Past Lives

A day that started out beautifully, Miss Daughter and I had talked out all we needed to talk out. We accomplished some things around the house, and decided to take care of some Christmas returns for her and Mr. Son. Our shopping trip was successful, entertaining, full of laughs and good feelings. Our return home was filled with more good times. The three of us playing a game, eating our dinner together, joking and laughing the entire time.

Funny how things can take a downhill turn so quickly.

Mr. Son and Miss Daughter decided to visit the nearest Red Box to rent a couple of DVDs, they were still in good spirits when they returned home.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a moment of teasing, became an all out battle of wills. Then it turned into full fledged war. Pride, manipulation, and anger came to the fore.




As I sat on the sidelines, I witnessed something that filled me with shock and sadness.

I felt as if I were in some kind of time warp. The battle I was observing was one so very much like those I had been an unwilling participant in more times than I count. The battle I witnessed this evening could have been one between my soon-to-be-ex and myself.

Only the gender roles were reversed. Miss Daughter was the one full of stubborn pride, manipulation and drama. Mr. Son was full of anger and pride also, but still wanting the evening to return to what it had been. Both stubborn, both wanting their own way, both unwilling to bend to the other, until eventually Mr. Son gave in, he let her have her way. But it was too late. She had not gotten her wishes immediately fulfilled, thus they both ended up going their separate ways, neither happy.

When the battle was in the skirmish stage, Miss Daughter was in her bedroom, talking to herself, but really talking so that I and Mr. Son would hear her. "I always win, I am more stubborn, this time is going to be no different."

Hearing her spoken thought processes, I wondered...is that what used to go through soon-to-ex's mind? He always won? I always caved in?

You see she did win. Even when Mr. Son finally got what he wanted, she still won. Her behavior had cost us all the good feelings we had been holding within us only moments before. A very familiar scenario.

My mind then went to the future, their futures. Their future relationships. Is this how it will be? These behaviors, their way of dealing with differences between loved ones, is this what they learned from their father and I?

I could imagine it in my mind's eye, each of them ending up with their opposites. Mr. Son with someone full of manipulative control needs. Miss Daughter with someone who buries their own needs to keep her happy, to avoid conflict with her.

It makes me so very sad to contemplate this. To think they may find themselves in relationships that mirror the only "loving" relationship they have witnessed.

I made the attempt to speak with each of them. To open their eyes to how they had each behaved. I failed, miserably.

Post Christmas Thoughts

JOURNALING

I had an epiphany of sorts during my alone time over the Christmas holiday.
I was thinking about all the years I have kept journals. Thirty-two years worth of words. One evening I visualized all of those old hardbound journals piled one upon the other. With the various covering designs, a huge colorful pile it would be.

As I sat contemplating all the words I have written chronicling the moments in my life, I wondered if it was worth it. All of those thin hardbound books were filled with so much. Quotations, titles of books I had read, authors names I didn't want to forget, conversations that I felt were worth remembering, lists of wants wishes and desires, and memories, so very many memories. Years of words used to dig away at my wounds trying to understand, trying to find my way to healing.

In revisiting those years and years of words written by me, I came to understood several things. It took me decades to accept all the pain I felt, and, oh how I used to chafe at the amount of time I thought it was taking to feel whole and wise. But it does take time, it does take years, it never stops. I don't feel any wiser, I wonder if I ever will. Each new day is a learning experience. Each emotion, each thought process examined is all part of the journey to the woman I hope to be on my deathbed. Knowing myself, I also realize that even if I live to be 95 I will not be satisfied with that woman. I will always be trying to become a better me.

My next little epiphany of thought was on blogging, one that has rested briefly in my brain and then flown away countless times. In the past few years I have thought this medium of journaling is an easier way to grow further faster. A somewhat easier way to understand ourselves and others than a purely private journal. The very publicness of it encourages growth. 'Tis a rare blogger that doesn't read other blogs. As we read others we realize we are not alone. The details may be different, but the emotions are so very similar. An email I recently received pointed that out to me once again. A very nice young woman stumbled across my blog and was kind enough to write to me about the entry she read. One of her statements truly explains it all. "Reading your blog just affirmed that I am not alone--despite the many times I have felt that I was." All of our life experiences are varied, we humans have a wide variety of ways of dealing with our outer world, and our inner selves, many of us keep plugging away, trying to learn to accept ourselves as we were, as we are. Attempting to learn from our pasts, the mistakes and successes. In that process of finding self-acceptance and growth we often seek affirmations that all the trying is paying off, that we are getting there. Blogging--writing and reading them--can sometimes help guide us down our various paths.

My final thoughts about my years of journaling revolved around how I process the information I glean. I am an emotional being, all of my perceptions are colored by my emotional states. At this time of year, emotionally, I am usually ready to allow most of my thoughts to lie fallow for awhile. It is a time for rumination, and even deeper introspection without always searching for answers. As the winter moves toward spring these thoughts, these emotional messages, will begin to sink their roots down deeper. Then I will be ready to open up to them once again willing to let new messages of personal growth blossom forth within me.







SOCKS

I watched the movie Peaceful Warrior not long ago.

Several of my own personal beliefs were replicated in the film, philosophical statements that resonate within me, ideas that have helped define the way I have been attempting to live my life since 1998 [the year of my first real awakening to how I was not living my life...funny I just realized...'twas almost a decade ago].

