Nosebleed

Rhiannon riding in Arberth. From The Mabinogion

I woke up this morning and had a nosebleed. That's never a good sign. It usually means my blood pressure is high and so is my anxiety. Not a good start to the day, generally speaking, but not all anxiety is bad. We're moving forward, and doing so in a way I had hoped and thought that we would. Just because it isn't happening fast enough for me doesn't mean it isn't happening. That's something.

I woke up around 4:00 AM and couldn't get back to sleep. It doesn't happen often. Sleep is one of those physical functions that I can usually count on, and I am ever so grateful for that. But sometimes, like this morning, I wake up early and I can't shut my head off. This hasn't always been so pleasant. Sometimes I lay in the darkness, freaking out about the places I haven't been and the things I haven't done. I feel old and a little panicked. I hear the clock on my life ticking, I worry about years wasted not doing the things that I want to do. It's a helpless feeling, because it isn't about desire, imagination or motivation, but about resources. At times I have felt that I would spend the rest of my life struggling without ever really having the opportunity to live. But things are moving forward.

Once upon a time I felt like a cautionary tale to all the other good little Catholic boys and girls. "This is what happens when you don't do what you're told, don't do what you are supposed to do." You grow up, go to college, get a job that you hate and work long hours at it. Complaining is mandatory, and the more you have to complain about the better. Maybe you get married and have children. If you're a woman, you give up your own ambitions in favor of supporting those of your husband. Worse, it's expected of you. If you're lucky, there might be something in it for you. Maybe at the end of your life, when you've been worked to death and your mind is tired (or if you're a married woman, you've sublimated your own desires for so long you no longer remember what they were), if you've been very very good and squirreled away your nuts, you might get to do something you enjoy. From the time I was very young, none of that sounded at all appealing to me. NONE of it. In fact, when I was in Kindergarten and the teacher asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I said "retired". I didn't know it wasn't a thing I could be. I just knew that my grandparents did it, and though they were always busy, they seemed to really enjoy their lives. The other part of that was that my grandparents didn't have to go to school. As a child my greatest wish ever was that I would never have to go to school again, so even on that level, "retired" sounded like a pretty good deal.

And then you grow up. I tried to do things the 'right' way, I really did. It was awful. I didn't fit. I didn't fit in anything I did. Sure, I know how to toe a line, but it's exceptionally unnatural for me. It made me physically sick. I know how to be polite, how to sit calmly at a table with my napkin in my lap. I know how to sit up straight, and which utensils to use when. I can beat around the bush with the best of them too. Manners are cool. Everybody should learn some. But sometimes subtlety doesn't work. I didn't get that for awhile. For a long time I felt like the only thing I got right at all was having my daughter. If my only legacy is the decent human being I brought into the world then hey, that's something. Very nearly enough, really. But you know, I never got married, so judge away if you must.

Somewhere along the way I learned to be direct. Unladylike, perhaps (and at times VERY unladylike), but more me and more effective. It was the first inkling I had that maybe, just maybe, there was more than one way to get from A to B.

Have you ever dreamed that you were flying?  From the time I was little I used to have a recurring dream about flying. It was kind of funny, really. Everybody around me was flapping their arms and flying around successfully and happily. I would flap like crazy and never get more than a couple of feet off the ground. It never changed. Even as an adult, flap, flap, flap, nothing. Until a couple of years ago. It was the same dream, but this time I instinctively just raised my hands above my head like Superman, and off I went like a rocket. I know it was just a dream, but the message wasn't lost on me. The thing that had held me back was my belief that I had to do it like everybody else. It was just a stupid dream, but it changed everything.

I'm human. I care what people think. I don't care enough though, to change my priorities. I didn't get married. It wasn't because I failed, it was because I didn't want to. I work for myself. It isn't because I'm unemployable (in fact, I work happily with other open-minded, artistic folks with a shared goal), but because it's preferable to me. I've learned that sometimes, life is ugly and messy, and it's okay. It's okay to look at the mess and talk about the mess. The mess has far less power over you when you aren't trying to shove it aside like it never existed.  Sometimes, the mess is the lesson you need to learn before you are allowed to move on. You can't move on if you aren't willing to embrace all the things, messy, not messy.

These are the sorts of things I think about now when I wake up at 4:00 AM and can't get back to sleep. I look back on lessons instead of mistakes. My life hasn't been about rebellion and wrong turns, it been about moving in the right direction for me. I got something valuable from every experience in my life, even those that were the most difficult. There are things I never would have learned about human nature, or even my own nature (and capability and strength) without those experiences. All of it a means to an end. I may not be where I want to be yet, but I'm most definitely on my way. Knowing that makes for a much better 4:00 AM experience.

Poverty and Homelessness

A work in progress

There has been a lot of talk among my friends about poverty and homelessness lately. It has all been really constructive, positive and loving "What can I do to help the cause" sort of talk, and it's all good, but it's brought up a lot of things for me that I still really struggle with. Once upon a time, I thought some time and distance would fix the emotional wounds that are caused by poverty and homelessness, but I suppose it isn't that simple. Yes, I have been on welfare. My daughter and I have been homeless twice. We couch surfed so we were lucky, but luck is relative, I suppose. I grew up thinking, no, believing with my whole heart, that God never gives you more than you can handle, that adversity makes you stronger, that if you are polite and kind and do the right things, then bad things can't touch you, and that family will always be there for you. I believed that our lives are as positive or negative as the choices we make, but that we always had a choice. I know better than all that now. I wish I didn't, and maybe that's why I don't really talk about it, but if I can make just one person understand, or if I can take the self-hatred out of someone else's experience, then this difficult and painful disclosure is worthwhile. Sometimes things do the most harm if they're allowed to fester below the surface and never allowed exposure to the light of day. And it IS a new day, but nothing can erase what we've been through.

