind of music, anytime I want.  Christmas music evokes certain memories, ones I choose to remember, candy coated as they may seem.  First, as a child waiting for that one Christmas present that I had asked Santa for, and then watching my

children open their presents when they got what they asked for.  I was recently told by my kids that they always opened all the gifts after I went bed, and then rewrapped them.  I am glad I did not know they were doing it at the time.  The moment would have been spoiled for me.  So then that makes me think, was the moment for them or for me?
     So back to moments.  So fleeting.  Our lives are made up of one moment at a time.  As I get older, the moments seem more precious than when I was younger.  It may be the fact that I know that my moments are limited.  As a youngster, we do not think of such things, at least we should not have too.
Enjoy your moments.  They are so precious and so few.  

Where is your attention?

    

    My cat knows something is up.  I am getting things ready to go to my daughter's for her wedding this weekend.  I am cleaning, preparing, doing laundry, making sure things are in order.  We live in a small space, so my cat, Jasmine, knows where I am most of the time.  She lost track of me this morning and I saw her walking into my bedroom pensively, ears twitching, listening, looking, wondering.  I called to her and she came running, meowing, tail straight up, as if to say, "I thought you were gone."  I was close all the time.  This is how I feel sometimes when I am not connected with my Creator.  I have a moment of panic, fear takes over and the mind starts it chattering.  And then I stop, listen, breathe and feel.  Sometimes it takes more than that, I rant and rave first, frustration ringing out from me, only to hear a quiet prodding, "I'm here, I never left, you just let your attention go in a different direction."
     We have all felt human disconnection at one time or another, or a multitudes of times; the first time your mother leaves without you, your child's first day away from you, a friend moves away, your lover goes on a trip.  We like being connected as social media has so well shown.  But in the end, who are we really trying to connect with?  Are the disconnections in our lives a way to show us that although the person we are missing may be not in our physical presence, we always have a deeper connection with something else that is much more glorious?

Absence makes the heart grow fonder......

    

 Absence makes the heart grow fonder.  We've all heard this phrase before and most likely felt it.  It is used most used in romantic or family relationships contexts.  But what if this was the reason we are here?  On this earth, in this place that we do not understand with all its complexities, twist and turns.  When we are with someone we love we sometimes forget what they bring to the relationship, how much richer our lives are for their presence. Familiarity and habit tend to make us unappreciative of what we have.  But it seems when they are away, we are more able to delve into why it is they are in our lives and that longing we feel to have them back is that feeling of what is missing when they are gone.  I'll be honest, I do not feel this way about all the people that have come into my life.  
     Sometimes absence brings healing.  Being away from a situation or certain people brings clarity, we may have needed them in our lives at that moment, we must have, or they would not have been there. Not all people are meant to be lifelong participants in our short lives in this world.  As I am writing this, the phone rings and my husband calls to talk to me.  He has been gone 3 days.  He calls me everyday, yesterday 3 times.  It reminds me of our deep commitment to each other, we've been married 33 years, a blessed relationship where we have learned to support each other through life's ups and downs, and continue to learn.
     There is another relationship that is more intimate and has been with me since my beginning.  There are tons of arguments of just when that was, but it is a mute point.  The point is this relationship is the most important one of my life.  The one with my Creator.  Although my Creator is always talking to me, I am not always listening.  I can tell when I have stopped.  My life is jagged, hard, wrought with tears, worries and fears.  When I finally stop to listen, life is easier, joyful, fun.  It is always my choice not to listen.  I do not know why I do it, I know the consequences, I feel scattered, unworthy.....just like I know the consequences of eating pizza, I love it, my body not so much, bloated, slow, heavy; the price I pay for enjoying a culinary delight.  When not listening, I wonder what my purpose is, why am I here, what is the point?  As I am drawn back into the loving space that is my Creator, I am filled with peace, excitement and joy.  Why do I not listen all the time?  Is it so I can understand my Creator more?  I sometimes ponder why would anyone in their right mind come to Earth, agree to be Human, knowing they will not have that 100% connection at all times?  I imagine that being at One with my Creator is like bathing in a white light and all there is Love.  I felt this intensely one time, I know it to be true, well at least my truth.  But maybe, just maybe my reason for falling to Earth, (a metaphor for no longer being one with the One), is so I can experience what it feels like not to be "in" 100% love all the time.  That by being away from my Creator, I am learning whom my Creator is.  And who I am.  Sometimes I am the wave reaching for the shore, knowing my destination, other times a wave in the great expanse of the ocean, melding with the other waves on one no particular course.  As I write this, I am in awe and appreciation of the gifts I have been given, the greatest one being this seeking heart.  I seek in the situations created in my life, the people who show up, the animals, the flora, the sky, the very breath I take.  And the journey will continue until I have exhausted every avenue available to me, until I am satisfied that I have experienced my Creator in all ways and I am ready to return home.

