How?

I stood under the moon tonight, thinking..........

I don't know how. I don't know how to do this.

How do I to tell someone something they do not want to hear? How do I tell someone something that will tear their world apart? How do I tell someone that the life they have known, the only life they have said, had meaning to them, has ended? How do I tell someone something that will fill them with so much pain? A pain so agonizing it hurts to breathe, a pain that envelopes the heart until it feels as if it must stop beating, because no heart could feel a pain so intense, and survive it.

How, how, how.......

Knowing they have not prepared themselves for this inevitability?

I feel the pain, I am full of the pain, I have felt it seeping into me, through me. But, I am prepared, I have lived it so long. I have let it fill me, until I did not think I could hold anymore. Yet, I have not ever purposely given it to him to hold, I kept it, I held onto it, I tried to protect, until I no longer have that ability.

Destroying someone's dreams.

Is that what I am doing?

To live my own?

Lonely, lost, heart full of tears, cracks and crevasses appearing, filling with tears.

I might just be a sinner that wants to be saint; one justifies the reason; one understands the pain.

Will he ever understand? Will he see that this is truly for the best? Will his heart ever heal?

Will I?



Tonight

If I had weakness, you sure found it tonight,
Some hidden desperation you saw floatin' in my eyes.
Moments just like these, baby: wrong can feel so right,
An' I don't wanna go home tonight.

I've held it all together long as I can.
There's pieces of me fallin' right into your hands.
Don't the lies come easy, baby, when the truth just ain't worth the fight:
No I, I don't wanna go home tonight.

So lay me down easy, hold on tight,
Tell me I'm the only one you see tonight.
Lonely woman, lonely man:
There's just some things only lonely understands.

I might be just a sinner who wants to be a saint;
One justifies the reason, oh; one understands the pain.
And I don't know what's wrong, baby, and I sure don't know what's right,
But I don't wanna go home tonight.

So lay me down easy, an' hold on tight,
An' tell me I'm the only one you see tonight.
Lonely woman, lonely man:
There's just some things only lonely understands.

~Sara Evans~

Simple Wants

I have always been a plant person. I love fresh cut flowers, and house plants filling the rooms of my home. Plants lining the window sills, the trailing greenness of life hanging down the sides of the windows, the soft glow of sunlight filtering through those leaves. At different times in my life, I have had them filling the windows, filling the corners of each room that allowed even the smallest amount of light to sustain them, in essence an attempt by me, to bring the outdoors in. Rooms when filled with plants, seem to have a softer, more alive feel to them. The ambiance of each room is cheerier, cleaner, fresher, comfort giving.

In the tending of them, I have always taken pride in their health, feeling as if they reflected the health of my home environment itself. They do, or did. As my life changed, my plants changed, as my life became filled with negativity, the growth and vitality of my plants reflected their lack of nurturing. Month after month, year after year, the supply of plant life inside my home slowly diminished, from lack of proper care, from inattention. Slowly, ever so slowly, the life force of my home seemed to disappear into an oblivion of leaves brown and curled at their edges, of overgrown root-packed nutrient poor soil. Stems shrinking, and withering, until one day, my gaze would fall upon another dying plant, a sadness would well up inside me, one more, one more would have died because I had not tended it with care. I had not given it even the minimum dose of water to fill its basic life needs. A symbol of the state of my mind and heart.

In addition to the inside of my home being filled with the greenery of life, the outside was the same. I had beds of perennials, each one chosen because of the unusual color, the shape or texture of its leaves, the scent or shape of its blooms, or because of the insect and bird life it would draw. Each spring and summer season I added one or two new plants to my gardens, along with a filler of annuals. Summer before last, I also noticed a color theme amongst these much-loved gardens of mine. Many of the blossoms that filled the beds, were rich shades of purple, lavender, or blue. Here and there would be accents of yellow, white, or various shades of pink, but those colors in the blue spectrum seemed to predominate. I never cared to know why, I do know by late July, my flower beds were always filled with color, bright with insect life and birds, always bringing something new to delight my senses. I almost always was filled with small doses of serenity, and comfort in the evenings as I stood watering these beauties that colored my surroundings, that lined my small garden pond, that framed the entrance to my home. But, last summer, and the summer before, I also noticed something else. It became an effort to keep them watered, it was an effort to keep them weeded, and dead-headed. The love had fled from my heart, and my gardens reflected it.

My heart is opened again, ready to feel the force of life. I want, perhaps even need to express that in the plants and flowers I grow and nurture.

My new home, one house plant, one vase of fresh cut flowers, no pots lining the decks, no beds bursting forth with bloom.

I ache to return to my old home, and begin digging in the soil, to gently separate the roots, to carefully remove a small sample of each plant, and bring it here to live, grow, and thrive. Why do I feel as if I have no right to do just that?

Dreams

I have experienced an amazing awakening in recent days. Dreams do come true. Mine may not have been large or spectacular, but several have come true.

In 1981 we built our first home. When I say we built it, I mean we really built it ourselves. There were no contractors, just us, family and friends, it took 16 months from start to finish. Many week nights, after work and school, every weekend for 16 months. But we did it, we built it, we lived there for seven years. Then due to family circumstances we had to leave our home, we built another next door to my husband's grandmother, to become her caregivers for the next 17 years.

But, during the time I lived in the home that we had built, I spent many, many early mornings, and early evenings walking the road I lived on. On that road, was my dream property, when viewing it, many would not see what I saw, and see, but I fell in love with it. It was the original farmstead that at one point was the center of hundreds of acres of forested river front, and farm lands. I dreamed of someday owning and living on that property.