Poverty is one of those things that's extremely misunderstood. There's this idea that there is a solid safety net, that a person has to err egregiously to find themselves struggling financially, and boy, if you end up homeless,  then certainly you must have done SOMETHING to deserve that. I'll tell you what I did: I had a child. Even though it was the best, most positive and straight up honorable thing I've ever done with my life, it meant I was automatically living below the poverty line. I didn't get any child support. It happens. I hadn't finished college yet, so the amount of money I could make was negligible. I depended on welfare and the money I could make either working at home (I was a sculptor) or at jobs I could bring my child to. My grandmother helped me out a lot for awhile and we were okay, but then she died. My parents tried to help inasmuch as they could too, but the whole structure of my family had dissolved and my personal safety net was gone. Then, everything changed.

I won't get into all the details because they are tedious. But the reality for the average poor person looks something like trying to pay $800 worth of bills with $600 every month. Month after month. It fluctuates up and down periodicity depending on what you yourself are able to make (Congratulations on your new job. You are now losing your food stamps and have less money to work with.) I had a lot of nice things (I'm so lucky to have had good stuff to start with. I'm so lucky I came from a good family). I had to sell a lot of them at ridiculous prices, but at least I had them to sell. I was even able to start a business boarding dogs, and we did okay for awhile there too. But the thing about limited resources that is the most terrifying is the inability to absorb the impact of other peoples' decisions. You are quite literally at the mercy of people who care more about the bottom line than they care about you, or more about who knows what. I just know that when my basement flooded (the landlord had removed the pump before I moved in. I couldn't afford one of my own), my landlord got married and moved away, leaving her son in charge. He didn't take care of the basement (as promised), he didn't bring back the pump. When holes rotted through the floor and toxic mold grew in the walls, my daughter and I started getting sick (just get a spray bottle with bleachwater) and finally the place was condemned. It's what you can expect when the rent is "affordable", unfortunately. We couldn't find another place.

My parents rallied, my boyfriend at the time and his mom did too (Not my boyfriend anymore, but I still love them both). The plan was a house for my daughter and I, and an expanded business plan. I had this. I had people. We were going to be okay. We had it all worked out. And then we didn't. At the last minute, everything fell apart (My own family doesn't believe in me. I must be a terrible person). We scrambled to find something, ANYTHING. But rents are high and sometimes on purpose. Gotta keep the riff raff out, ya know. We lost our home and my business in one fell swoop.

There's something about packing your things when you know everything is going into storage (I can't believe this is happening). There's a disbelief (This can't be real) that goes with it until those final moments (at least my dogs are okay in my friend's kennel). It feels like a train is coming, and you're tied to the tracks. It feels like like screaming for help in a dream where nobody can hear you. And worse, your child's fate is inextricably tied to yours. It's what you think of in that moment when you load up the last of your things on the truck (I'm so lucky to have help moving my stuff), the moments when you are putting everything you own (at least I have stuff and a place to keep it) into a storage locker; your bed, your child's bed, your books and your child's toys. Then that slam of the door sliding shut on your whole world, and the click of the lock.  But the worst moment is that one when you get in your car (at least I have a car) and your child looks at you, and all you can think is "What do we do now?" (Oh God, don't cry. If ever you needed to hold it together it's now. Do it. Be strong. You failed. You failed. You're a failure. You failed your child, so you better HOLD IT TOGETHER YOU LOSER.) It's weird that life just keeps going. I'd bring my daughter to school, fortunate that she had that stability (Thank you, B&T), then go to the kennel to take care of the dogs (I'm so lucky to have a safe place for them), and search day after day for a place to call home. I would go pick up my daughter after school (Act normal. Keep it together. Nobody wants to hear about your embarrassing problems. Failure Failure Failure. Don't forget to smile. All these people get to go home and have dinner. They get to relax and go to bed. I wonder if they know how awesome that is.)

A lot of people have a lot of misunderstandings about poverty and homelessness. There's so much propaganda floating around out there that's very enticing. If you believe the poor are okay, you don't have to do anything. If you think the safety net works, YOU are off the hook.  If you believe that the poor and homeless did it to themselves, it allows you the triple advantage of 1) getting to pass judgement 2) getting to feel 'better than' and 3) you have the opportunity to feel good about turning your back on other human beings. I think very few people would knowingly do that, but the misinformation that's spread around has made poor-bashing acceptable and normal. It's disgusting. If you seriously believe that there is any advantage to being poor, I strongly encourage you to be in touch with local organizations who deal with poverty issues. Or, you know, talk to poor people. Perhaps even more important, set aside your personal bias and LISTEN.

Having said that, some of the LEAST understanding people I have ever met are social workers. Some are amazing, some just want to get through the day, but there are a surprising number of them who just want to talk down to you, talk at you, tell you how to live your life and talk to you about choices. They have the right intentions, but they are coming from their own place and not that of the client. They can't relate at all but they think they understand perfectly. It's a very dangerous combination, and likely the source of the perpetuation of misinformation so prevalent in the media today. They dispense a lot of advice that folks don't want or need and really can't take. To be clear, the REAL choices are: Food or rent, food  or gas, food or electricity, food or cleaning supplies, and when it gets toward the end of the month, food for me OR for my child (obviously a no-brainer). If I had a nickel for every person who wanted to talk at me about my "budgeting issues" or similar subjects (you just have to learn to be POSITIVE!), I would have had no more financial problems. My biggest budgeting issues were that I didn't have enough money, and lacked a magic wand.

So what DO the poor need? The short answer is more money. It takes a shocking amount of time and energy to wake up every day wondering how to feed you family, and to traipse about (if , in fact you are fortunate enough to have the ability to traipse), all over town to access random services, hoping to piece together enough money to keep the light on. It's energy that would be much better spent elsewhere. No matter what Fox "News" and their ilk say, nobody wants to be poor, poverty isn't lucrative, there is no advantage and nobody is doing well on subsidies. NOBODY. Pardon my French, but that is bullshit. I tried to come up with a better word, but there isn't one. On the rare occasion that somebody attempts fraud, they are caught and prosecuted. The second thing people need is opportunity. People who have opportunities take them so for granted that they can't even kinda understand that they aren't available to everyone, or conceive of how different life might be without them. It makes a huge difference when mommy and daddy pay for your education and sign off on all the big purchases so that you can build something positive for yourself right from the get go. It changes everything.