Am I The Best Me Possible?

   

 What does it mean to be the best me possible?  I have grown up in a society that always strives for better, bigger, perfection.  Perfection is in the eye of the beholder, but that is not what we are taught.  Who is the beholder?  Is it I or them?  Which one matters?  Growing up it was "their" opinion that counted, was I pretty enough, smart enough, skinny enough, something enough.....to belong in "their" group whatever group that was.  The belonging still goes on.  Am I good enough for this job?  Do I do enough to keep this job, to make my bosses happy....the list continues.  And with family, oh family, that is the kicker.  We do what our parents tell us so that they will either be proud of us, notice us, or not notice us.  That is until we realize that they are just making it up as they go along, as is everyone else, it is just the some people are better bullshitters than other.  There is no group, no perfection, there is just us.  Us, swirling around on this planet, trying to make sense of what is going on, and making it all up along the way.  Some of us make up pleasant stuff, other's not so pleasant stuff.
        I love journals.  Especially new ones.  I have a habit of writing about 20 pages in a journal and then putting it down, and then finding a new, prettier one, one with fresh pages for fresh ideas.  I sometimes go back and read what I have wrote, and lament that I am in the same "space".  Still in debt, still overweight, still not 100% happy.  Although in some of those journals I wish I was that "fat" again which was 30 pounds less than now.  I am learning to not lament in my journals, but to rejoice in what I have and project what I want for the future.  Haven't figure out the time/space continuum as yet to receive what I want in a timely matter, (my time)  but I do have proof in my life that most of what I have asked for, I have received.  Even the things I "didn't ask" for, I did, through my energy and actions.
    Which brings me back to the original question, "Am I the best me possible?" and what does that mean for me.  I have always been the best me possible, because that is who I am.  I struggle, I laugh, I cry, I lament, I sing, I learn.  As I continue to learn and accept who I am, I fall more and more in love with me.  The best me possible.

Memories

     Yes I ate it.  I was at Walmart.  I was hungry.  I had $1.75 in cash.  I have not had a McDonald's cheeseburger probably since 1980 when I worked at McDonalds.  It tasted the exact same as back then.  As I bit into the cheeseburger it took me back to my McDonalds days.  It was my first real job.  I quickly climbed up to the coveted "drive thru" position.  Back then, we had to add up the totals (no computers), so one of the jobs in drive thru when we were not busy was to check the cashier's math on the tickets.  Such power we wielded.  My manager liked me and suggested several times that I should go the McDonald's management school.  I laughed at him and always replied, "I am not working at McDonalds the rest of my life!"  Back then, we were the only restaurant that had a playground so we did a lot of birthday parties.  One day the "birthday party" girl called in sick so I was asked to take her place.  The kids loved me and so did the parents.  They started requesting me specifically.  After about the tenth one, I went to my supervisor and said, "Listen, I don't want to do birthday parties.  The reason I got this job was so I didn't have to babysit brats anymore, and having to babysit 10-15 brats at a time for 2 hours is not my idea of fun."  He took me off the birthday party schedule.  When I look back, he was a good manager, I learned a lot from him, and he must have seen something in me, because I have been in manager's positions for the last ten years.  

     It is amazing how just a smell can take you back in time.  I opened up a bottle of wine the other day, and it smelled like a cabin I used to visit.  It was a very pleasant memory.  I tried to discern the smell, old wood, wood polish, varnish, musty.  The wine was bad, I could not drink it, but I was happy for the memory.  Memories are what hold us together.  We keep them safe within ourselves, until we dare to share them with someone who will accept them, laugh with us or cry along with us. Writing this takes me back to a Paul Anka song, "Times of Your Life".  I pulled it up on You Tube,and cried while listening to it.  I haven't heard that song in probably 20 years, but yet, knew all the words and felt the same emotions.  Funny thing is, each moment is a memory in the making.  And these days we are able to keep those memories clearer with cameras on our phones and sharing applications such as Facebook, Instagram and others.  And why do we share our memories?  Is it because we wish our families and friends were there to enjoy the moment or is it a shout out to the World, "I am here, I exist, I am real".?