For many years we rented out our first home, until we eventually realized that we would never move back there. We decided to sell it. In that selling, we also decided that to escape paying capital gains taxes we needed to buy more property with the proceeds of that sale. We had been showing the house for about a week, when we found out my dream property was up for private sale. One of the few things I wouldn't let go of. I wanted it, badly. We bought it. A dream come true.

During those same years, I came to a realization, that my marriage would not last, that someday we would end. I would dream of the place I so loved, the property that we would spend a few days here and there camping on. But I always held onto the dream, that when my marriage did end, I would move to that location, make it my home. I live there now, it is not a beautiful house, in fact I am living in a 3 bedroom mobile home that was placed on the property in 2005 by my husband....not in my plans....in fact if I had been told about it in advance I would have fought him tooth and nail! But.....it did work out well in the end.....I have a roof over my head, and that of my children. The old buildings here are falling into disrepair, a lot needs to be done to it, to become what it should, and, it may not remain mine, once the dust of the divorce settles, but until that time, I am still living my dream, not exactly as I dreamed it, but, I am here, the dream came true.

After I realized I would be living here, I had another wee little dream. I would imagine myself, and my two children, holding long, silly, laugh-filled conversations together, like we used to. I would imagine the three of us taking long walks together up and down the road that travels along the river. We did that tonight, fully, completely as I had imagined it. It was amazing! Another dream fulfilled.

These small dreams of mine, will not stay the same, it will all change again. My children are adults now. They will not be here long. I may not be here long. But I held onto some dreams, dreams I had forgotten I dreamed. I am living those dreams. I am content tonight, I am happy. These moments are pure bliss. I am going to revel in these good feelings, and most importantly, I am going to keep dreaming.

Expectations

I read this yesterday, and had to write it down, I forgot to write down the author, so I cannot give her the credit for it.

It has to do with how we perceive those we love.

"...what we do with the people we love. In large part we make them up, based on past experience. We bring the past into the present, and fail to experience, in any given moment, the people we love unencumbered by our projections."

The author in writing of her own attempts to let past expectations of a loved one go, wrote this regarding seeing her lover each morning......

"There she is, unknown to me...alive, beautiful and brand-new. Most times I fall in love with her again. But then whether I want to or not, I let her go again."


We do it, with all those in our lives, that we have spent any amount of time with, we project our expectations of who we think they are, of how we think they will behave in any given moment.

This brings me back to that certainty we all like to feel. A friend sent me an email the other day, quoting Tony Robbins, and his list of human needs, first listed was Certainty and Comfort. We like some certainties in our lives, it gives a feeling of stability and security. Yet, we also want variety, to provide some spice to life.

Perhaps it is that feeling of comfort we need, when we continually view those we love, with eyes seeing them from the past, instead of the now. I once stated, well, probably more than once, that at their basic inner core, most people do not change, they are who they are.

We do change...life does change us. We change our opinions and/or beliefs, how we behave, our views of the world at large. It all changes over time, and with experience----age does do that to us.

What I am wondering though is, unless it is something soul shattering, are these changes not reflections of our basic personalities, our basic character?

What changes a person makes within themselves usually fit within the boundaries of their basic morals and values, we each determine how far we will allow ourselves to stretch those boundaries. Some may even get stretched so far, and so often that they seem to have completely broken away from them.

But, again I wonder, perhaps those boundaries were not as we perceived them to be? What we see when we look at another's behaviors, is colored by how we think we would behave in a given situation, we perceive from our own boundary lines, and project those onto others. If it is someone we know well, we then use their past behaviors, along with our own expectations of them to project, and expect. Sometimes they don't behave as we expected, and we are surprised. Many times we pass that off as a momentary oddity. Thinking, soon, very soon, they will revert to past behaviors. Many times they do. Sometimes, they don't. It is very difficult to let those old expectations go. Very difficult to continually view those we love as "brand-new" .

In thinking about all of this. I searched my memories of the people who have most influenced my life. All have changed over the years. But when I try to remember them from 30, 20, 10 years ago, even 1 year ago, there is much the same about them. The most telling, or perhaps only the most noticeable to me, are those who had a fairly pessimistic view towards life in general already. I am not sure I can truly articulate what I mean. They seem to be different, as they aged, they perhaps mellowed, but when delving deeper, really examining how I perceive any changes in them, their negative outlooks seem to have become more entrenched, not less.

I then began looking at my own marriage, trying to view my husband brand-new. And, yes, over the past few years in many ways he has changed, as have I.

We each have changed, learned from our experiences, but until recent years, recent months, I saw the young man, and my expectations of his behavior followed that pattern. When I realized that I could no longer predict how he would behave, I remember feeling frightened, realizing that I had lived with that predictability for so long, that being uncertain of how he would behave in any particular situation was unsettling. It still is.

As I tried to really determine how he expects me to behave, he sees the old-me, the me from our many years together. There have been a few instances recently when he has seen me as brand-new. He even mentioned it, rather surprised I think at what he saw. But he also soon reverted back to seeing only the old-me, treating me as the old-me. Not listening to the words I said, not reading my behavior, just viewing me as who he wants to see.

With my making this move, away from him, he is bit unsure of me now, but from what I have been told by others, his expectations regarding me, are that I am going through a momentary oddity, I will revert back to 'who' he expects me to be. He has not learned that he has to "let go of me."

I am very unsure of him. I am trying to live with and accept that uncertainty. Our lives are going in different directions now. Our past history cannot be forgotten, or ignored by me any longer. I have tried. I have spent time with him twice now in the last two weeks. Searching him, searching within me. The "brand-new" man, I attempted to see, the man I let go of, I do not feel love for. I feel sorrow, such deep sorrow, but I could not, and do not find myself falling in love with him. A feeling of loss envelopes me, but I know that my eyes must look forward, face the uncertainties that life is bringing my way, and know, that I will survive them. That he will survive them. I have to hope that.