"Take out the trash...", was one of the most important lines from the film for me at this time of my life; change doesn't occur until we get rid of the trash inside our minds. All of our self-imposed limitations hold us back from being whole, from loving fully, from finding and exploring our passions, from living fully here and now.

A set of 13 Quotes from the film:

1. Paradox: Life is a mystery; don't bother figuring it out.

2. Humour: No matter what circumstances, do not lose your sense of humour.

3. Change: Do not be so sure in life; anything can change.

4. There is never nothing going on.

5. This moment: The past and the future do not matter; all that matters is now, this moment.

6. It's not the destination that brings happiness, but the journey.

7. The ones hardest to love are the ones who need it the most.

8. Take out the trash from what's inside your head.

9. Empty your mind.

10. Anger, hatred, and violence are only products of fear.

11. People are afraid of what's inside of them; when you are alone lying on your bed, do you feel empty?

12. If you loan someone $20 and they don't come back, it was probably worth it.

13. When making a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich, you must first apply the peanut butter.

I have been tortoisely slow in my transformation, but I think I am finally getting there. In 1998 a dear friend quoted John Lennon to me over and over again, until I got it. "Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans. " Since that time...I have continually tried to retrain myself to...Live Now...Experience Now.

Another concept I have worked rather diligently on in the past few years has been not allowing the little things to become huge frustrations. It is a rare day when I am frustrated by things which are just not important in the grand scheme of things.

Two frustrations from the past that stand out now in my memory, even then had me asking myself, "How important is this?"

Both little frustrations have to do with each of my children and socks. Each had little quirks that it took me a long time to 'get'.

The first has to do with Mr. Son, as a young toddler he had a problem with wearing socks, and I just didn't get it. When dressing him, his shoes and socks were the last things to go on before leaving the house. I am not a shoe wearer, thus when indoors my children seldom had them on until time to leave. From the time Mr. Son was a year old, I would sit him on the second step from the bottom on the stairs, slip his socks on, then his shoes. Each and every time he would fuss, he would wiggle his feet, wanting them off. I couldn't understand why. I would loosen the ties on his shoes and retie them, I would take his shoes off smooth out his socks and slip his shoes back on. Over and over he would continually put up a fuss. I would become irritated and impatient as we would usually be running late by the time I could get him to stop fussing and out the door. This went on for quite a while, until one day when I was in more of a hurry than usual. It happened. His socks had been washed inside out, and for some reason I hadn't reversed them before folding them together. Being short on time I didn't bother turning the socks right side out, I just slipped his socks on, then his shoes. And waited for the wiggling feet, the tugging off of the shoes, or the complaints to begin. They didn't. He was fine. His feet were fine. What was different? What made this time different? The toe seams. These little seams bothered his toes, he didn't like the feel of it. Simple. All of that frustration, a continual battle fought, over something so simple to adjust to. He still wears his socks wrong side out. Does this matter, did it matter then. Nope.

Miss Daughter had an entirely different thing about socks. I would dress her head to toe in her perfectly color matched adorable "little girl" outfits, down to matching socks. When it was time to leave the house I would ask her to bring Mommy her shoes and socks, off she would go, returning with her socks and shoes, but rarely would it be the socks I had laid out for her. The socks were invariably two different colors. Most often, I would become frustrated, run up to her bedroom to retrieve the original ones (I have a weird quirk...socks should match the pants). She would become disgruntled and pouty when I did this. I couldn't understand why. I would become more frustrated as once again it became difficult to just walk out the door on time. Until one day when we were running late to pick her brother up from preschool, I didn't bother with matching socks. And, she was happy. And eventually I finally got it. She didn't want her socks to be the same color. She was perfectly happy as long as they were two different color socks. Once again I had to ask myself, "Why is it so important to me that her socks match? Does it matter that much?" Nope. Know what? 'Tis still a rare day when she has on socks that match. Today one was yellow, the other orange.


To paraphrase all this blather, most of the little things that seem so important to us, just aren't that important, they don't matter. Change doesn't occur until we get rid of the trash inside our minds. All of our "trash" holds us back from being...here...now.








UNDEFINED

A someone, who is very dear to me, aided me in getting through this Christmas holiday. The memories of our all too brief time spent together were a counterbalance to any sadness I felt over the enormity of how different this Christmas was compared to those of my past. He is more than just a friend to me. I am unable and perhaps unwilling to define what we are to each other. I know I feel love for him, there is respect, admiration, and a delicious physicalness too. I don't feel the need to place a definition upon the relationship, it just is. It's a now thing...that is enough.

He has mentioned to me several times that he believes the right people enter our lives at the time we need them most. A viewpoint I agree with. But I also think we have to be open to that possibility, we have to be ready. There have been times in my life when someone entered it, and I pushed them away, because I was unable to allow them in, I was too deeply hidden inside my shell of fear and self-protection. I think I lost the chance to have several good friends of the heart because of that shell. Lucky for me, I am more open, more willing to let other souls touch mine now. I know my soul fabric can hold many stars, and he has become a sparkling healing star, a welcome star.






HUH?

I knew that parenting Miss Daughter during a divorce would be very difficult. In some ways when I compare one year ago to today, I can clearly see it is not as bad as it could be. But, there are moments when I have no idea what I am doing. Sometimes she does things in such an "out there" blatant way I have difficulty believing she is as intelligent and full of common sense as I usually think she is.