I manifested a Pool Boy.

 

 
     I manifested a pool boy.  It took me 10 years to do it, but it still happened.  When we lived in Stonewall, my husband always talked about wanting a pool, but as we lived on 12 acres and the rest of the area around us was farmland, all I could think about was all the wild animals, raccoons, armadillos, coyotes and such visiting our pool and what a mess it would be.  I was emphatic about stating that if we ever had a pool, we would also have a pool boy. When we moved from Stonewall to Bulverde we bought a house with a pool, with the understanding that I would never have to clean it.  The yard work and vehicles were my husbands's responsibility while I took care of the house and laundry.  In the 6 years we lived there I think I only skimmed it about 10 times.  I was the only one who ever swam in the pool.  My husband and son would use it as a cooling off after a hot day outside with their favorite alcoholic beverages.  I usually stayed away because it was always fun for them to take turns splashing me or trying to dunk me.  Not fun, at least for me.  I did get in once in awhile with just my husband, he wasn't so inclined to pick on me without backup support.  I usually swam in the morning on my days off when no one was home.  I had to skim a little, depending on what the weather was like the night before.  I enjoyed my swims by myself, well, not really by myself, the cats and the dog would come watch, and the dog would constantly follow me while I swam, we had a game, I would swim to one end of the pool, she would meet me there, I would pet her or kiss her on the nose and then she would run to the other end of the pool and wait for me.  It was good exercise for me and her.  Then I would just float in the middle, it was the one place in the backyard that the animals couldn't get to me.  I enjoyed the birds flying around and just nature being nature.
    We live in the apartment now and have a beautiful pool.  Every morning between 8:30 and 9:30, the pool boy cleans the pool, on Fridays he puts shock on the pool so it is not swimable until around 10:00, which is usually about the time I get to the pool anyway.  For the last 3 weeks I have swam/walked laps in the pool and then enjoyed the hot tub.  This week has been fabulous, as the weather has been cool (for Grapevine, 84 in the morning) and I have had the pool area all to myself.  It has been glorious.  Last night I was told it was going to be a stormy day.  I woke up at 7 am and thought to myself, I should go to the pool before it starts raining and before the pool boy puts the shock treatment in.  As I was walking to the pool, it started sprinkling and I started laughing thinking to myself, "I am going to get wet anyway."  It stopped when I got to the pool.  The lower pool where I do my laps was full of flower petals-very romantic, and June bugs, not so romantic.  I pushed on.  I have been trying to do 15 laps, but I only did 10 laps as I was getting tired of trying to swim around dead bugs.  I walked to the upper pool, and it was clean, so did 10 smaller laps in there.  I had noticed when I first got to the pool, that the deck was in a disarray, as it usually is before the pool boy cleans it up.  Chairs were moved, garbage everywhere, glass bottles (a big no no at a pool) strewn about.  It made me angry.  I was thinking to myself, "Every morning he has to come and clean this mess up because people can't put their garbage away."  This train of thought was definitely ruining my morning swim, which had already been irritated by all the dead bugs.  Then I started to think about why I was so angry.  This did not concern me, I didn't know how the pool boy felt about picking up garbage and straightening up the deck, I can't imagine why anyone would like to clean up other people's messes, I don't, but then I started laughing, "Shannon, you manifested this pool boy.  You do not know his story.  You do not know anyone else's story, you just know yours."  I started tapping, (EFT-Emotional Freedom Technique-look it up-it is a great tool for self discovery), "These people, These people who don't put stuff away, These strangers who don't put stuff away, Didn't their mother teach them?, Co-workers who don't put stuff away, Family members who don't put stuff away....tap, tap, tap.....It is not my business, I can enjoy life without them having to put stuff away, I can enjoy life, I can enjoy my life, I enjoy life."  By the end of the tapping session, I felt much better.
     As I write this blog, a huge thunderstorm has come.  I am grateful that I got up this morning and went swimming, I am grateful that there were bugs and a disarray on the deck, I am grateful because it all led to a little more release of things that are not mine to carry, and I am truly, truly grateful for a pool boy!