The other thing to remember is that homelessness isn't the problem, it's the symptom. If ever there was proof that the poor weren't getting what they need to help themselves and stop being poor, it's the alarming rate of homelessness. Homelessness happens when you have done everything you can do and it doesn't work, and have asked for help that doesn't come. It's a point of utter helplessness and hopelessness. I can't speak for everyone, but for me it was that moment when I realized that everything I believed in was bullshit. It was the moment when I knew to whom I mattered, and to whom I didn't. I realized that God most definitely gives you more than you can handle, and when it happened something broke so profoundly inside me that I've never been the same. Over the years I've worked hard at gluing all the little pieces together, but I don't think I'll ever be the same. I'm seriously agoraphobic. I mean, seriously. The panic attacks are so embarrassing, but it is what it is. I get nosebleeds whenever I get correspondence from my landlord, even though it's always benign. So no, adversity doesn't always make you stronger. Sometimes it fucks you up irrevocably. But I'm working on it. Even so, I can't help but believe it happened for a reason. I have yet to discover what that reason might be, but I'll know it when I see it.

It's over for us now, the 'living it' part. My daughter is an adult and we share household expenses. But every time I hear somebody trash the poor I get angry, because they are trashing me. Every time somebody disrespects and dehumanizes the homeless, they are dehumanizing me, and worse, my daughter. Those families are us, those children are my child. Anybody can end up there. It took me years of scraping and clawing to forgive myself for the sins that I was held accountable for but never actually committed, but I did do that much. I believe in myself, but very few others. My cynicism was well-earned. I wish I smiled more, that I was calmer and less emotional. I'll get there. In the meantime, I will always defend and advocate for those who can't do it for themselves, because I know they can't. I won't judge because nobody can be harder on a person than they are on themselves. But mostly because I understand that sometimes, people don't need a lecture or a pep-talk; what they need is real, tangible help.

Games I Don't Play

Photo: www.facebook.com/kristelsmartsbooks

My daughter wants me to date. Okay, if I'm being perfectly honest, I've even been lectured by people who barely know me about how important it is to "find that person". I get it, I hear it, but I guess I'm not sure how to fulfill that wish for them. I'm happy alone, genuinely happy. I think I used to believe in the importance of that other person too, once upon a time, but years and experiences change a person. Even so, I'd be open to the idea if I could find a human being who was looking for a human being, to relate as human beings. I'm an Aquarius. That doesn't just make me odd, it means that friendship is the most important thing to me. It means if someone can't connect with me on a mental level and be my friend, it just doesn't work. Astrology aside, that really IS the magic formula for me. And brains are HOT. Seriously.

What's the difference between a friend and a boyfriend? Think about that for a minute; think about the difference between how a person would relate to one vs. the other. It would take a man bordering on magical (Yes, magical. That's exactly right.) to get that difference and even more so to find it appealing. I'm not saying friendship as in a platonic sort of friend-zone friendship, I mean a relationship based on two people actually liking each other as equals, respecting each other, on a human level. It doesn't sound like much, maybe, especially to folks who are happily enmeshed, but for me that connection has been as illusive as Bigfoot. And hey, at least Bigfoot leaves footprints and such to allude to his existence.

I'll admit that growing up in rural Vermont is enough to leave anyone jaded in the dating department. It can be a place where scantily-clad women draped over motorcycles (gross) are actually considered an appealing choice. I have actually had someone say to me "You're pretty, you don't need to be smart" and they were sure it was a compliment. I suppose in a land of cave-dwellers it might be, but in the world where I live (which, admittedly, is somewhere between Shangri-La and Middle Earth most days) it is disrespectful, marginalizing and attempts to diminish the light that dwells within us all regardless of gender. And therein lies the other half of the problem: The way I want to be seen also tends to be the same filter I look through when I see others. I don't even want to begin to tell you how much "bad" has resulted from that situation. It's one thing to strive to always see people as their best incarnation of self, quite another to do so with reckless and hopeful abandon, and a lack of common sense. Yeah, I'm over that. I take full responsibility for my part in the resultant issues there, but will admit to a learned-reluctance to engage because of it. And I haven't seen the need. I also have zero-tolerance far all things patriarchal and misogynistic. And why wouldn't I? I have had to do EVERYTHING alone, and now I'm going to let someone step in and direct how I live my life why? Some guys really frown on that, but they aren't the ones who are for me, anyway. So now we have what? A magical and very secure guy? Hmm.

I'm on a trajectory. I have this very clear picture of where I want to go and I'm working very hard to get there. Do I even have the energy to date anyone? I don't know. The right person could be worth the distraction. But I don't have the energy for games, or for the nonsense I've already dealt with. I'm not going to fight with someone to be who I am, and I'm not going to apologize either. The right person would understand that being an important part of my world does not necessitate monopolizing my time and attention. He would also know that I like shiny things, but that a really neat rock collected from a river just for me would mean more to me than something polished and expensive. That I prefer the joyful, upturned faces of sturdy sunflowers to the ephemeral and exotic beauty of orchids. My favorite sounds are of wind through the trees, the rolling of a river and the steady sound of hoofbeats on a dirt road. The moon and the stars are more beautiful than any city skyline; and silence, long and comfortable, can be the most meaningful form of communication.

I know exactly what you're thinking: I should probably just look for Bigfoot. Hey, you never know. Bigfoot might actually find me :-)

The New Normal

Photo: weknowmemes.com

Let me tell you a story. It's sort of what I do. I don't make any promises about it's entertainment value, but here goes nothing just the same. Okay, I'm going to make a confession: It's 11:30 AM, and I'm a little (just a little), um, tipsy. I don't drink. Like, ever. I get high on life and the weird sort of awesome of other people and I don't want to miss a single second of any of that. Ergo, I stick to non-alcoholic beverages. But this morning, at a most crucial, time sensitive moment, my printer died. Okay, lame as AM drinking excuses go, but for today it will suffice. In the big scheme of things it's not such a big deal. Yes, there is a bunch of time-sensitive stuff that needs tending to fairly immediately, but what they hell. As my Mom would point out, as long as I can still move my arms and legs all is right and good with the world. I'm doing that right now just to prove to myself that I can and it is, indeed, the sh**. Who needs a printer when you can just get down with your bad self, right?