A few minutes ago, I went to the cupboard to see if I had any wine left. The bottle of vodka and the bottle of rum are gone. Simply gone. I have to admit, I used to steal my parents alcoholic beverages, but I didn't take the entire bottle, I watered them down, (still not smart...but really... taking the whole bottle?). Did she honestly think I wouldn't notice? I wouldn't care? She hasn't realized it yet, but her car keys are now in my pocket.

Then there is...she becomes angry with me when she is out of gas money? How is that my fault?

Happy Christmas Eve...

Another new experience for me, totally completely new.

I will be spending Christmas Eve alone for the first time in my life. The funny thing is, I don't feel sad about it. The thought is there, that I should feel sad, (and a huge part of me wishes I were spending it in the arms of someone very special), but I also think of it as a test for me, of my ability to be content with me.

I've had years of special Christmas Eves, luckily most of them were filled with love, joy, and sharing of time with loved ones.

As an adult without any real planning this night became the special night of the season. I have spent my entire adult life with my husband. Many years, it would be the day I would spend creating special candies, cookies, and other sweets (I never liked preparing things too far ahead of time, freshness is very important to me, aside from being a major procrastinator). In the early years of our relationship, it was the evening we set aside for ourselves as a couple, before we would have to travel between family events. An evening we spent preparing, creating and finally eating a special meal together. As our children were added to our lives the tradition was expanded upon...this tradition of keeping Christmas Eve privately ours...'twas one of the few nights in our busy lives that all the rest of the world was shut out except for the four of us in our little nuclear family.

As I review these many Christmas Eves filling my memory, I am filled with a soft contentment. The majority of my memories are of time spent filled with love, laughter, silliness, and sharing. (There was always some gluttony as well--our tummies were always over full by the end of the evening). But mostly the love shines through the memories....last year's was difficult, it was a Christmas in which the heavy clouds of melancholy could not be shaken from my heart, I tried, O, I tried, but was not completely successful. With the distance of time though, I can recall moments when there was a break in the clouds and a beam of loving light broke through my heart, which I was then able to spread to the rest of my loves.

This year is different though. Another is going to try her best to recreate "our" traditional Christmas Eve feast. As Mr. Son told me this last night, I watched his eyes cloud over, a look in his eyes of fear...fear that I would be hurt. I wasn't. I reassured him it's OK, (plus I know my mother-in-law will not be able to recreate the meal as I would. A little gloating here, I am a better cook than she, except when it comes to lasagna--then she is the master chef), I wanted him to know that I will be alright tonight, (at least I think I will).

The memories are flowing through me this morning though.

I feel as if I should be busy already, as this day was most always spent creating. The meal itself quite simple, but each recipe lovingly prepared is ingrained within my memory. Hor' dourves prepared and set out to whet appetites, the perfect blend of seasonings for the lobster tails, attempting to grill each porterhouse steak to please each individual's taste (gotta admit I screwed this up a lot, not running often enough between outside deck and the kitchen), a salad blending that makes my mouth water just to think of it, fluffy baked potatoes, broccoli florets adding the perfect touch of color, goblets filled with wine or sparkling juices, and several desserts to choose from. Then after the sharing of our feast, games played, or a family movie to watch, silliness to giggle over, and one special gift for each child to open before bed.

So, in my heart there is sadness. Sadness that I have taken away from my children something special, a time that was...just theirs...just ours. Something I can never give them again in quite the same way. But, I have to accept that, I have to acknowledge that change happens, I gave them my best when they were children. Now they are young adults, they have their own traditions to create, and I have new ones of my own to find.

I wish a happy Christmas to all regardless of their beliefs, because in spite of all the glitter, all the hype, all of the mumbo jumbo about this time of year...for me...it is a time to look back and allow myself to be filled with gratitude for what I have, not what I don't.

We can each find the joy and peace, sometimes all it takes is being very very still, and opening our senses to all there is...inside and out.

The Christmas Spirit

Not long ago, I stumbled across a website devoted to Christmas and the reasons thought to be behind many of our modern traditions.


A Pagan Holiday?




















Christmas was once a movable feast celebrated at many different times during the year. The choice of December 25, was made by Pope Julius I, in the 4th century A.D., because this coincided with the pagan rituals of Winter Solstice, or Return of the Sun. The intent was to replace the pagan celebration with the Christian one.

From what I gather Christmas still is...a movable feast. Since so many families no longer live close to each other they choose a weekend before or after to share the time. In my own extended family, 'tis a rare year when all can gather on the designated day on the calendar, thus the feast/celebration/gift exchange is moved to a time when as many as possible can attend.

Historians have traced some of the current traditions surrounding Father Christmas, or Santa Claus, back to ancient Celtic roots. Father Christmas's elves are the modernization of the "Nature folk" of the Pagan religions; his reindeer are associated with the "Horned God," which was one of the Pagan deities.

This seems rather fitting, considering the ultra-commercialization of Christmas, and all that entails. The modern day deity could well be viewed as the Shopping Mall Santa, with the long lines of parents with small children in tow standing on line to have their photograph taken with the White-bearded, red-suited Mall Santa, and his Elfphettes.