A $5.00 bill

 

 Saturday before I left work I let my co-workers know that a group at a table had paid for all their drinks, and I had noticed that one of them was leaving a $5.00 tip on the table.  One of the group had already left a tip, so I put the tip I received in an envelope and asked my co-workers that whomever cleaned the table to please put the $5.00 in the envelope so I could split it with everyone on my next day when I was working.  When I came in on Monday, I saw the envelope in my locker, but the $5.00 bill was not in it.  I was immediately miffed.  I don't know who cleaned the table, and who knows, maybe the customer decided not to leave it after all.  I do not know the circumstances.  All I know is that I was upset.  So I went to how I was feeling; upset, churning, how dare they take the $5.00 tip that I had worked so hard for and was going to split with everyone anyway.  Then softness came, and a voice came, "It was only $5.00, and if a co-worker took it, they needed it more than you, let it go." Not long after having this conversation with myself, a young man walked in with a tray of homemade banana bread that his church group had made to help families in need.  Guess how much it was?  $5.00.  Of course I bought one.  The irony did not escape me.  I was able to easily give him the $5.00 for a "good" cause, but had a problem with the thought that someone had taken "MY" $5.00 bill.  Each and every situation that happens to me, be it good or bad (my perspective), is there to allow me to experience, to feel, to expand, to understand.  Sometimes all it takes is $5.00 bill.

Irritation

    

 There are people in my life that irritate me.  I recently had a situation where the person I was around was really grating on my last nerve and then they did a little action that really set me off.  I stormed off.  I said a little snide remark as I walked away just for dramatics, but I am sure it made no difference to them.  The situation continued to haunt me, playing over and over in my head, even though I tried my best to think other thoughts. I did do quite a few Meta meditations on this person- "May you be happy, may you be healthy, may you be safe, may you live your life with ease", as well as on myself until my mind quieted down. I finally decided to dissect the situation.  I was berating myself because if this person made me so mad about something that really made no difference in my life at all, how was I able to love and accept those who were very different from me, with different colors, languages and customs.  After all, I promote peace and love all the time, reposting positive affirmations; "We are all one", "Forgiveness is the key", "Love is the answer", and many more.  As I continued on this train of thought, I realized I was more upset at myself than the other person.  I had allowed myself the feeling of "How dare you", but then I started thinking about my Creator.  In my mind, my Creator loves all life, no ifs, ands or buts.  No matter the circumstance.  My Creator created this person, or there was co-creation, this soul and the Creator.  In that line of thought, then it was this soul's purpose to be this personality, to experience life in their way, not my way.  Mind blowing, at least for me.  The key word for me was personality.  I was not appreciating or accepting the way this person chose to live their life, I was not accepting the Creator was enjoying this personality.  Just because I was not enjoying it, does not mean someone else was not.  Heady stuff, at least for me.  I understand a little more about myself, this being said, it does not mean I will go out of my way to be around this person, they still annoy me, but an understanding is there now that I can only see getting bigger and bigger and love replacing judgement, one experience at a time.

A Sting

 
 Today while walking back from the apartment pool, I was stung by an insect.  I did not see it, I felt it and immediately swatted it from the back of my leg.  I did not react in my usual way of blaming the Universe for the sting, asking, "why, oh why would this happen to me?", I just noticed it.  I felt it.  I wondered what had stung me, and kind of felt sorry for what stung me, who knows, I might have just walked into its path and messed up its day.  I did make a plan of action for when I got back to the apartment; find my Thieves essential oil and take a Benedryl. I have had allergic reactions to bee stings before, so I take a Benedryl now just so I do not end up in the emergency room later.  After making my plan of actin, I continued to marvel at how calm I was.  I was thinking, "I am the only one experiencing this sting at this time.  It is just a sting.  No more, no less."  When I had been stung previously, there were tears, there were threats to the whole insect world and then a thinking of why did I get stung, was the Universe trying to converse with me through a sting?
    It was just a sting.  It happened.  But it is not happening now.  Yes, there is a welt and swelling of sorts, but the actual sting, it is over.  It got me to wondering where did I learn that a sting is bad?  Where did I pick up that getting stung should never happen to me?  I live in a world of constant danger, stings, bites, animals, people.  All seem out to get me.  Or so it would seem if listening to the banter on TV.  Nothing is out to get me.  Life just is.  My actions or reactions to Life is how I perceive it, either through a lens of something is out to get me, or what a beautiful world, where an insect sting can cause me to stop and think how wonderful this world is.  I can truly say I am not happy about being stung, I am not very tolerant of pain, it is something I try to avoid, but when it does happen I am grateful because it does bring me back to present moment and remind me of my humanness.  Maybe that is what is meant by living in this world but not of it the world.  