Oh, but I promised a story. Once upon a time there was a writer who very badly wanted to make her living doing what she loved to do. It seemed quite far fetched; very few are fortunate to be in such a position. But wait...is that really true? I mean, if you WANT to do something badly enough, can't you just DO it? Are we not only limited by our imagination and the strength of our will? Or is that Green Lantern? I forget. Either way, it works for us mere mortals as well. Or so it would seem. So once upon a time I was stressing about car repairs, a roof, food. Yes, boys and girls, sometimes even food was a scarcity in a past so recent I prefer not to think of it. And while I'm not exactly out of the woods yet, I can feel the tenacious tendrils of scarcity losing their grip and getting ready to fall away while I keep my eyes trained steadily (albeit a bit blurrily, currently) forward in my characteristically stubborn way.

So, YES my printer failed me at a crucial moment. YES I need it for some TV related stuff. The point is I NEED IT FOR TV RELATED STUFF. It is a new problem, and one that is indicative of my impending freedom, tangible proof of accomplishment. Even better, I am getting paid to do what I love. Holy Sh**, when did that happen?!

So go ahead Mr. Printer. Do your temperamental thang. You can't throw a damned thing at me that I haven't already survived, for you are merely a tool. Yes, I called you a TOOL. Don't worry, I still love you. I'm just annoyed. And I plan on having a spectacular day just the same!

FIN

Christmas List (post 100!)

Norman Rockwell

So, this isn't going to be my best Christmas ever. I miss my family, we just got hit with an ice storm, my daughter and I have the flu and my ex is trying to shoe-horn a last-minute person into our "family dinner" at Kotos. I have usually spent hours making gifts and ornaments to send to family members, and am enjoying the knowledge that they are done and sent by now, but not this year. Have I mentioned we've had the flu? Nothing is done. I just spent the last 20 minutes or so walking/sliding/falling down the same 20 feet of sidewalk with an under-exercised (98 pound!) dog trying get him to "do his business" before I coughed both my lungs free from my chest, ejecting them forcefully onto the icy sidewalk. So no, not the best Christmas ever.

But so what? Christmas isn't our only chance to be happy, to get it right. Through this understanding, I've reached a level of acceptance and even the ability to laugh at what a monumental mess things are this year. It has freed me from any and all expectations, and I'm going to call it "The Blessing of Freedom from Expectations" and turn it into a good thing instead of the real f***arow that it has actually become. Come on guys, this couldn't have gone more pear-shaped if I had planned it! It really IS kinda funny.

How would things be if my Christmas wishes were granted?

First of all, my parents would be here. I would have a house to host the festivities and I would have spent the last few days enjoying their company, making cookies, drinking hot chocolate and the like. I think it goes without saying that my daughter and I wouldn't have the flu. Our dogs would take themselves out into their yard, where they could get their frolic on without taking down any people. My gifts would all be sent, and I would be really excited to hear about what folks thought of them. My tree would be surrounded by gifts for the loved ones enjoying Christmas at home.

Dinner would be a fun meal cooked with love by those of us who were sitting down to enjoy it. My ex would still be there, but would have some social perceptiveness. Christmas would be a day to look forward to, not a day to grin and bear it and remember my manners (my new mantra; be polite, remember your manners).

Gifts for me would be simple: a gift card to my favorite clothing store or book store. A Vermont Teddy Bear (silly, REALLY silly, but I've always wanted one. This one, actually, with honey colored fur and blue jammies). A pair of LL Bean Wicked Good slippers. And you know, a pony. Some things never change :-)

But there are days that come after Christmas too, and in fact, endless possibilities to make good things happen all year round. The flu is going away, and the ice storm is behind us already. There's a start. I can do this. WE can do this. Please refer to my previous post about gratitude, because it's still true.

I hope everyone has a blessed and wonderful holiday, and that at least one wish comes true for you this season!

Grateful

Photo: en.wikipedia.org

Yes, I know the photo is of "grapefruit" and has nothing whatsoever to do with being "grateful", but it's a device. "Grateful" is one of those words I habitually misspell (I want it to be "greatful", which is like "grateful", but with aspirations) and the word "grapefruit" is how I remember to spell it correctly. Just work with me here. Trust me, it's a good device, and furthermore I couldn't find a single photo of "grateful". But I digress...

As always this time of year, I'm struggling to maintain a cheerful demeanor.  I love the season, but it's incredibly painful too. Last year was okay because our mom visited from Florida between Thanksgiving and Christmas and it really took the sting out of it, but it's back to the crushing longing for home and family this year. Oh, I have a place to live. But a place to live and home are two very different things. If you don't know the difference, you can consider yourself a very lucky individual. I haven't been "home" for a very, very long time. No visit from the parental units this year, so it's back to Koto's for a Japanese Christmas for us.

Okay, well, this can go one of two ways: I can succumb and just melt into a pile of gelatinous goo until after the new year (tempting!), or I can take a long hard look at all of the things the past year has given me, the pretty terrific people in my life, and the things I have to look forward to, none of which are dependent on having a magical holiday. I think I'll take what's behind door #2.

I've had a pretty incredible year. I had my book published, at long last. The way it happened was pretty cool too; the right opportunity came up at exactly the moment I was ready to go. How often does that happen? And the feedback has been pretty awesome! I think most writers have moments of doubt. I know I had more than a few days of thinking that everything I wrote that day was useless garbage. Most often, the next day it all seemed okay, but in the moment I was convinced that every word sucked. The reviews have been pretty great too. So far, so good, and if I get a bad review I can handle it because of all the great ones I have to fall back on. I even had my picture in the local paper, which was a pretty neat experience too :-)

The thing I am most grateful for though (and considering what an anti-social being I am it may come as a shock) is all the people who have supported me and buoyed me to where I am now. I have a long way to go yet, and it's my own initiative that I need to rely on for that, but I am overwhelmed by how many people supported me through this journey thus far: friends, family (mostly) and even complete strangers have been there, promoting, encouraging, buying my book, liking my fan page, and generally just being THERE. It's meant the world to me, and I'm still in awe. I've become very used to "Little Red Hen-ing" it (please note there is no political nonsense implied by this statement) for the most part and with rare exception, so the overwhelming support and positive feedback has been...just wow.