Christmas Foods Around the World:

Animal Crackers are not really crackers, but cookies that were imported to the United States from England in the late 1800s. Barnum's circus-like boxes were designed with a string handle so that they could be hung on a Christmas tree. (My English blogging friends do keep telling me the British love their biscuits!)

If traveling in France during the Christmas season, it is interesting to note that different dishes and dining traditions reign in popularity in different parts of the country. In south France, for instance, a Christmas loaf (pain calendeau) is cut crosswise and is eaten only after the first part has been given to a poor person. In Brittany, buckwheat cakes and sour cream is the most popular main dish. In Alsace, a roasted goose is the preferred entrée. In Burgundy, turkey and chestnuts are favored. In the Paris region, oysters are the favorite holiday dish, followed by a cake shaped like a Yule log. (I need to research the regional differences in the basic American Christmas feast, I am sure there are notable differences aside from the traditional ham or turkey)

At Christmas, Ukrainians prepare a traditional twelve-course meal. A family's youngest child watches through the window for the evening star to appear, a signal that the feast can begin.

In Armenia, the traditional Christmas Eve meal consists of fried fish, lettuce, and spinach. The meal is traditionally eaten after the Christmas Eve service, in commemoration of the supper eaten by Mary on the evening before Christ's birth.

In Portugal, the traditional Christmas meal (consoada) is eaten in the early hours of Christmas Day.

It is my hope that since the United State's was once called "the melting pot" that many family's Christmas traditions are filled with special recipes and activities that incorporate traditions from their ancestor's immigrant backgrounds. Sadly, I fear that for the majority this has all but disappeared, or if any...most of the family members have no idea why they eat the things they do. We have become a country that seems to despise any but the so-called "American Way".

A Multilingual Christmas Greeting For Those of Us Who Revere Our Differences.

Afrikaner (Afrikaans) ~ "Een Plesierige Kerfees"
Argentine ~ "Felices Pascuas"
Bohemian ~ "Vesele Vanoce"
Brazilian ~ "Boas Festas"
Chinese (Cantonese) ~ "Saint Dan Fai Lok"
Danish ~ "Glædelig Jul"
Dutch ~ "Vrolijk Kerstfeest"
English ~ "Merry Christmas"
Filipino ~ "Maligayang Pasko"
Finnish ~ "Hyvaa Joulua"
French ~ "Joyeux Noël"
German ~ "Froehliche Weihnachten"
Greek ~ "Kala Christouyenna"
Hawaiian ~ "Mele Kalikimaka"
Hebrew ~ "Mo'adim Lesimkha"
Icelandic ~ "Gledileg Jol"
Indonesian ~ "Selamat Hari Natal"
Irish ~ "Nollaig Shona Dhuit"
Italian ~ "Buone Feste Natalizie"
Japanese ~ "Kurisumasu Omedeto"
Korean ~ "Sung Tan Chuk Ha"
Lithuanian ~ "Linksmu Kaledu"
Malay ~ "Selamat Hari Natal"
Maori ~ "Meri Kirihimete"
Norwegian ~ "God Jul"
Romanian ~ "Craciun Fericit"
Peruvian ~ "Felices Fiestas"
Portugese ~ "Boas Festas"
Slovakian ~ "Vesele Vianoce"
Spanish ~ "Feliz Navidad"
Swedish ~ "God Jul"
Welsh ~ "Nadolig Llawen"

Christmas Gifts:

In 1947, Toys for Tots started making the holidays a little happier for children by organizing its first Christmas toy drive for needy youngsters.

In an effort to solicit cash to pay for a charity Christmas dinner in 1891, a large crab pot was set down on a San Francisco street, becoming the first Salvation Army collection kettle.

The first charity Christmas card was produced by UNICEF in 1949. The picture chosen for the card was painted not by a professional artist but by a seven-year-old girl. The girl was Jitka Samkova of Rudolfo, a small town in the former nation of Czechoslovakia. The town received UNICEF assistance after World War II, inspiring Jitka to paint some children dancing around a maypole. She said her picture represented "joy going round and round."

All Christmas traditions I whole-heartedly embrace. Hearing what I hear from the many callers needing assistance each year at this time, I am very happy these charities are still around...Sigh...the problem is...they do not even come close to giving all the aid that is needed.

Christmas Music

The custom of singing Christmas carols is very old - the earliest English collection was published in 1521. Christmas caroling began as an old English custom called Wassailing - toasting neighbors to a long and healthy life.

The "Twelve Days of Christmas" was originally written to help Catholic children, in England, remember different articles of faith during the persecution by Protestant Monarchs.
The "true love" represented God, and the gifts all different ideas:
The "Partridge in a pear tree" was Christ
2 Turtle Doves = The Old and New Testaments
3 French Hens = Faith, Hope and Charity-- the Theological Virtues
4 Calling Birds = the Four Gospels and/or the Four Evangelists
5 Golden Rings = The first Five Books of the Old Testament, the "Pentateuch", which relays the history of man's fall from grace
6 Geese A-laying = the six days of Creation
7 Swans A-swimming = the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, the seven sacraments
8 Maids A-milking = the eight beatitudes
9 Ladies Dancing = the nine Fruits of the Holy Spirit
10 Lords A-leaping = the ten commandments
11 Pipers Piping = the eleven faithful apostles
12 Drummers Drumming = the twelve points of doctrine in the Apostle's Creed

Silent Night was written in 1818, by an Austrian priest Joseph Mohr. He was told the day before Christmas that the church organ was broken and would not be prepared in time for Christmas Eve. He was saddened by this and could not think of Christmas without music, so he wanted to write a carol that could be sung by choir to guitar music. He sat down and wrote three stanzas. Later that night the people in the little Austrian Church sang "Stille Nacht" for the first time.