The Price of Being Human

 
 It was tragic.  It is tragic.  One man responsible for the deaths of 49 people and injury of countless others.  Or so it seems.  It never is just one person that is involved.  It was all the people that one person was around, who influenced them, who helped them gain access to ways of killing others.  911 was tragic and still is.  Every war is tragic.  All the people that died and for what?  To prove a point?  A cry for help?  Why does any human being have the urge or the want to kill another human being for that matter?  Killing and hurting each other has been going on since the very beginning, whenever that was, and people kill and hurt to prove that point too.  Humans die every day, in fact according to Ecology.com, 55.3 million people die per year, the news could not possibly cover all of the deaths and the multitude of ways humans die; they pick and choose who we see that died and how they died.  The news covers the sports hero, the actor/actress, the politician and maybe a human interest story (their words, their choice).  I am not saying that I will not cry when someone whom I hold dearly in my heart dies, no matter how they die, I will.  I will miss them, I will miss the personality of their being, but I do not believe it will cause me to want to harm another person because of their death.  Death is inevitable.  We as humans know this.  Our time will come.  The majority of us do not know when, so why is it such a surprise when it happens?  Why the ranting and the raving?  Is it because it causes us to face our own mortality?  You hear phrases such as, "Cut down in the prime of life", "Gone too young", but who is making these judgments?  Who is too young, what age is ok to die?  From what vantage point are we making these decisions on how long these people should live?  We have a fascination with life and death.  We are constantly bombarded (well at least here in the Western world) on how to look younger, live longer; eat this, don't eat that, take this pill, use this cream, all in the hopes of holding off death.
      I struggle with all of this.  I struggle with some of my family and friends who are devout Christians, who are good people, but who have no problem "protecting themselves and their things" from others, in anyway possible.  I was brought up in a Christian faith.  My understanding of the Crucifixion and Resurrection was that death was not real.  It is just the price of being human.  There are many other religions, actually according to Wikipedia, around 4200, and they all have some differing beliefs on the reason why we are here and why we die.  They give us a reference point.  According to science (another religion?) we are orbiting the sun at around 67,000 miles per hour.   What do all these figures mean?   Nothing really.  They are all mind games as John Lennon so poetically put into words.  As I am writing this, I am having a deep profound love for the human race and I am going to sit and revel in this feeling because I know it is fleeting and I realize how life is just so tragically beautiful.

Mother of the Bride

 
  I am always surprised on how the Universe works in my favor.  I should not be.  After 54 years of existence on this planet called Earth, I would of thought that miracles were an everyday occurrence and should come as no surprise, they are actually part of life.  I did not think about this stuff as a child. I just knew that is how the world worked and I do not recall when I stopped believing in them.  I do remember when I started believing again, when I had children and stayed home with them until they were old enough to go to school, everyday was a miracle that I lived through it.  Not that my kids were bad, as kids go, they were pretty good, but still.  I did start praying more when I had them, for them and for me.  And sometimes when I had a moment to contemplate I realized that although I had not paid attention to all the miracles happening in my life, they were still happening.  To paraphrase Albert Einstein, "You either believe everything is a miracle or nothing is."  As I get older, I notice miracles more often or maybe it is I expect miracles more often, but I am still surprised when they hit me in the face like a brick wall, well maybe more like a soft sponge.
     I was having trouble with a personality at work.  They were brass, loud, opinionated, took over the whole room and just plain annoying.  My perception was making my days at work unpleasant.  I had just finished a book by Dan Harris, "10% Happier", (I strongly recommend reading it ) and he mentioned a meditation called "Meta Meditation".  I had read about the meditation before and since it was very recent, I paid attention.  In a nutshell the mediation goes:  "May you be happy, may you be healthy, may you be safe and may you live your life with ease."  The instructions are to start with yourself, then a mentor, a friend, a neutral person, a difficult person and then all beings.  Since I tend to make my own rules (which is why Algebra and I have never been friends), I did the meditation on this so called difficult person at work, about 3 days ago.  I did notice the next day that she was much less annoying, that a shift had taken place.  Yesterday she brought me a gift out of the blue, a pin that said, "Mother of the Bride", stating, "You can wear this at your daughter's bridal shower next weekend.".  I would not normally wear something so blingy, but you bet I will be wearing it.  The gift was such a small gesture, but to me it was another nod from the Universe stating, "Good job, keep up the great work!"  So, to all that read this blog and others it may reach from wherever this blog goes to into the black hole of the web:  May you be happy.  May you be healthy.  May you be safe.  May you live your life with ease.