THAT will be my focus. Yup, I'm still going to feel sad. But I'm so grateful to have had (and to have) people in my life who were/are so amazing that it hurts this badly to miss them. I am grateful to have hope for the future, to know what "home" really means, and know that someday in the not-too-distant future I will finally be able to put down roots again and feel like I'm home. It's what I'm working my derriere off for!

So THANK YOU, dear folks, for helping this lumpy, middle-aged Weeble along her path. My gratitude is sincerely eternal:-)

On that mushy note, I leave you with a mushy video (I've become a video embedding MACHINE). It's a song that makes me cry because it reminds me so much of my dear grandfather and his wonderful tenor voice, but it's a good memory, and it means Christmas to me:

When Things Go to Hell

A beautiful sunrise for you all:-)

What a week, eh? As I write this, the police have already killed one of the suspects in the Boston Marathon bombing and are in hot pursuit of the other. And it's not the only tragedy of the week. This post is not about tragedy though, so I'm not dwelling there or getting into all the reasons why we should be fearful or sad. I think human beings are far too aware of that already. I'm more interested in how we can react positively to these tragic situations. In that light, I would first like to offer my love and condolences to all those lost and injured, and their loved ones. While it's always a good idea to forget our sorrow, people should never be forgotten.

I have been largely impressed by the role of social media this week, and incredibly impressed by my friends. Social media has helped to keep people in touch with each other, and positive, loving posts have been passed around relentlessly; far more than fearful and ugly ones. One of my favorites has been a quote by Fred Rogers: “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping." The quote became so popular that it made the news.

And people DID look for the helpers, and BECAME the helpers in droves. Humanity at it's worst was offset completely by an overwhelming and heartwarming show of humanity at it's most-loving best. And the media actually reported the positive! I LOVE that when a small minority tries to impose their ugliness on the world, the world responds with ever-increasing kindness and love. That's what I will take away from everything that happened this week. I will use these tragic events to strengthen my faith in humanity and to increase my love of same. Imagine how powerful that sentiment can be as it ripples out and touches us all, encouraging everyone to do the same. It seems to be where most of us are at, anyway. I understand that it's more difficult for some.

I think of it like panning for gold. If you simply eliminate the focus on things that cause pain and heartbreak, you will be left with everything good. That's what you keep and take with you. The more you practice "panning", the more adept you become at sifting through and eliminating the scurf. I will admit that at times, it really IS work, but it's worth it.

So today I offer you my faith and love, and I promise to put that energy forward into the world on behalf of those who have suffered. In that spirit I have found a photo a beautiful sunrise for you all, to remind you that no matter how bad the storm, the sun always rises again to bring us light, life and hope:-)

Full Moon

I'm no astrologer, but long-time interest in astrology has given me enough insight to know that the full moon symbolizes endings and completion. I'm not sure that that notion has ever been more true than now. The last few weeks have kicked some a** (sometimes via my loved ones) in terms of endings and good-byes, life-altering changes, burned bridges and some not-so-happy surprises. And it isn't the first time.

I have noticed over time that, as much as I resist change fervently, it occurs without warning and without the courtesy of awaiting input from me. That's life. Without change there could be no improvement, no forward movement. Without endings, no magical beginnings could ever occur. It would all be the same, all the time. Comforting, maybe. Stimulating, invigorating, the stuff of being alive? Not so much. I love that my age has provided me with at least some ability to be philosophical.

The pain of loss evaporates over time. I have learned that much. As much as we try to cling to the threads of memory, most of the details dissipate like smoke over time. At first we panic as we cling to them, but it's a natural process. We HAVE to let go or we don't heal. The more we do it, the better we get at it. It's how we eventually can look back and smile when we remember those we've lost. Even when those losses are by choice and not forced by death we can sometimes have those moments of happy memory.

Mourning is easy. It's not something that we think about and must orchestrate. It takes us over and takes us down. All we have to do is succumb to it until it allows us to surface once again for air. That's when the real work begins. The work of rebuilding the life destroyed in the wake of loss. Like any journey, it begins with one step, and then another. Sometimes those first steps are shaky and uncertain, but become more and more deliberate as the road ahead opens up before you. This is the important part. Deciding who you want to be and learning how to be in the world without your loved one.

And you really DO get to decide. With every end, a new beginning. With winter's passing comes the spring. How timely to think of it that way. As painful as things can be, eventually the sun comes out again and it can feel like seeing it for the very first time. It will warm your face and make you smile and remind you how beautiful life is, right now, and how much is out there waiting for you. You can do this. You've done it before and it just made you stronger and smarter. All will be well again, I promise.

For my loved ones who have suffered so much the last few weeks...

Tradition

The word "tradition" has been thrown around quite a bit lately, and it's a word I both adore and despise. I think tradition can be wonderful and warm; it can provide security within its familiar parameters. I love family traditions, especially those that center around holidays, and I'm completely and endlessly fascinated by the rich and myriad traditions around carriage driving and fox hunting. But tradition can be stifling. Some horrible things have been perpetrated under the guise of tradition. Like anything else, there is usually something very negative to be found in fervency.