The popular Christmas song "Jingle Bells" was composed in 1857 by James Pierpont, and was originally called "One-Horse Open Sleigh."

The morning after he wrote the song, "White Christmas" — Berlin usually stayed up all night writing — the songwriter went to his office and told his musical secretary, "Grab your pen and take down this song. I just wrote the best song I've ever written — hell, I just wrote the best song that anybody's ever written!"

When I examine many of my favorite Christmas memories, all are filled with these sounds of the season. Singing Christmas hymns at Christmas Eve Services, caroling with family members, the church youth group or scout groups, attending Christmas Concerts, singing Christmas songs in the car as we traveled to a relative''s home for the family gathering, watching the old Christmas musicals from the 40's and 50's. I find it rather interesting that there are so very few new Christmas songs written and recorded.

Mistletoe Kisses

Long before it was used as a "kiss encourager" during the Christmas season, mistletoe had long been considered to have magic powers by Celtic and Teutonic peoples. It was said to have the ability to heal wounds and increase fertility. Celts hung mistletoe in their homes in order to bring themselves good luck and ward off evil spirits.

I really like mistletoe. My parents always had mistletoe hanging in the house. Thinking about it, why shouldn't it be considered to have healing (magical) powers? Kissing is touch, touch is healing, which in turn leaves us feeling warm and loved thus not filled with evil spirits. In addition kisses often lead to more intimacy...thus an increase in fertility...makes sense to me.

Christmas Wishes:

"Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love. " ~Hamilton Wright Mabi~

"Let Us Keep Christmas
Whatever else be lost among the years,
Let us keep Christmas still a shining thing;
Whatever doubts assail us, or what fears,
Let us hold close one day, remembering
It's poignant meaning for the hearts of men.
Let us get back our childlike faith again. "
~ Grace Noll Crowell~

"Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childhood days, recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth, and transport the traveler back to his own fireside and quiet home
Dickens~

"May you have the gladness of Christmas which is hope;
The spirit of Christmas which is peace; The heart of Christmas which is love."
~Ada V. Hendricks~

Something that is renewed each year...these feelings of hope, and faith in the basic goodness of our fellow man...even the most cynical of us...seem to feel it.

Or, maybe not...

Christmas Cynicism

"I hear that in many places something has happened to Christmas; that it is changing from a time of merriment and carefree gaiety to a holiday which is filled with tedium; that many people dread the day and the obligation to give Christmas presents is a nightmare to weary, bored souls; that the children of enlightened parents no longer believe in Santa Claus; that all in all, the effort to be happy and have pleasure makes many honest hearts grow dark with despair instead of beaming with good will and cheerfulness.
Julia Peterkin "A Plantation Christmas" (1934)~

In the old days, it was not called the Holiday Season; the Christians called it 'Christmas' and went to church; the Jews called it 'Hanukkah' and went to synagogue; the atheists went to parties and drank. People passing each other on the street would say 'Merry Christmas!' or 'Happy Hanukkah!' or (to the atheists) 'Look out for the wall!"
~Dave Barry "Christmas Shopping: A Survivor's Guide"~

"Christmas begins about the first of December with an office party and ends when you finally realize what you spent, around April fifteenth of the next year."
~P. J. O'Rourke~

"In the United States Christmas has become the rape of an idea."
~Richard Bach~

Christmas Quiz

Can you name Santa's Eight Tiny Reindeer?

Which reindeer is not mentioned in the poem 'Twas the Night Before Christmas?

Who were the four ghosts in Charles Dickens's "A Christmas Carol"?

It is estimated that 400,000 people become sick each year from eating ____ _________?






Christmas links:
http://www.corsinet.com/braincandy/xmastrivia.html
http://en.wikipedia.org
http://allthingschristmas.com/.../aroundworld.html (Merry Christmas in different languages)



Quiz answers:
Santa's Reindeers are Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen
Reindeer not mentioned was Rudolph.
Ghosts: Jacob Marley, The Ghost of Christmas Past, The Ghost of Christmas Present, The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.
Sick: Tainted leftovers

Winter's Gift

Snow is falling on my world, creating a hushed quiet beauty...a winter lullaby.

Venturing out earlier today, a curious warmth seeped into my soul, even as I felt the frigid cold of winter's breath on my ungloved hands.

Snow falls silently...creating a peaceful otherworldly air to surround and cushion life's daily cacophony.

Even with the city filled with harried shoppers, there was a soft languid halo of calm emanating outward from me to them as I traveled through the crowded streets and shops. Each shop brought a new encounter, smiles and small talk were exchanged, a harmony of good will was shared. My heart still has a soft smile embossed upon it.

As I left the snow shrouded city, to begin my journey homeward, I held onto the tranquility mother nature had given me this day.

Once I was off the main highway, the stark skeletal outlines of trees lined the way, each tree limb appearing in the beams of my lights as if a fairy had spread them with powdered sugar frosting. The boughs of the pines gracefully arching ever downward to kiss the whitened earth.