Selling the House

We’ve received a counter offer this morning on our house in Bulverde.  And of course we counter-offered.  This could be it.  And so I ask myself what does that mean?  First it means we need to get the rest of the stuff out of the house and my husband needs to clean out his garage of all the tools he has amassed over the 30+ years we have been together.  No room for those in an apartment.  Our son has been living in our house, one because he had not moved out of the house, secondly because we still have animals to disperse when the house sells and thirdly because it is nice to have someone living there to keep up the yard, pool and such for showings.  90% of the house is empty, except his bedroom, bathroom and a few items left in the extra bedroom such as the futon so we have a place to sleep when we need to go back.  We are still waiting to see if the counter offer is accepted.  It is $10,000 less than the price we put on the market, but we are both ready to see this part of our lives close, well at least I am.  So I ask myself again, what does this mean?  How will it affect us?  One thing is we can pay off all of our debt.  That in itself has huge ramifications.    What does financial freedom really mean for me?  I have been trying to pay off debt for so long it has become my mantra, along with losing weight and being happy.  My Ego tells me I will be so much happier when I have no debt, lose all the weight etc…..but I know the trap.  I have lost weight before, through much exercise and starvation, and well I may have happy for a little while, but then the happiness was just not worth getting up at 5:30 every morning and exercising for an hour and half and not eating.  So I struggle with what debt-free means to me and will it really bring me happiness?  There will be one less thing worry about, but what worry will replace it?  (I hear an Alanis Morisette song in my head…..)  Angst.  Thoughts.  Why?  Did I win?  So what if I did?  So what if I didn’t?  And who am I winning or losing against?  All these thoughts surrounding the thought that we might have sold the house and all the while my background noise, “don’t count your chickens before they hatch.” Who comes up with this stuff?  Ramblings of a normal person trying their best to live a normal life.  Whatever that is.

A Blank Page

   

      A blank page.  This morning when I thought about what I would write about, nothing came to mind.  That is not altogether true.  Nothing came to mind that I thought would be clever enough or good enough or whatever enough to elicit likes, followers or comments.  That got me to thinking, why was I writing?  Was it for me and if so, how was it for me?  For the kudos I would receive, for the recognition that someone out there read my blog and knew I was there.  Ah, the AHAH moment.  Why do any of us write, or for that matter do anything?  Are we doing it for the recognition, or because whatever we do has to be done, for the pleasure of it, or because the relentless voice in our heads will not go away until we do.  Does anyone really know what we are doing here or why we are doing it?  (Chicago's song, "Does anyone really know what time it is?" has popped into my head). There are plenty of people out there who claim to know, none of them have resonated with me.  Their truths are not my truths and my truths are changing all the time.  I remember being in one of the "truth boxes" and when I stepped out of it, lamenting the fact I had stepped out and wanting to go back in, but as in the movie, "The Matrix", once you take the red pill, there is no going back.  But what if the blue pill is the truth?  Depends on which truth you embrace.  There are plenty of red and blue pill realities plus a plethora of other colors to choose from.  Nothing really to write about today except questions of the Universe that have no answers.