Where people are concerned, traditions need to remain flexible. Humanity is fluid; our ideas and ideals grow and change as our understanding of the world and our place in it evolve. Pathological adherence to tradition can interfere with natural progression if it's allowed to. Inflexibility is often cast aside, shed like tight and dessicated old skin, left by the wayside to go extinct like the dinosaurs: Evolve, be flexible or become obsolete. It's not a new concept. It's an idea that exists in history, religion, nature. Yet it's so hard for human beings to grasp. We fumble about the dark, mistaking our intelligence for superiority and worse; we define our personal value by our ability (or the ability of others) to acquire stuff. And then we fight about it. We destroy and kill each other over it. We make stuff and currency more valuable than people. I don't want to fight, but I don't want to understand, either. I wonder what operates under and within a society that puts money before people, self before others. I wonder but I don't really want to know. No religion in politics, I agree with that. But...

I believe in the spirit of humanity. I believe the spirit within me gives me structure, morality, an innate sense of right and wrong. To be a person of morality means it carries forward into all things. To be a bastard in business, the bastard must exist. There is no excuse for treating people badly. None. I don't believe selfishness is worthy of emulation. It's not an example to follow, or something to be proud of. I don't believe we secure our rights by denying the rights of others. I don't believe in denying the rights of others in order to adhere to outdated and outmoded traditions. I don't believe in peace through intimidation. Maybe I'm the dinosaur. But I'm not alone.

Call me what you like. Call me irresponsible, lazy, pointless; tell me I don't matter and that it's okay if I starve and my children starve and my parents starve. Perpetuate the myth, it doesn't matter, because it IS a myth. I'm not alone. I'm not the only one who's been cast aside, lied about, vilified, scape-goated, disenfranchised, dismissed, alienated, insulted...underestimated. And we know the lie for what it is.

Good people live in this world. There is hope for humanity if we reach out in united and honorable purpose, with both ourselves and each other in mind. Or we could keep doing what we're doing; wasting our time, energy and resources to useless purpose, snapping at each other over ideology and ultimately, irrelevance. But I have to wonder; how long will we glorify acquisition above all? Selfishness as a worthy trait? How long will we pride ourselves on our propensity for violence? It doesn't matter. It's not for me.

I pray for this world and this humanity that I love.

Goals and inspiration

I play this game with myself sometimes: I'll lay in bed for a few minutes every morning (or for as long as Murphy allows) and pretend I'm somewhere else. I'll pretend that I'm in a bedroom in my very own house, and that I have to get up to feed the horses. I pretend that I can just let Murphy out the door to follow me to the barn and that he can sniff and roll and cavort as he chooses, without fear that he will be accosted by someone else's dog. I pretend that I am living the life I want and deserve and have dreamed about since I was almost in diapers. And then I am poked relentlessly by an enthusiastic, wet snoot attached to a wiggling body until I open my eyes and get out of bed.

It's tough to be discouraged when the first thing I see in the morning is a happy Dober-face, but even then when I open my eyes and find that I'm in exactly the same place as yesterday, the day before, and the day before that...well, it does happen. While I understand that I am where I need to be, I'm nowhere near where I want to be. On a logical level, I know I have worked very hard to move forward and continue to do so, but without seeing some kind of tangible proof of progress, it gets hard to maintain any enthusiasm. I am okay, I am grateful for all that I am, all that I've learned and all that I have. Even more so, I am grateful for the people I have in my life, the people I have had in my life and the abilities I've been given to utilize as I see fit. I realize that on many levels, there are folks that would give anything even to be where I am. I know how fortunate I've been. But that's not the point. This isn't my life. This is not the life I was meant for by any stretch of the imagination, and my heart so longs to reclaim the parts of me that, for sanity's sake, have had to remain dormant and waiting for opportunity. Some days it feels like it's killing me.

And that's what it's about sometimes, isn't it? Opportunity. A single word that can mean the difference between success or failure. I know it's important from my own experience, and more recently from watching my daughter work her butt off, and still never be able to achieve what the others did because her mom couldn't afford the same opportunities as the other parents. Money can't by talent, but you can have all the talent in the world and get nowhere if you don't have opportunity. It was more difficult to watch than to experience personally. And it drives me.

When I get discouraged, I find that it helps to read the blogs of folks who I admire. We're all in different places in our evolution, we all eventually overcome our difficulties. I am encouraged when I see another person achieve a goal, or when I find humor in another's perspective. It gives me hope when I read about hope, when I can see what human beings are capable of overcoming and achieving. I am discouraged, but I'm not alone. In my real world and in the places I frequent in cyber-space, there are amazing folks cheering me on both directly and unintentionally. Right now especially, I need to remember that those resources are always there, and to immerse myself in all the "positive" that I can. Maybe then, and with a dose of sheer tenacity, I will open my eyes and find that I have achieved my goals, and we are living our lives at last.

There used to be this thing called subtlety...

Once upon a time, in a land long ago, there was an honorable thing called "manners". Children were raised to say "please" and "thank you", to give the best seats to the adults and to have self control. Adults felt no compelling need to let every word they think just fall from their mouths, they knew how to speak politely to each other even in disagreement. A handshake was as good as a contract. It was such a lovely place, where people had class and respect for each other. And lo, they even had respect for themselves! What a world it was, and what a life. And what a shock to be tossed headlong into this one.

I walk uncomfortably in a graceless world, hearing and seeing ignorant and unapologeticly rude political commentary. Children are actively and openly disrespectful. Shows like "Jersey Shore", that showcase and promote the most vapid, shallow and tactless of human behavior, are the popular programs of the day. Self-centeredness is misconstrued as good boundaries, and self-esteem is related only to shallow appearances and pursuits. Where is honor and depth?

I see goodness sometimes, so I know it exists. It exists in more places than it would initially appear. Sometimes it's hard to find because it lacks the garishness and drama of common, attention-seeking behavior. It is calm, subtle, and persistent. It persists in spite of obnoxious narcissism. It persists in spite of  a frequent and tenacious need to shock and disgust with a complete lack of couth or accuracy. It persists in action and effort, contrary to the verbal explosion of never-ending noise that surrounds it. I look for good everywhere, and get better and better at spotting it.