Wending my way home with slow caution, spellbound by the elegant swirling stars of alabaster being poured from the heavens. I drove with the window partially down, the only sound the crisp crunch of the tires as the tread sought the road below the powder.

There is treacherous artistry in the mute white covered void of winding roads I travel. The snow often lies undisturbed until I pass through. No delineation between the road and the swards of grass on the edge. Only the beam of my headlights and memory to the light the way.

As I followed the curving road toward home, I reveled in the serene solitude of this newly muted world I inhabit. Taking the final turn I saw the warm amber glow of light shining out from a hilltop home. Reminding me I was not alone in the ghostly night. My mind paused to reflect on this realization, and the romantic notions of warmth and safety embodied in that first glimpse of golden light emanating outward. Momentarily, I was fixated upon the thought...nothing is as it appears. There is sadness, heartache, sickness, and strife hidden behind the walls of my neighbor's homes. My spirit was unruffled by those thoughts though. Our lives are filled with lots of stuff... we experience many emotions, those are just a small sampling. For each moment of unhappiness in these lives we lead there are also moments filled with joy, love, peace and contentment. Even if those moments last only as long as the melting snowflakes glittering in my hair.

What If?

December 11, 2000

The U.S. Supreme Court Decides Bush Vs. Gore

The Supreme Court's decision in this case ended Florida's statewide ballot recount and allowed Florida Secretary of State Katherine Harris to certify George W. Bush as the winner of Florida's 25 electoral votes. These votes gave Bush a majority of the Electoral College with 271 votes and enabled him to win the US Presidency. Though Gore received 543,816 more votes than Bush, his defeat in the Electoral College lost him the presidency. The court cited what reason for stopping the recount?


Answer: By a vote of 7-2, the Court held that the Florida Supreme Court's scheme for recounting ballots was unconstitutional, and by a vote of 5-4, the Court held that no alternative scheme could be established within the time limits established by Florida Legislature, The per curiam opinion was argued on the basis of Equal Protection.

Can't but wonder....what if...

Memories

Early last week, I began a blog draft about my earliest childhood memories. For some reason feeling the need to journal them. I can't say why I suddenly felt the need. It has been a great while since I revisited the past in any depth. During the attempt, I did realize something though. There is one year of my life filled with memories. More memories for that one single year, than the next 10 years all together. Even with the realization that the years after I reached the age of 5 are the most painful to recall, it still surprised me.

Fast forward to yesterday, again memories assailed me. I was driving home after running some errands, and I plugged in a CD. One I had burned myself a while back. The first few songs were toe-tapping, hand clapping, sing along, dance in my seat songs. I was enjoying my drive home, even in the heavy Saturday evening traffic. Then as I was getting closer to home, two songs played back to back, why I had them on this particular CD I couldn't fathom, it had been one that was meant to conjure up feelings of joy, not sadness. The End of an Innocence came up, then Forgiveness. I was filled with a sudden feeling of sadness. Thinking about the lives I have changed because of a life I could no longer live.

I had thought I had let most of the feeling of self-fault go. I had thought I was over the part in which I blamed only myself for the end of my marriage. I thought I was reaching the point, in which no matter how difficult it was to bring myself to leave, how difficult it is, and how difficult it will be, I had accepted it, accepted that things are as they should be...for now. A part of me has. But The End of Innocence, really hit me hard. Even though my children are young adults, even though they have been fully supportive of this decision I have made, I also know there are times when they wish everything were as it used to be. Funny...after reading what I just wrote...there has been no time when I have wished for it to be "as it used to be". But, I know my children have felt it, and from time to time, will feel it again. I wondered then, will my Soon-to-be-ex and I ever reach a point in time when we will be able to discuss all of these emotions, his, mine, our children's, peaceably? I hope so. I wish it so.

The early days of my marriage flickered and flashed in a slow slide show through my memory. Those times when we relied on each other. Those times in my life when I needed his emotional support, and he gave it to me. The days my children were born, and how very loving and supportive he was. Those few days after each birth, when he was there, strongly, supportively there. Unfortunately it did not last, but he was there when my need was most great. His emotional support, his love, was strongly needed, and he supplied it. I will forever be grateful to him for that.

Many other times swept across my memory's viewfinder, each memory slice was of our early years, memories in which I was in need, and he filled those needs. Memories of when he was in need, and I was able to fulfill his needs. Once we were good to each other, and even at times, maybe, we were good for each other. Maybe.

Sadly, there came to be too many times when we were no longer able to fulfill the needs of the other, and that signaled the end of what was, and the beginning of what would never be.

It's funny, I have never been one who remembers lyrics, or artists, but those two songs and several I heard tonight while driving to a family celebration, brought home to me how important music is in our lives. Again tonight I was assailed by memories. The songs Miss Daughter and I listened to, and loudly, joyously belted out the lyrics to, were songs from my youth and early teen years, the overwhelming emotion was pure joy. They brought back memories of time I spent with friends. Particular days, or nights, were brought to the forefront of my mind. It was a heady feeling, an enjoyable feeling.

I have stated here before how I have always held the fear of losing memories, but I learned an important lesson these past few days. The memories are there when I am ready for them. Some are good, some are great, some are...not so great...some are awful...but they are there to be cued up when the time is right.