Some where along the journey of our lives together, we came to a fork in the road, and we each chose the opposite direction. Only, we didn't realize it, we were seeing our expectations of the other, instead of who we really were.



I am not I.
I am this one
walking beside me whom I do not see,
whom at times I manage to visit,
and whom at other times I forget;
who remains calm and silent while I talk,
and forgives, gently, when I hate,
who walks where I am not,
who will remain standing when I die.

~Juan Ramon Jiminez~

Happily Ever After?

Listening to the song, Beautiful Disaster by Jon Mclaughlin, tonight, had me wistful and melancholy. It reminded me a lot of myself at age seventeen. It brought back feelings, memories, I had forgotten. From about the ages of 13 to 16, I remember feeling strong, like I had a world full of options. Even in the midst of my own teenage confusion and rebellion, I still thought I had a future of endless possibilities. I remember spending days fervently debating the male/female double standard. Discoursing with teenage cynicism the events that unfolded around the Watergate Scandal. I remember watching my friend's older brothers trying (and failing) to recapture the lives they had before they were sent to Vietnam, and feeling angry that they had to. I remember holding long marijuana infused discussions over the meaning of life, and thinking we had the answer, as we rifled through LPs at the local head shop.

Then life changed after that. I felt tired at seventeen.

I had already mothered my younger brother and sister, already tried to run a household for two parents who were more absent than home. Suddenly, in just the blink of an eye, I was no longer fervently debating, no longer eagerly awaiting college as the beginning of my life as an adult. No longer dreaming of a big bright future full of endless possibilities. I was lost, big time lost. The endless tumultuous chaotic alcoholic tinged fog of my home life had already taken its toll. At the age of 16 I had to make a decision that no young woman should have to make, but many do. In making that decision, I began to punish myself. The decision was not an unusual one for the times, nor is it today. But, many events from my earliest years led up to that one telling event. I wish I could say, that one decision is the cause of why many young women lose their dreams. But it isn't (it is just the one that changed me). I have watched ten young girls, from almost all economic walks of life, grow into ten beautiful young women. My girls come from nuclear families, blended families, alternative families, single parent families, two of them lost a parent too early. Each faces decisions today, has choices to make that will effect the course their lives take as they grow into adulthood.

Yet, even of the few that grew up in more privileged families, more than a couple of them are described in Beautiful Disaster.

I have always held the hope, that our society would change for the better. Always wishing that as we open up more, discuss the topics that our parents were afraid to discuss, that all young girls would dream big, and do their best to live those dreams. Some do. Yet, I see so many still, that have lived their young lives in homes full of turmoil, sadness, abuse, and anger. No one, to tell them how wonderful they are, just as they are. No one to tell them they have more alternatives than lack of. Will it always be our legacy to have young women seeking to change themselves to be someone they are not? To seek what they think of as Happily Ever After?

~Jon Mclaughlin~

Beautiful Disaster

She loves her mama's lemonade,
Hates the sounds that goodbyes make.
She prays one day she'll find someone to need her.
She swears that there's no difference,
Between the lies and complements.
I's all the same if everybody leaves her.

And every magazine tells her she's not good enough,
The pictures that she sees make her cry.

And she would change everything, everything just ask her.
Caught in the in between of beautiful disaster,
And she needs someone to take her home.

She's giving boys what they want, tries to act so nonchalant,
Afraid they'll see that she's lost her direction.
She never stays the same for long,
Assuming that she'll get it wrong.
Perfect only in her imperfection.

She's not a drama queen,
She doesn't want to feel this way, only seventeen but tired

She would change everything for happy ever after.
Caught in the in between of beautiful disaster,
But she just needs someone to take her home.

Cuz she's just the way she is, but no ones told her that's ok.

And she would change everything, everything just ask her.
Caught in the in between of beautiful disaster,

And she would change everything for happy ever after.
Caught in the in between of beautiful disaster,

But she just needs someone to take her home
And just needs someone to take her home.

I have tried my very best to continually foster in my own daughter a strength that I no longer had at her age. She was born stubborn, willful, and independent, filled with a zest and flair for life, open and loving. No matter how difficult it has been some days (OK, years) to live with a young/child/woman with such a strong character, I am very happy she is as strong as she is. She is not living the lyrics. She is writing her own. Of that, I am very glad.

And, finally, after 30 years, maybe, just maybe I am too.

Bemused Confusion

I am sitting here this evening in front of my computer, munching on my dinner....which consists of a glass of Oliver's Soft Red, (not too bad, a little sweet for me), a dill pickle slice, cheddar cheese, and pretzels. In between bites, I ponder, and I write.

I am pondering over the two earlier blog entries I wrote today, I really thought I was on the road to my inner healing. Now, I am not so sure.

I spent the entire day alone, Miss Daughter left at 7:30 this morning, and is still not home. Although when I spoke with her, she gave me such a fright. It seems she ran her arm through a glass door today, "But don't worry Mom, I'm fine, it isn't as bad as it sounds. The man mowing the lawn was a nurse practitioner, and he said, I didn't need stitches. He bandaged it up for me, and told me to stay out of the river for a few days. I just peeled the top layer of skin off. But, Wow! All of that blood really scared me at first!"

Yeah, right! Don't worry! She will be home soon, and then I will inspect the handywork of the yardman/nurse. Nope, I am not worrying at all!

I have been rather lazy today, although I spent a considerable amount of time continually voicing the word no, to very active, and always hungry 3 month old puppy. But, basically, I was lazy, I did clean a little, and met a very nice telephone installation man, who was kind enough to examine the nonworking wall jack in my bedroom, and repair it. Then wrote some, ran some errands, and cried. Yes, I cried. It surprised me. (It also is surprising me how much I am craving these dill pickles, on my 3rd one now!)