I know good people, and I know great people. The great are self-contained, confident. They don't need to constantly shout about themselves and their opinions in all possible venues. They know how to use language graciously. Clearly, I am not great, but I am blessed to know great people. They don't talk but they act. They don't go on about their opinions, but implement changes that they know are right. They have enough respect for themselves that they respect other people. Their respect of others means that they speak clearly but diplomatically in all venues. A great person knows how to make a point without put-downs or sarcasm; they have respect and reason on their side and that's enough. It's good to remember.

I can't go back to a previous time or place. What I can do, though, is bring the good things forward with me. It means being mindful and making an effort to avoid getting caught by some of the more ridiculous scenarios that currently exist. It means remembering to be who i am in spite of who I'm dealing with. No easy task, but perhaps worth the effort.

Conversations With Dog

   I've often wondered what my dog and I would say to each other if he could actually speak. It occurred to me almost immediately that he does speak, as long as I'm willing to listen. I spent some time on translation, and did my best not to anthropomorphize Murphy's end of the conversation. That's tough, isn't it? To not make everything in our own image? It's fortunate that we don't succeed. It's a work in progress for me and probably will remain so, but at least I try. Ah, to be a flawed human...

   Our last conversation at the park might have gone something like this:

Murph: I would like to go over here...I smell a squirrel!

Me: That's fine buddy, this is your time. Sniff away...

Murph: Please throw the toy...I will do anything just to ruuuun!

Me: Yes of course I will. I love to see you leap up to grab your Frisbee or to chase your bouncy ball. Your  exuberance is contagious and it makes me laugh. Go get it!

I throw the toy until it feels like my arm might fall off. I watch Murphy leap and spin and take off running like his little stub is on fire. All the while I can feel the happiness coming off him in waves, and can almost feel the tension leaving his muscles with each fluid and powerful stride. I launch him like a rocket with each throw; he dutifully returns to my side with his toy every time. It's a game we know well and that both of us enjoy.

Murph: I'm worn out now, but want to keep chasing. THROW IT!!

Me: Enough running buddy, but lets walk for awhile so you can cool down. Why don't you and your nose go exploring?

Murph: YES!

Murphy revels in the relative freedom of his long line. After years of work and the acquisition of impeccable off-leash skills, the line is merely a formality. Even so, it keeps him safe and makes me feel better too. I connect it to a harness so there's no tension on his neck, and Murphy feels 'free'. He sniffs at all the delicious smells; dogs and squirrels and things I can only imagine with my limited senses. I wonder what he thinks.

Murph: I see a dog...It's coming right at me. What do I do what do I do what do I do...oh yeah, I run to you. It'll be okay, I run to you and you feed me and smile and tell me I'm awesome. I can do this I can do this Oh no it's coming closer I can do this I don't know if I can do this....

Me: Good job buddy. You are awesome. Sit behind me. I've got this.

Me to interloper dog while gesturing emphatically: NO!!! Get lost!
Me to dog's owner: CALL YOUR DOG!!!
Murph: Whine!

The dog finally leaves and we continue to walk. Murphy slowly returns to his 'sniffun', but continues to spare a nervous glance over his shoulder in the direction the other dog came from. Eventually he is calm and relaxed again. It seems like a lot to worry about, to have to be constantly watchful so that my dog can feel safe. To be so unpopular with the 'friendly' dog crowd. Maybe it would be so much easier to have a dog without 'issues'. Maybe. But this is only one side of the story.

Another day may look something like this:

Me: I don't feel like going. I don't think I can handle it today.

Murph: Yeah! We're getting ready to go somewhere!. It doesn't matter where, car trips are awesome! Hurry hurry, get ready lets go!

Me: Okay buddy, if you say so. I can do this. Right? I can do this...

We get in the car. Murphy is impeccably well-mannered as always. He looks out the window but doesn't stick his head out. He never makes a sound no matter what we pass. He calmly observes the landscape as it slides by. We arrive at our destination, and Murphy stands up.

Me: I don't know if I can do this today.

Murph: Oh goody! A visit to the doctor! I get treats in there sometimes. Lets go!

Me: Okay...

Murphy waits calmly while I put on his leash, then unceremoniously jumps from the car. He looks at me with soft eyes and wags his stub with enthusiasm.

Me: I don't know if I can do this. I don't know. I don't know if I can handle this today.

Murph: Hang on to me. I've got this...

And he always does. 

Murphy is exceptionally good at his job. Maybe it would be easier for him to have a person without "issues", but he doesn't seem to mind. This is the other side of the story. He loves and gives without resentment or complaint. He speaks with his eyes and with the honesty of his tireless enthusiasm. I have no right and no room to complain. We humans could learn a lot from conversations with dogs.

Shillelagh of Doom

   In my last post, I invited you to fantasize with me. I introduced 'Karma Girl' and her Shillelagh of Doom; a new superhero of the sidewalk. I don't know if you actually did any fantasizing about the exciting possibilities for Karma Girl, but I know I sure did. In fact, since I've written that post I've had a new experience that introduced me to yet another possible application for Karma Girl. Considering my (possibly unhealthy) obsession with this issue, I'm surprised that I didn't think of it sooner: Revenge on the irresponsible dog-walker. I don't mean Karma Girl should actually go around thunking people on the head (not as a rule, anyway, but let's leave the possibility open just in case), but in my fantasy world she could at least make a lasting impression.  Or maybe, if I'm feeling especially charitable, she could at least offer them an education they can't refuse. Maybe the Shillelagh of Doom has special powers to combat the evils of willful ignorance, or something.

  Like most ideas, this one came to me while I was out walking. It was sort of a strange situation because I didn't have my dog with me. That is almost unheard of, but I wasn't in a place amenable to his well-being. Let me clarify: I was walking on my old favorite walking route. I haven't been there in awhile, because there are far too many people ignoring the leash laws or walking their dogs on Flexis. It is the path where Murphy was attacked, as a matter of fact. But it's really the only convenient place to walk, and I really need to walk. My logic flows like this: I need exercise, I want a treadmill. I can't afford a treadmill. What can I do then? (it's always the follow-up question to an "I can't" response). I can walk outside on the path. But Murphy can't handle the path yet. So I walk by myself. Or something like that. SO I walk the path trying to be all Zen and peaceful, and trying not to be too aware of not having my dog with me. I need my dog, and I need to walk. It's too bad that I can't do both simultaneously, isn't it? Instead, I go for a walk and then take my dog to the park for his exercise. It shouldn't have to be that way, but it is. Enter: Karma Girl. See how this works?