3 Weeks

  

    It is week 3 of our year in an apartment.  I have tried to break the time into days or months but they both seem so daunting, weeks seem much less.  It is just how my brain works.  Our house in Bulverde is still on the market, we did receive one offer but is was so insulting and as this is our "Move to Colorado" money, we are not willing to budge too much.  That is the plan.  A year here, and then Colorado.  I have been trying to move to Colorado for 5 years now and knowing that every day I am closer and closer to that goal keeps me going.  Why Colorado?  My Soul soars there.  I feel at home.  Not an easy task for a military brat that went to 13 different schools and has moved 20+ times.  I am ready to settle down and make peace with myself.  Plus I can breathe in Colorado.  When I am there on vacation, I take deep breath after deep breath and my Spirit is renewed.  It will happen.      
     I have taken a part-time job in a tasting room.  They are in need of a tasting room manager, which was my position at my last two jobs, but I have not been quick to apply.  I have told them I am more than capable of doing the job and helping their business grow, but I am not sure I want to fall into the same trap as my previous jobs where I worked my can off for someone else's success.  It is a constant daily battle for me not to act as a manager.  It is what I do, but I also remind myself they are not paying me to be a manager and as most companies, although I do not think they do it intentionally, they will abuse the situation until the situation no longer exists.  I am setting boundaries early, trying not to repeat the same mistakes over and over again.  This part of my life is about changes that I choose to make.  Which includes respecting who I am, what I am worth and allowing the best into my life.

Steps

     It is funny how my perception changes with situations.  One of the reasons I did not care for our house in Bulverde anymore was because of all the steps.  One had to go down 5 steps to go to the kitchen and dining room and up 12 more steps to the master bedroom and office.  On my days off I was continually going up and down the steps.  I tried my best to talk myself into liking it, “Oh this will be the 5^th time you’ve done this, your body is so grateful”, but after about the 10^th time I was not so grateful anymore.  When we were looking for an apartment, I insisted on a first floor.  My husband wanted a 2^nd floor apartment; it was more secure, you could see more from the balcony etc.  I did not want steps.  We live on the 2^nd floor.  After our first big grocery store haul, he understood why I did not want a second floor.  Too late.  I have now started a health program where I walk around the block every morning, and have incorporated walking up and down a set of steps in the beginning of my walk and the end.  Go figure.  When I am in the mode of “I am doing something healthy for body”, the steps do not bother me.  When I come home from work or shopping, they are a chore.  It is all in the perception.

My Balcony Is Empty

   

My balcony is empty except for a few items I brought from the house.  I have walked around the apartment complex looking at other people’s balconies, seeing how they decorated or did not decorate.  Some of the balconies are totally bare, some have a couple of chairs and maybe a table, a couple of plants or the balcony is filled to the brim with plants and/or stuff.  I am drawn to the ones that have a variety of different sized pots, plants and flowers.  My husband calls them jungles, I call them sanctuaries.  I enjoy flowers.  I enjoy color.  I enjoy variety.  I wonder to myself why I need to put anything more on my balcony.  Is it for my enjoyment or for others to see, without me having to shout out, “I am here, look at me!”, instead it is, “Look at my balcony, I am here!”  Do those who have nothing on their balcony wish to be anonymous? Or do they just not derive joy from the same things?  Do they prefer to spend their money on other things or experiences rather than chairs, flowers……  I also wonder where my love of flowers comes from.  My dad had a vegetable garden when I was growing up, which I abhorred working in because I had better things to do like play than work in his garden for stuff I did not like to eat in the first place such as acorn squash, rhubarb and summer squash, at least to the extent that we ate them.  He grew so much one summer that we put a box out on the sidewalk full of vegetables with a free sign.  No one took them.  As I take my morning walks, I look at the different front yards and enjoy the ones with plentiful flowers.  The houses that have none I make immediate judgements that they must be rental houses.  Funny how the mind works.  Or at least mine.  I have no doubt that I will have a full balcony by mid-summer, but I believe I will take my time, visiting different nurseries, only taking what truly takes my breath away.  And maybe that is the process,  using the mantra, “Does this take my breath away?”, in all things I choose to bring forth into my life. 

The Winds Have Shifted

    

     The winds have shifted to the north so my morning writing is much noisier now, with airplanes leaving the runway via our apartment route instead of coming in via that route.  My husband tells me it is because it is easier for the planes to take off into the wind, I don’t know, I have never understood how planes work anyway though he has tried many times to explain it to me.  My mind is just not wired that way.  As the planes pass by I wonder where all those people are going.  What adventure awaits them at their destination, are they visiting families, on business, or “getting away” as Southwest puts it so well.  It saddens me that the generation now and future ones will not have the pleasure or the thrill of seeing their family members when they come off of the plane.  We are now subjected to waiting at the baggage claim, as if we are claiming our family, or waiting for the phone call in the cell phone waiting lot.  I do realize the tribe made this decision to step up security after 911 and other incidents to make us more secure, but at what cost?  And has it really made us so much more secure?  I admit it has made more jobs for people, new products, new ways to keep others out.  Alas, I do not want to go off on a tangent on how the money could be better spent on education, feeding those in need and all the other great causes there are out there to spend time and money on.  I have always lived in a bubble.  My life has been fairly easy, I have made my own dramas, and continue to do so, but they are small dramas compared to others I have seen or heard about.  There have been some scary situations where my life could have ended, but did not.  I used to question why I was so lucky, so blessed, but I do not anymore.  I let the question go.  I just appreciate the fact that I am here, wherever here is, knowing my time will come when I will no longer be in this space; be it this apartment, this state, this body and try to remember in my “drama” times that I can breathe, that I can see, smell, hear, listen.  The winds have shifted again.