Anyway, why did I find myself crying? I didn't really know why. Three times early in the evening, I picked up the phone to call a friend. But I would then not dial their numbers. Each time telling myself, "They do not want to hear me if I get started on this whole divorce subject." Which would surely come up, as it is the current angst in my life. I didn't want that, what I wanted was a peaceful evening, spent laughing and talking.

At that point I remembered the advice I have heard from so many different people. "Keep a support system going, you need a strong support system throughout all of this."

Great advice, but one I cannot seem to follow. I don't want to cry on someone's shoulder. I will gladly lend mine, but I don't like feeling needy. I did want a hug though, wanted one badly.

Me being me, I had to ask myself.........why? Why can't I call those closest to me, to moan, whine, and wail? Why can't I call those closest to me, and receive their understanding and support? I couldn't or wouldn't allow myself to find the true answer. I instead let my mind wander to the fact that I have no problem writing about all of my whining and moaning. But in face to face life, I don't want to do that.

I then realized, I haven't even begun to move through all the healing stages. A large portion of my wall is still intact. I haven't allowed it to completely fall, I haven't even begun to knock it all down as I had thought. Even the palms of my hands tell me so, they are itching like crazy, a sure sign of inner battle.

I know I want to feel healed, I know what I am supposed to feel when I have healed. But, I am not there yet. I want to be there.

I ask myself, so many questions in the midst of my tears falling, trying to get them to stop. "Why am I so unhappy? Why? Do I want my old life back?"
The answer was a resounding NO! I know, I have made the right decision.

Now, I just have to learn to dial those phone numbers, ask for some of their time. Only then, will I have my chance to get those laughs and good conversation. There may be a few tears involved also, but amidst the tears, there will be laughter.

Ok, one more dill pickle before I go to bed.

Truths

Doubting myself, and feeling uncertain, two feelings that have been a large part of my living life. Maybe, a part of what all introspective beings experience. Those of us who look ever inward, searching for the unsearchable, our true selves. The time arrives when we must accept the knowledge that perhaps there is no true self, perhaps we are who we are, and that is best determined when we are living outside ourselves, (I don't mean living unthinkingly, I view it as if the narcissistic side of the self has turned away from the mirror.) I am thinking of those moments when we are experiencing life fully. I am ready to accept that I will never find my 'true self', I am just me, as I am. One of my simpler truths, and one of the hardest to grasp.

I have reached one of those times in life, when my learning seems to be accomplished all in one leap. I try, and try again, I seek, and continue seeking again, and again. Then one day, it happens. I UNDERSTAND. I have often associated these leaps into learning with the achievements of small children, in many ways I still feel quite childlike, so, I may learn in such a way also. It feels as if I have spent my life ever questing, ever questioning. Then, in a small space of time, I arrived at one of my destinations. My questing will never truly end, but I have arrived at some truths, and hopes.

• I know who the core me is, I have found me, it took tearing down my hiding place, but I was there, always had been. A truth. Tempered with a hope that I always seek ways to be a better me.
  

• I will ever make the attempt to express the love I feel for those I love openly and honestly. A truth. With the hope that they will always feel my love, truly feel it.

• I will ever allow myself to keep seeking knowledge, beauty, and salvation for others as well as myself. A truth. With the hope that no matter how gray the world sometimes looks, I can see the beauty.

• I will ever be in search of lost memories, and the reasons why of my forgetting. A truth. With the hope that I will hold onto the important ones.

• I will ever believe there is a basic goodness in the majority of humanity, even when other's point out all of the inhumanities man has wrought. A truth. With the hope, that I will continue to find those who prove me right.
  

• I will ever feel some doubt, and uncertainty, but I will let them flow through me, learn from them, and then, let them loose on the wind. A truth. With the hope that I will always recognize those doubts for what they are, yet always feel some uncertainty, because every time I doubt, I learn to accept that the doubts are really fear. And fear is a killer of living and loving to the fullest. Hoping to always experience some uncertainty because it keeps me humble.
  

• I will face times in my life, when it seems too hard to continue as I am, when I will begin rebuilding my walls of self-protection. A truth. With the hope that I always recognize what I am doing, and knock it down again.
  

• I will always carry within me regrets, regrets over past mistakes, regrets over past failings. A truth. With the hope that I will continue to learn from those mistakes and failings, to never repeat them.

As I continue to think of the many more truths of my life, I realize there will always be days, when I don my rose-colored glasses, and only wish to see the soft rosy glow of peace and contentment coloring my world. There will also be days, when I will forget what I have learned in my questing, when I will forget the basic truths that make up my core personality, and will find myself wallowing in self imposed purgatory.

But somehow, even when I cynically attempt to view it all as a romanticization of reality, I seem to never completely lose my rose-colored glasses, they are always there, somewhere close to hand.

"And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time."
~T. S. Eliot~

"Ten thousand flowers in spring, the moon in autumn, a cool breeze in summer, snow in winter. If your mind isn’t clouded by unnecessary things, this is the best season of your life." ~Wun-Men~

Gifts. Love. Choices.

In recent days, I have had several conversations, and read several blog entries regarding the idea of loving, and the acts and/or words that express love. The things we do and say to let the many we love know we cherish them.

Reflecting on Mother's Day brought it into focus for me. The gifts some received and didn't receive. The "idea" of gifts that some gave, and that some expected.

I was told of one mother receiving the most thoughtless of gifts, and my heart ached for her. No matter the gifts many Mothers received on that day, whether of words, deeds, or material items, all had some sort of meaning attached to them by the giver. In return, the receiver also attached meaning to them.