  So I was out being Zen by myself when I was accosted by a large group of children accompanied by two adults. I'm thinking 'daycare'. I clearly and obviously tried to avoid the onslaught, but the adults seemed entertained by my annoyance and obvious lack of desire to interact. Consequently, every time I moved away they would all follow. I finally just started running for all I was worth (it must have looked really funny. I'm Weeble-shaped, but I can move;-) until I couldn't hear them anymore. I heard them picking up the pace behind me as well, but fortunately I'm (marginally) faster than a group of preschoolers so I eventually got away. If I had had Murphy with me he would have handled it kindly enough, but it would have really irritated and upset him. And that was only the beginning.

  I pulled off the main path into a more wooded area. There is still a path here and it's frequented by joggers. It also moves along the edge of a golf course so it's not really remote, but not next to the road, either. It seemed nice and quiet, anyway. Then I encountered a woman with two large, off-leash dogs wearing harnesses. When she saw me coming she at least had the good sense to leash the beasts, but alas...the leashes were Flexis. A Flexi lead on a harness for a large, active dog in a public place is just ridiculous. She had TWO. As I passed by her, BOTH of her dogs darted out to the end of the leash and jumped on me (!?). When I expressed annoyance, the woman said in her best passive-aggressive voice "it's okay babies, not everyone wants to pet a friendly dog". I was seriously non-verbal at that moment. Seriously. In my head it looked just like this: (!?) Not very imaginative perhaps, but you get the point. I took a moment to fantasize: Karma Girl arrives out of nowhere and jumps between the dogs and the pedestrian, saving the latter from a pantleg full of muddy pawprints. She then wields the Shillelagh threateningly while snapping a new, six-foot lead on the collar of each dog. She then removes the Flexis and grinds them into dust with her weapon while lecturing the dog-owner about responsible dog-ownership. At that point in my mind, a random auditorium of people stands and cheers as a newly-converted, responsible dog owner comes into being, and Karma Girl has saved the day yet again.

I think too many thoughts.

Sidewalk Superhero

   Sometimes I wish I was a superhero. Not the real kind of course, with all the overwhelming sense of responsibility and angst, but the intermittent kind that's oddly specific and fits in easily with my schedule. I could come over all stealthy and incognito, and put a hurt on the rude, the inconsiderate, and maybe those with consistently bad grammar. You know what I mean; I could figuratively 'take a chunk' out of those who irritate me. Or hey, those who irritate you! I suppose that's really what the whole 'superhero' gig is about; assisting the underdog. I don't generally consider myself an underdog, but every once in awhile something happens that leaves me feeling...ineffective. Yesterday was one of those days when I felt simultaneously sorry and grateful that I don't walk with a baseball bat. Sorry, because I had no defense. Grateful because I would have used it and bought myself a world of problems. But if I was a superhero....

   Maybe if I was a superhero I could have legally and effectively wielded my 'Shillelagh of Doom' and it would have just been like, part of my superhero provisions. Totally acceptable. Let me explain: Yesterday I was walking my dog at my usual time down my usual sidewalk. Suddenly, I felt something hit the back of my leg and my right butt-cheek, and just like that I found myself down on the ground wondering what the hell happened. Poor Murphy, unaccustomed to seeing me on the ground, just jumped around and looked at me. I could almost hear him thinking anxiously "...but I never learned about what to do when this happens..." I looked up and saw the a**hole who just hit me with his bike continuing on down the sidewalk like he was the only one who mattered or existed. Emphasis here on sideWALK. I live in a very bike-friendly community, so a bike-lane was provided about ten feet to my left. Not only provided, but clearly marked with big pictures of bicycles and signs with arrows. You would have to be blind or very, very stupid to miss the bike lanes. Perhaps folks in either of those categories should avoid cycling, anyway. I suspect they do. So this means that A**hole-on-a-bike is just a jerk, and therefor has no excuse. Who better to suffer the wrath of my Shillelagh of Doom? I'm going to pause a moment here to fantasize about it...

   I could have said something clever, I suppose. Maybe I could have even played THE card. I could have said something like "Hey, a**hole, way to go! You just ran down a disabled woman and her service dog!" Or anything really. I think all I managed was "Hey!" and I can't even take credit for it. It was kind of surprised out of me. I've learned (sadly enough) that I don't do my bestest, most cleverest thinking just after being knocked off my feet. I shouldn't know that perhaps, but there it is. Even so, I would think that anyone with half a brain or who isn't a psychopath should have felt something about running down a pedestrian. Not this most special of cyclists. He just went on his way unencumbered and unconcerned by such minor things as other people. The saddest part? This is the second time I've been knocked over by a cyclist coming silently up behind me. On the sideWALK.

   And this is where the superhero fantasy comes into play. What if there was a real and immediate consequence for this behavior? And I don't just mean the crappy behavior affecting me; I have no doubt that the guys that ran me down have done it before. I don't want to wait for Karma to fix it, I want to BE Karma. Enter: Karma Girl (insert dramatic, musical fanfare here). The scariest part wouldn't be the masked, Weeble-shaped woman in brightly-colored Spandex (perhaps something in a lovely green? It would go so well with my coloring...) coming out of nowhere either, it would be the gleeful giggle just before the mighty thunk that finds the unwitting a**hole on the same ground he has knocked other people into. And not just once. EVERY time, there Karma Girl would be to dole out justice with her world-famous Shillelagh of Doom. She will be the superhero of the sidewalk, protecting pedestrians everywhere from rude cyclists and traffic that won't stop at the crosswalks (okay, that last could be tricky but I'll work it out). Then she slinks off mysteriously, back into the obscurity of her 'real' life as an overweight, middle-aged woman who spends most of her time at her keyboard. Ah...the satisfaction it would bring!