No Place To Hide

    It is not that I was actually hiding from him.  He just saw it that way.  At the house, I had my meditation room, which I could only use when no one was there because someone would eventually  knock on the door to ask me a stupid question, there was Chelsea’s old room which I turned into my “white horse” picture room and did the majority of my creative writing and reading, the upstairs great room with a huge desk, which has been traded in for a TV tray where I paid the bills, kept records and had a second TV, the front porch for morning coffee and a backyard full of beautiful flowers, a dog and two cats.  I now have a balcony.  He has commented more than once since the move that he can now “find” me.  And again, it is not that I am hiding, it is just that I have always been someone who needs time to themselves, time to think, to listen, to breathe, little sanctuaries.  I have not yet learned how to be in my sanctuary when among others.  I do have my public moments of Zen, when I greet a dog with a wagging tail or see a pretty garden that has been tended to with love.  I guess my goal would be to see all moments with love, with an understanding that all is tended with love, a Great love, a love beyond comprehension, a love that all is well even when it does not seem that way.  A love that does not require a place to hide.

Routines

    New routines are hard to start, especially since I currently do not have a job or anywhere to go.  I am still exploring the city of Grapevine, but that will get boring soon enough.  My previous routine was to wake an hour before everyone else, feed the animals, make my coffee and sit on the front porch watching the deer walk through my yard; sometimes stopping to see if I had anything for them, watching Jasmine stalk birds and most recently watching a house being built on the lot next to us.  When everyone else woke up I would then take a shower and do all the things necessary getting ready for work, what clothes to wear, picking out jewelry and shoes.  I am not a makeup person and luckily my last few jobs did not require me to wear it although I did on special occasions.  I’ve never understood the whole makeup thing.  Reminds me of a Billy Joel song, “The Stranger”: “Well we all have a face
that we hide away forever, and we take them out and show ourselves, when everyone has gone……”    
     My new routine is to wake up, make coffee, sit on my balcony and while looking for a job on the internet (has anyone ever found a job on the internet?), watching the squirrels scramble about and people walking their dogs and leaving for work.  I am trying to remember what I did when we moved back from Reno to Bulverde and I did not work for 3 months.  I did have a yard to take care of, I cooked a lot, my house was definitely much cleaner and I did a lot of shopping.  This situation is different and I am different.  I have no yard, I have cooked a little, the apartment takes 10 minutes to clean and although I do enjoy a good day of window shopping, I am not looking for “things” anymore.  What is that U2 song?, “I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.”

Small Adjustments

The adjustments are small, the closet light being on the outside of the closet instead of inside, having to lock the front door, and cars, going up and down stairs several times when bringing home groceries, (now he understands why I wanted a 1^st floor apartment) and the list goes on.  The apartments were not built for a 5’2” person.  I will have very strong calf muscles after a year of stretching on my tippy toes each time to reach for the plates and cups.  Unpacking was almost done in the first day, but there have already been changes.  One does not realize how much some things are really used, example, the small colander.  It had been placed on the top shelf over the stove, it is now in the pantry as the step stool had to be used to get it down.  Going from 10 kitchen cabinets to 5 has been a feat.  There was a whole lot of purging before we left, but evidently not enough.  My morning coffee view is definitely different and much nosier.  I do have pretty trees to look at, and plenty of birds singing, but also get to watch others leave for their work, and listen to airplane after airplane leave.  Jim commented that he did not realize how noisy the planes would be, and I replied I choose to believe it is the sound of the ocean splashing against rocks.  He gives me that look of “I really don’t know what planet you came from.”  We have our coping mechanisms!