I received several gifts on Mother's Day, all but one were words. The most precious gifts which were given to me on that day, were the words, I love you, these little words were received by me with joy, with the perception they were indeed heartfelt, because I am loved. And, because I love the giver and have spent my time in their life attempting to express that love. I also gave gifts. Gifts of love to my mother, my sister, and a few other women in my life, due to my current circumstances, the gifts of love and appreciation I gave were also only words. But they were received with joy too. How do I know this? The tone of their voices when they heard mine, and replied. They knew, deep within that I love them, that I appreciate them, that I am grateful they are in my life.

These gifts I received........were they enough? The words I received, were more than enough for me, the hugs I received, more than expressed the love I am given.

I also mentioned, I received one material item. Along with that item I received a card. The act that preceded the gift, negated the gift, the card made it even more telling. My perception regarding that gift did not allow me to feel loved, it felt as if the gift was given out of a sense of obligation, with the knowledge that it might "earn points" for the giver. Is that an act of love or manipulation?

Does one keep track of what is given, in respect to what they receive in return? During my conversations concerning the little things we do, the common courtesies we offer to those we love, the small seemingly insignificant gestures that are performed by us for the ones we love, I realized, it was a rare day that I ever measured what I had given. Rarer still, to measure what I have received. Unless, I felt a lack of love in my life. Then I became aware. Doubt then set in, not doubt regarding the loved, but self-doubt. Was I not giving enough, not giving in the proper way? I became uncertain. I began to feel that I was not able to love in the 'right' way. It didn't matter how that love was expressed, it was never right.

In this pondering, I then had to ask myself, did I, have I, expressed my appreciation for the gifts I received? Were they enough for me? I know I always said thank you, for the small gestures that I had an awareness of. But, have I always been aware? Were there things I didn't notice? It is a verity of life, that we will not always be enough, not always be aware, not always be the most loving and thoughtful of beings....we are human, and one of our frailties is the inability to be perfect. But, was I aware and appreciative enough? Did I miss something important that led to the downfall of my most long lasting love relationship?

Sadly, I realized, my failure came not from a lack of showing appreciation, I think I did. Our downfall came from my having to always be hyper-aware of every mood, every act, his and mine. And, that constant need to be hyper-aware, wore me out, a weariness set in, until I reached a point in which I could no longer love enough, I just didn't have the energy any longer. That frightened me. I began to worry that I was unable to love anyone enough. It took several people, here in the online world, and in my face to face life, to teach me that I can love, and that my love is enough. I still feel that doubt on occasion, still feel that uncertainty. The years of living in a hyper-aware state engendered that. But I have also, come to realize something very important, I can let those doubts go, I can let those uncertainties go. As long as I remain true to myself, love and live as genuinely as I am able.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Love is a gift, a gift we give others, and a gift we give ourselves.

Love is a choice......I read that somewhere recently, can't remember where. But it resonated deeply. We choose to love. We really do. No matter how much we may sometimes run from the idea of it, we choose to love, or not to love.

With the ending of my marriage, I have pondered, long and deep, for so many years on why it wasn't working. No matter the underlying reasons, no matter our long history together. It comes down to the fact, that one day I chose to stop loving him. I chose to stop feeling the pain, of not being able to love enough, so my love changed. I will always love him, always care about him, but I am simply unable to give the proper gifts.

It reminds me of the children's game Red Rover, Red Rover. In the choosing, of sending someone over, the choices made are not always thought out in the best interest of the team, sometimes the choosing is made because we simply want a particular person on our side. So we choose them.

Someday, somewhen, I hope to look into the eyes of the man I love, and tell him.....

I choose you.

I want you on my side.....by my side.....because.....I love you.

It's My Life

Such a life giving day.

I called my phone number, and it rang, no disembodied voice telling me the phone number I was calling was not in service. MY PHONE NUMBER RANG and RANG. MY PHONE NUMBER!

Amazing that such a small thing would be so exciting. But, I have never had my own phone number, my own address, my own home. MINE, ME, Alone (well....not completely alone my children live here too) but it is, MINE. It feels........why.......it feels damn good! No. It feels great!

I had my moments of questioning......... Knowing my memory as well as I do.....funny how easy it is to remember that you don't remember things.

Anyway, the confusing thoughts running through my mind were something like this.........

"Did I remember the address correctly? Did I tell the phone company the proper directions? (I am living in the middle of nowhere after all.) I hope they didn't make a mistake, and connect to the wrong address!" I finally called the local post office to double check the address. (I had remembered it correctly.)

Unfortunately my certainty did not last long. Late in the day, I received a voice mail from my phone company that the workman were falling behind schedule, and that it might be the 24th before my service was installed! "What?"

My mind started doing one of those stuttering buts....."But, but, but......I dialed the number 2 hours ago, and it rang! How can they say it is not connected?"

I dialed the number again, and again, and again, (I have no answering machine yet). It rang, and rang.

So, then I had to ask myself, "Why did they call and leave me that message? The phone is ringing?"

Then my mind went to......" Maybe, I did tell them the incorrect address. No, the postmaster said it was right. Is the postmaster wrong too? If it isn't a wrong address, then, why does the service I find online tell me that I have access to broadband, while the phone order person told me it is not available? I want broadband, I want high speed! No, that is OK, dial-up is better than nothing. But high speed would be so cool! The songs I could download, the videos I could watch!"

I did finally reach some moments of rationality, remembering that I am trying to stick to a tight budget, and that I can live with what I have.

I allowed only positive thoughts to enter my mind. "The phone company made a mistake, my phone is connected." It was, it is!

When I returned home this evening, another thought entered my mind. "I have a mail box, do I have mail?" I did. As I reached in, I was joyful again, there was mail, my mail, I could take my own my own mail from the box!