Many memories are so deeply embedded within my psyche that it may take a particular angle of the sun shining on the leaf of a tree, a scent, a song lyric, a poem, a story, a photograph, or a combination of all, or some of those things to bring the memories forward, but they do come.

For some reason this knowledge pleases me.

That Loving Feeling

I say, "I love you."

What does that mean?

We humans, I, have much faith in that little word.

Too much?

There is within me this faith in love.

I have almost sanguine expectations when it comes to love.

No matter how cynical I become at times, I still have, and hope I will always have faith in love.

I have this idealistic faith that love has magical properties, that love can heal, that love can soothe. Faith that love can make everything right in the end.

Is my faith in love misplaced?

My heart/soul/mind image of the many loves contained within me, is of a twining, twisting, turning, and tangled many colored braid of strength, deep within me, even with those that have caused pain, this braid is the core of my faith in love. So, no, I don't opine my faith in love is misplaced.

I sustain this faith with an abundance of hope. The hope that if I express my love, if my intentions are good and pure, if my actions demonstrate my love, and are interpreted correctly...those I love will know I love them.

* * * * * * *

So many different loves in our lives, some easily definable, some not so easy.

The love we feel toward our parents, siblings, and extended family members, is sometimes the easiest to define, and the most difficult love of all to reconcile within ourselves. For, there is a lifetime full of the give and take of love, of learning how to, and how not to love, so many memories and emotions, beautiful and beastly, holy and horrid, incorporated in familial love.

Those of us that are parents, are filled with a love which is wondrous to behold, but which is also entangled by the dreams we have for our children, this love oftentimes is colored with pride and disappointment in our children, or with what we may perceive as our failings as a parent. But always, always, each thought, emotion or projection is embossed with our love for them. This love we hold within us for our children is as much a part of us as the blood that flows through our veins.

When I think of my friends, ah, so many different levels of love there are. These people that are intertwined in one way or another in my life, whether it be the past, the present, or even the future. These for me, are the steadiest, the safest of loves.

Then there are those, that at one time or another, whether the relationship lasted briefly, or long, these loves linger on. I loved them in a different way. With an intensity that filled my soul, my heart, my very nerve endings. This kind of love seems to involve even the chemical processes of my body, along with and beside the innate sexual being I am. This form of love encompasses another part of me that is separate from familial or friendly love. There is a longing, and at times an almost hungering need intertwined within this paradigm. These loves I find most difficult to fully define, each so varied, but with similarities as well. Because, enshrined within these loves were the ultimate of emotional and physical highs and lows. No matter the depths it fell to, I always knew love was there, even at my angriest, my most despairing, my most pained, I knew it was there, ready to heal me, and hopefully the one I loved. Even though they end, these loves do not disappear. Somewhere deep inside me, the remnants are there, no matter the pain involved during the loving times, during the ending times, there is a sparkling piece of my heart that will always remain theirs.

Over time love can ebb and flow like the tides, or the phases of the moon. But just like the ocean, or the moon, love endures, as does my faith in the power and magic of love.

Split Decisions

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It has been well over a week since I really spent any time thinking about my Soon-To-Be-Ex-Husband, I was so very angry, and disappointed at his last attempt at the game of control. Thus, I didn't want to think about him at all, add in a very busy week, and it was quite easy to relegate him to the back of my mind.

But I saw him tonight, for the first time in...hmmm...I am not quite sure how long, perhaps a month. Anyway, I saw him quite briefly earlier this evening, and the feelings I experienced had me wondering, thinking, and reaching conclusions.

I am well past the anger I felt the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, plus this past Friday afternoon, I did something about that, probably not the brightest impulsive decision I have made, but I did it, and no going back on that.**

As I was saying, I saw him briefly tonight. I was standing at the front door to my old home speaking with Miss Daughter, when he walked up behind her and our eyes met. There was no animosity in his expression, nor in mine. My immediate impulse was...to ask how he is doing, how his trip last week had been, how his Aunt and Uncle were doing, how his Mother is and when she is planning her next visit, how his work is going. I was/am truly interested in all of those things.

But, I didn't ask. I said nothing, not even hello, (which is not my normal behavior toward anyone), I hugged Miss Daughter goodbye and left. As I drove away, first I questioned myself as to why I behave that way with him now. It has become a habit, and I couldn't remember why...then I remembered. In early March, I read an article, written by Dr. Joseph Carver, about controlling people, how they are almost compelled to control, how they find it very hard to let go, and how the one escaping their control should behave to keep them at a distance, to give them no false hopes the relationship (their control) can be revived. So, I keep myself aloof, I try very hard not to engage in any conversational topics beyond our children, or the logistics of the divorce itself.

I am saddened by it, but it has become a part of my behavior with him of late. I also know for now, I must continue similar behavior, at least until things are settled and the divorce is final.

As I was driving home, several thoughts were flickering through my brain;

I am happier without him in my daily life, most of the time life seems...easier...putting some of those fears which haunted me for so many years behind me I suppose. Another thought briefly flashed through my mind as well, all of us who have been in committed relationships probably think it from time to time. It will probably not be the last time either.

The thought was...