To many, that may seem like no big deal. But for most of the past 30 years, it has been a rare day when I would arrive home and find mail in the mail box, see a small stack of mail addressed to me, that had not been sorted and scrutinized by someone else first.

MY HOME. MY PHONE. MY MAIL.

Hmmm, does that mean I am finally a completely independent person? A grown up?

Nope, not completely, I must/will always keep my sense of fun, and joy over the little things intact. I don't think I will ever tire of toy stores....of either kind ~grin~

But, it does mean, that I am finally free of having to be constantly vigilant.....of how I am, of how I act, of who I am talking to, of what I do. I can just live, no more walking on egg shells.

Pretty nice feeling.

I Know Who I Want to Be

A link, that was sent to me many months ago. I revisit it from time to time, to remind me.

Many of you may have read it before. But, perhaps not.

Oriah Mountain Dreamer published a book in 1999. I have not read the book, perhaps someday I will, but as I said, I do read this segment published on her website, I read it, and reread it.

The Invitation

For My Mother, For My Friends, For Me

Beauty of a Woman

The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears,

The figure she carries, or the way she combs her hair.

The beauty of a woman must be seen from her eyes,

Because that is the doorway to her heart,

The place where love resides.

The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mole,

But true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul.

It is the caring that she lovingly gives,

The passion that she shows.

The beauty of a woman

With passing years -- only grows.

~unknown~

Me, Now, Today, Tomorrow

"Many years ago I heard the statement "To change something, first you have to accept it as it is." Seems contradictory. Yet it is true. We can only start from where we are. " ~Rita O'Connor~

"We can only start from where we are."

I am at a new starting place in my life, attempting to accept my life as it is, and as it was, a very difficult outlook to maintain for any length of time. But, I am beginning to see that is all I can do.

In that acceptance, I am coming to realize......I encouraged my worries, they were safer than doing. I have really, finally, seen that ........I can......just......not......know...... and I can be OK with that. Someone reminded me today, that I am very capable of fulfilling my dreams, I just have to accept that I am strong enough.

Therefore,

I can accept that I am going to worry, no matter how hard I try not to. But, I also, do not have to allow that worry, that fear, to rule me, as I have done in the past. I cannot facilitate change, if I do not accept my life as it is. I cannot make changes unless I open myself to accepting that I deserve what I wish for, hope for, dream of.

So, where am I now?

I have moved, both of my children and I are sharing a home, on a serenely beautiful piece of land. I am surrounded by birdsong, morning and evening. The night skies are not disturbed by city lights. I find myself sitting for several hours each evening after sundown, out on my deck, just gazing serenely up at the wondrous night sky. Contentedly absorbing it all.

There are moments, when the worries over the future sneak up on me, especially in the very late evening. Last night, I found within myself, the urge to write, it was then, I realized, it is still a need within me. Those first nights, I had nothing to write, I felt so free and light, there was no describing it. But as the days have passed, I have come back to the knowledge, that I still have so much more inner exploration and healing to seek. I have a life to........hmmmm......not exactly plan....it is more as if, I have a life to add dreams to, dreams that I can open myself up to fulfilling.

It has been years, so many years, since I have felt this sublime inner freedom of self. (I am not completely there yet, that may take years, but I can feel little fingerlings of it, my spirit peeking out, the spirit that was locked away for so very long).

Oh, I am still full of worries, when I allow them to take over, before I remember to tell myself to just.........let them go. But, even then, I feel this tremendous sense of personal freedom. A freedom to be myself. Not as many self-protections in place. None of my old, 'walking on eggshells' self. I am beginning to remember who I used to be, I am beginning to remember what it felt like when I allowed my spontaneity to come to the fore. I am beginning to remember what it feels like to not have to wonder if something I do is miscontrued, or misinterpreted. I really like this feeling.

I finally feel like my life truly is full of unlimited possibilities. Realizing, I am the only one who truly limits those possibilities. And, ya' know what? I really, really want to test those limits, my limits.

So do me a favor my friends, keep your fingers crossed for me, I am striving to keep this wonderful forward momentum going. It is the most amazing feeling, and, I wish to revel in it, before I come back down to earth.

Although, there is the possibility, that my feet will never again completely touch the earth. The weights, even those many self-imposed ones, are being shaken off, I am so very close to being ready to soar!

I want to also take this opportunity (currently rare opportunity, I stopped by my local library) to thank those of you who have given me your love and support. It has been so wonderful to feel that, and I do feel it, even across this world within the ether of the internet.

Thank you, thank you, thank you! And, a HUGE CYBER HUG is being sent your way!

Happiness

I am going to have very limited internet access for the next few weeks.
Change is in my life.

As I make these changes, along with a multitude of other things, the following questions will also, be uppermost in my mind.







If you had no financial worries:

• Where would you live?
• How would you be spending your time?
• Whom would you be spending your time with?

In regard to personal happiness, and serenity:

• When have you been truly happy and why?
• What were you doing?
• What feelings did it engender?

And one more series of thoughts on friendship, taken from my daily OM.

Friends are the family we've chosen for ourselves, we can't help but feel a sense of kinship with these people who so enrich our lives. We may be drawn to each other by our similarities, but we help each other learn and grow through our differences. Think of what you appreciate about your friends and write these descriptions down on a piece of paper. Then reread the list and apply it to yourself. Sometimes it is much easier to appreciate the beauty in others than it is to see it in ourselves. And since like attracts like, by showing your love and affection for the friends that support you and share life's experiences with you, you acknowledge the beauty of your own reflection.

Some friends may be in our lives for only a short time before our paths take different directions. We may cross paths again, or perhaps we served our highest purpose in each others' lives. Others may be by our side over several years or decades. They may be closer to us in some ways than our blood relations or our spouses. We can express our love for them by a note, a look, a word of thanks whispered to the breeze—even a loving thought will be felt at some level. By acknowledging those who have walked beside you through life today, you show your gratitude to them and to the universe for providing you with such loving support.

Balancing it Out

I have been thinking, and thinking, and over thinking. About, those times in our lives, when we measure what we give, against what we receive in our important relationships.

No matter how hard we try to not measure, say we do not measure, we do. But, as I was pondering, I realized, we most often measure only during those times when we're feeling dissatisfied. At other times, we may measure, when we feel we are being given too much. When we're in balance, we don't measure.

As a child, I observed, and assimilated my own parent's marriage, without consciously realizing that was what I was doing. I discerned what worked and didn't work. I watched, I listened, I learned. It wasn't the best of marriages, not even close. More turmoil than unity.

From my more recent observations of them, I am guessing, (since I wasn't around for the beginning), these last few years, have been their best years. They bear their burdens with a shared stoicism. They have a comfort with each other, a peace. They now more than ever, support each other. During my childhood, they tried several times to live apart, divorced once, separated three times. During those sad, bad times, things were very out of balance between them. I was the child of an alcoholic. That sentence pretty much says it all. I am now the child of a recovering alcoholic, they worked through it, and it balanced out. Thus, today, they are still together. They are able to fulfill each other's needs, more or less, because over these many years, they learned they love, they love each other, they learned that their lives, no matter how turbulent, are better, feel more balanced, when they are together.

I was young when I married, but, even with being so very young, I was not all starry-eyed going into the marriage. I was optimistic, but also tried to be realistic. My husband and I lived together during the two years prior to our marriage, and had dated almost a year, before that. Thus, I entered into it with my eyes open. I also knew, from my observations of other marriages, and my studies, that to have a successful marriage, it took more, so much more than love alone. I knew it took hard work, dedication, devotion, and sacrifice. We even discussed this. I was sure we could do it, I could do it.

There are still many times, when I look back upon those years, when I remember my early misgivings. When, I attempt to seek the 'real' answer as to why I went ahead with the marriage. After all, I knew within a few months of our first sharing of living space, (Ok, really, even before that), we were not a perfect fit, a good fit in many ways, but, far, far from a perfect fit. But I did marry, and perhaps because of those misgivings, and our combined family histories, I was prepared for the not-so-perfect times that would inevitably arrive. I was prepared for giving more than receiving, I was also prepared for the opposite. For many years, I held onto the hope, we would eventually balance out. I also believe, there are times, when our perspectives were so different, that, we each, thought the other was on the receiving end of our best gifts to the other, that we each were giving more.

We did rely on each other, I can look back, remember, and know, that I made it through some very trying times, because my husband was there, beside me, offering me his support, and love. I also know, I gave him the same gifts. It helps me live with my now to know that.


I am facing divorce, in that process, I have to face the prospect that I failed, we failed.

There are several very real, very devastating underlying reasons why, and I am beginning, albeit slowly, to accept those.

I feel damaged, we are all damaged, I hurt, my husband hurts, my children hurt. Very much. But, it hurts worse to remain married, for both of us. So, our we, will end.

To understand, to live with the pain of ending a relationship that spans more than half my lifetime, I have to revisit the past. I had to, and continually have to, it is the only way, I can know the reasons why we don't work now, and why for so many years we seemed to. To those on the outside looking in, for first two thirds of our marriage, we were seen as "the perfect couple". No one saw the inner turbulence hidden behind my wall, I hid it well. It's easy to say we changed, we don't blend, we don't have the same dreams, we don't have the same viewpoint of the world, but, are those good enough reasons to end a marriage? To me they are, because over these many years, I realized, we never had the same dreams, we never looked at the world in the same way, we never blended well. (The image of a cruet filled with oil and vinegar enters my mind. As long as it is kept continually shaken, the two blend, but once that is stopped, separation rapidly occurs. My arm is tired, I can't seem to find the energy to keep shaking that cruet.)

So, I kept, and keep, revisiting our shared past. In doing so, I have imagined a scale much like the one pictured above. A pile of gold coins on the table. One pile labeled his. One pile labeled hers.

I kept asking myself. Did those piles start out equal, and then shift over time, until they never seemed to balance out? When we reached a point, in which, we were simply incapable of meeting the needs of the other? I know, I have always felt as if I was not enough, what I gave was not enough, the need was higher than what I was capable of giving. There were, and are times, when he was simply incapable of meeting my own needs, (there were, and are times, when I am simply incomprehensible to him). His fault? My fault? Both?

I recall times of balance, I recall times when the scale tipped heavier on his side. I recall times when the scale tipped most heavily on my side.

For many years, I hoped, wished, tried desperately to capture a sense of balance.

But, there is no balance of giving, there is no balance in receiving, or taking.

A loving, working marriage, isn't a balance between giving and receiving, it doesn't matter who gives more, who takes more, because in a good marriage, in a marriage that works, those will continually shift. If love and cherishing are present, if both give those, it works, the scale can be thrown out.

Reminders

There are some things in life, that seem to require ever constant promptings.

I received several such reminders tonight, and, perhaps, one of the most important of all, from a very dear friend, who has lived the words she spoke to me.

I have been putting off calling her for months, in fact, until a few hours ago, I had not realized, how many months had passed. So long, that we finally gave up on trying to recall how long it had been.

She and I are much alike, in how we deal with our emotions. When life feels messy, when we feel unsure, when we are hurting. We hide, we hole up in our little caves, behind the walls we build around ourselves to hide our vulnerability.

Tonight, I decided, that with all the changes in my life, it was important she learn them from me, not one of our small town gossips, but, from me.

She put such a smile in my heart. She gave me peace.