Could we ever make it work? If I went back, if we talked and worked really really hard, could we work our way through it, would it work? Just as quickly I thought...no..no...no...sadly no...it wouldn't, we couldn't. He doesn't think his way is the wrong way, at least not if the way he treats our children is any measure, and not by the little controlling mind games he still plays with me. So, no, we will never be together again.




















I do hope, oh how I hope, we will someday be friends. For you see, I do love him, I think I always will, I just cannot love him as a life partner (not that we were partners, although for so many years I refused to see I was only a possession to be controlled). I know with certainty I could never trust any changes, I would always be waiting, I would always be walking on egg shells, I would always be wondering when it would start again.

§

** Friday my work day ended earlier than normal, as I was driving past my old home, I realized my Soon-To-Be-Ex-Husband would not be home for several hours yet. I also realized no one has a key to the house but him. Miss Daughter has to be able to get in somehow. So he must leave at least one door unlocked for her. He did. I went in. I opened up the storage closet filled with our Christmas decorations, and I took some. Not many, a couple of strings of lights, the ornaments that I think of as more mine than his (most were gifted to me over the years from friends and family members), my favorite Christmas tree skirt, and a Christmas print I hang on the wall each year. I rationalized it by telling myself, it would have happened eventually, it was easier without him there, and I didn't take any of the family ornaments, or any that his grandmother had given me/us. Dumb? Maybe. I will know soon enough, when he realizes those things are missing. A part of me feels as if I was stealing, feels as if I violated his space, for that is how I would feel if he did that here. Granted there is nothing here that he would want...except maybe me...and that is only a maybe in my mind at this point...there are many times when I believe he is rather relieved I ended our marriage, he just hasn't admitted it to himself yet.

§

What Will They Become?

Today, I heard the editor of college newspaper describe her generation (Gen-Y) as the A.D.D. (Attention Deficit Disorder) Generation.

Funny, I recently participated in a conversation concerning this same subject.

Do you think it so, are they?

Hmm, let's think about this.

Almost all Gen-Y'ers have grown up in homes filled with multiple television sets (often bigger and bigger as technology changed), cable TV with hundreds of stations, VCR's that quickly morphed into DVD players, computers with internet access (thus instant messengering, and the abbreviated communication that goes along with that), video game systems that also keep getting bigger and better. I know very few Gen-Y'ers, in fact I know none, that do not have their own personal mobile cell phones, and most have their very own personal televisions/DVD players, stereos, MP3 players, computers, and game systems. All of which are also quite passive forms of entertainment.

This is also the generation that has no clue McDonald's and Taco Bell didn't always exist, fast food at it fastest.

Then think of the birthday celebrations for many Gen-Y'ers, again they are being entertained, not entertaining themselves, at the parties offered by Mc'Donald's, Chucky Cheese, or the parent's hired entertainment.

The ADD Generation? Hmm...they do bore easily...many expect to be entertained, and all of the entertainment must move quickly to keep their attention. Why?

Is it us, (their parents), our wishing them to have all that we did not, our spend, spend, spend, and bigger is better consumerism, our McMansion "keep up with the Jones's" mentalities?

Maybe...

And/Or...

It could be...

That this is also the generation who's Nanny was the television (many consider this a valid theory). Remember, the average attention span for a child is 3-5 minutes per year of age. Thus, to keep a young child's interest, things have to move quickly, or they will lose interest and go looking for Mommy or Daddy to keep them entertained.

Each succeeding generation, since WWII, has experienced a lengthier childhood. Meaning, most are not expected to do more than go to school and play until they are through with college. Oh, they may get a part-time job, but if it interferes with their grades, the job is the first thing to go. These youngsters also live at home longer, or start out living on their own, but end up moving back to their parent's homes over and over again. Or, they have their own place, but guess who is paying the rent? Mom and Dad.

I look at my own son, he moved out on his own at the age of 19, within three months his father had purchased a mobile home and placed it on our summer property, then offered it to Mr. Son--expense free. (He didn't have to take his Dad up on the offer, but he did.) Mr. Son lived here, with the occasional roommate, for two years, before good ol' Mom decided it was the perfect place to live, and even then...I asked him...if my moving in was alright with him. There are times when I have a hard time believing I did that (part of it was out of respect, it was his home after all), But, still...he was living rent/utility free, doing nothing to earn that privilege, on property I owned, and yet, I asked if it was OK for me to live here!

In my line of work, I end up meeting the poorest of the poor, and I am often very surprised at their sense of entitlement. When I take a hard look at how many of us Boomer's and early Gen-X'ers have raised our children...I know exactly where some of it comes from.

Don't get me wrong, I love my children and most of their friends, they have many redeeming qualities, who they each are makes me proud to know them...most of the time...but I also recognize that there are some aspects of their lives that need some work...and maybe...some of that is due to their parent's mistakes in giving and giving, and giving them the things they wanted (not just needed)...without expecting it to be earned.

I am also not stereotyping an entire generation, I know many Gen-Y young people, some are over-achievers, some are under-achievers, most fit somewhere in between. All have many wonderful aspects about their characters.

I suppose I am attempting to define something that is perhaps undefinable.

Each generation changes as society changes, and in the past 100 years, our society has experienced change faster than any other time in human history...maybe...it is the faster pace.

Maybe the ADD Generation will be able to keep up better, with less stress, than we, their parents, have.

Or, we have created a generation with very low expectations of themselves.