She has been hurting, grieving for over a year now. Dealing with the loss of her husband. I have been hurting, grieving the loss of my marriage. We were both hiding. Though, it seems, we were, both thinking about the other.

In our conversation, we shared so many small, but in their own way, very important things.

We spoke of the past, we spoke of finding ourselves, we spoke of dreams.

While I was speaking with her, I remembered why she is my friend, she remembered why I am her friend. We can be out of contact for months and months, and, yet, easily slip right back, as if no time at all has passed. She also reminded me of who I used to be, the best parts of me.

We give each other gifts. The best gifts of all. Gifts we all need in our lives.

Listening, Understanding, Support, Praise,
Strength, Love, Honesty, Trust, Peace.

Far more important, than even those gifts, she reminded me...................

We have to dream, we have do, and, if we feel something, we have to say it.

After all, we may not have tomorrow.

Ripples and Waves

Life, gives us moments, several in fact, when we have the option to do something that makes a difference. Some are life changing moments. Not just for one, but for the many who touch your life. No matter the choice made during that moment, life will never be the same again.

A little row boat, filled with a family, merrily riding the river. Occasionally, small waves would skip in front of the little boat, causing it to rock, and wobble. An occupant might squeal in mock terror, but all felt safe in the little boat carrying them downriver.

Mother nature was capricious that day, she did not always seem to be cooperating with the little family's idyllic plans. The wind enjoyed playing turn about with their small boat. Occasionally blowing a larger wave against the hull, causing the little boat to sway and tilt, showering the occupants with droplets of river water. A few discordant grumbles were heard, but passed quickly.

Soon, the wind calmed, a few small ripples, created by those larger waves still marred the surface of the river. But, these ripples seemed manageable, were adjusted to, as the little rowboat, and it's occupants continued their journey, undisturbed.

No one had noticed, as the boat was rocked by one of the larger waves, that, the oars had slipped from their locks, and had floated downstream. No one noticed the slow seepage of the water in the bottom of the boat.

Later in the day, the gentle breeze that had been guiding the small boat downriver, became stronger, changed direction, catching the boat broadside. The sky began to cloud over, the boat turning and turning in the water, against the current, creating more, and more waves. Mutters of discontent rose shrilly. Those inside, reached for the oars, but they weren't there!

"I don't like this!"
"This is not easy anymore."
"What are we going to do."
"Don't worry, it's nothing, everything will smooth out soon."
"Stop rocking the boat, it only makes things worse."

There was much talk, lots of words, but no action was taken, no solutions sought to find the missing oars, it was if, they expected someone else to do it for them.

Soon, one noticed the water filling the bottom of the boat. They searched for something to bale with, one picked up a red plastic cup left over from their picnic lunch, and, began to bale, making some headway, just enough to keep the water level from rising further.

Eventually, mother nature cooperated, the wind died down, the sun peeked through the clouds. All was serene again, the surface of the water quieted. Breathing room, time to regroup, settle in, finally most of the water was gone. The leak was found, they attempted a temporary patch, using a child's pink bubble gum. It wasn't completely water tight, but enough to keep the boat from filling up again with water. The little boat's occupants, sat back, exhaling sighs of relief. Calm and the feeling of safety had returned.

It was a false calm though. The wind began again, blowing in ever stronger gusts, disappearing, reappearing, more waves. Lightening began to flicker along the horizon, thunder boomed in the distance. More talk, "Don't worry, it's off in the distance. We're doing OK, we're safe. Nothing bad is going to happen."

Ah, but as the wind increased, the small boat began to twist and turn, waves battered at them, overflowed the sides, the patch came loose, water once again began to fill the boat. More furious attempts at baling it out, trying once again, to stave off catastrophe.

The wind became more fierce, someone shouted out, "We're going to sink, or tip over! Someone has to do something."

Each of the occupant's eyes met those of another, as if to say, what can we do?

Suddenly, stillness. The storm had passed, close enough to create a momentary turbulence in the water, frightening to them. But all appeared to be well. More baling, another sticky patch. The boat seemed to be float evenly once again. More, sighs of relief. Calamity, averted.

Tired sighs were released. A small, sense of peace enveloped them. The talk turned to the end of the trip.Of how, they would eventually drift to shore. Of how, they once again survived near tragedy. Of how, things always come right in the end, don't they?

Then, a splashing, slapping, roaring music filled their ears. As one, they looked up, white foamy water, flashes of river boulder. A scream, a white knuckled grip on the sides of the boat. Panic. One began throwing his body from one side of the boat to the other, creating a whiplash of danger for all. Another, seemingly calm, eyed the rapid flow, the veils of water splashing over the huge boulders, "I knew this was going to happen. I told you so."

There were two standing on the shore, distant observers. They had seen the little boat, heading toward the narrowing channel, cries of warning unfalling, those ears attuned only to their little world, inside the little boat.

These two, standing vigil, had been waiting, hoping, watching, praying all would be well. One remained standing there upon the bank, unsure, retreating within. The other, dived into the water, hoping she had the strength to make it to the boat, strength enough to help those that appeared weaker than she.

Catastrophe struck. As if in slow motion, the two observers saw the boat wobble, rock, waver, before it turned slowly on its side, tipping the occupants out into the river, before being battered against the rocks in its path.

The watchers, one still on shore, one swimming, each felt helpless, as those within were now without. Those who had felt so safe in their little rowboat, having survived the occasional chaos thrown their way by the river.

Now, all, these former occupants of the little rowboat, were floundering, sputtering, sinking below the surface, and reappearing, all in a panic, each, individually, fighting for their very lives. But, two, were too young to fight for themselves.

The swimmer, continued, battling against the turbulent water. Time slowed, standing still.

Would she reach them in time, would it make a difference, would she be able to save those that are unable to save themselves?