Wondering

Clocking the Calendar

Posted on October 4, 2013 by Kami

It’s Friday! Yay!

Or

Oomph, it’s Monday…

Or

Only 3 more hours…

Or

Forty five minutes more is way too long!

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Is it just me or does time have this fluid quality to it that makes little sense? How does an hour race by, yet another hour drag?

And wasn’t January just last week? But wasn’t January ages ago?

What makes the difference in the perspective at which time appears to move?

Like the tree in the forest falling and making or not making a sound, if no one sees the clock ticking or cares what the calendar says does time still move?

I suppose even ancient civilizations tried to corral time and seasons by charting the sun’s movement across the sky. We too attempt to rein in the days and years with meaningful markers that assign structure to the uncontainable force of time.

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People dream of traveling through time as if it’s a vacation destination or a malleable clay waiting passively for reshaping.

Then those déjà vu moments throw our thinking off kilter, making us wonder if time does bend and flex and fold. I’ve never cared for that sensation. One “time” in particular still sticks with me even after nearly forty years.

I’ve wondered, awkwardly, if I’ve experienced that crucial moment multiple times as a chance to finally get it right. But I don’t believe in stuff like that!

Waiting. Hurrying. Wasting. Losing. Looking back and looking forward. Reminiscing. Regretting. Wanting more. All things we do with time or wish we could do with time.

I think time does the doing and we ride its crest or tumble uncontrollably through its wake or float along in its gentle waves. But we and it are, apparently, always moving.

Or are we?

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Categories: Wondering | Tags: , , , | 2 Comments

Fortunate

Posted on September 15, 2013 by Kami

Fortune cookies play as entertainment in my book. I don’t place much credence in fortune-telling, or in predicting the future, or stuff like that. I do, however, find some interesting tidbits of wisdom or humor in those crunchy pockets of cellophane wrapped take-out.

20130915-095630.jpgTake this one. “Good luck is the result of good planning.”

I plan much and then play things by ear. I’m spontaneous, flexible and easy-going. Planning on my part seems like a way to bring some humor into God’s day. “She thinks she’s going to do what today? Hahahahahaha.” As anyone who knows me will attest, I’m easy and I’ve learned how to fall without getting hurt too badly. I do feel lucky but not in the classic sense.

I’m glad to provide someone with a good laugh on occasion, even if it’s God, or the Fate’s or someone looking on at my attempts at leading a productive and helpful life.

20130915-095659.jpg“Most spend lives reading the menu instead of enjoying the banquet.” I can never decide what to eat when I go out to dinner. I end up getting something familiar then watch whoever I’m with enjoy something new and yummy. Put me in front of a buffet and I’ll have a grand time! Lately life’s banquet has been sumptuous. And if I’m honest, it’s always been a feast of epic proportions, but I haven’t always recognized that.

20130915-095710.jpg“Nature, time and patience are the three great physicians.” I’m not sure I can add any more to this one. Like most doctor’s advice, we don’t want to follow through, we want a pill, a quick fix, an instacure. Let Nature work her miracles on what ails you. She’s a master healer for me. And the twins Time and Patience, they’ll work their own special brand of healing whether you want to wait and see or not.

20130915-095825.jpg“Any troubles you have will pass very shortly.” If by “shortly” they mean eventually, then this one speaks truth. While we’re in the middle of chaos and mayhem and heartache, time seems to stand still. I’ve found it helpful to remember what  the Persian sufi poets have said, “This too shall pass.” I also try to picture myself still dealing with the particular flavor of trouble I’m experiencing, oh say, five years from now, and often picture seems brighter with the trouble in my rear view mirror. This is particularly true of children trouble, oddly enough.

20130915-095648.jpg“You will have a long and wealthy life.” Subjective words like long and wealthy can mislead. Long enough is long. And wealthy in what? Money? Sure that’d be nice. But, I like to think of myself as wealthy in family, rich with experiences, decadent in knowledge, comfortably well-off in friendships, affluent in laughter and prospering with gratitude. What greater wealth could a person hope for?

20130915-095841.jpg“You are strong and brave.” I have this one in my wallet where I can see it daily. Hopefully I’m internalizing the idea as well. It’s something I really need to incorporate. If you can believe that you’re strong and brave, then you can valiantly and gracefully endure any troubles you face.

*A side note here for a select few. If it doesn’t apply to you then skip ahead to the last paragraph, or if you can listen quietly, then go ahead and read anyway.

*I know a few of you think of yourselves as weak and scared. You’re wrong. I’ve seen as life has woven strength into and through you. I’ve watched as you’ve battled frightening odds and climbed treacherous trails. You’re braver than you believe. Say this to yourself today. Say it to yourself every day. “I am strong and brave.  I am strong and brave. I am strong and brave.” Say it until you believe it. Say it for the rest of your life. It’s true. You just need to believe that it is.*

An unopened fortune cookie

My favorite chinese food is crab puffs. There. I’ve admitted it. Followed closely by egg rolls, spring rolls and fried rice. I never have much luck with Kung Pao. I usually end up with one of those red peppers burning off half my tongue before I can swallow the rest of the deliciousness. Not sure why I felt compelled to disclose that. But it’s out there now.

And from what I’ve heard and read, fortune cookies didn’t even originate in China. You can read a bit more about it by clicking here if you feel so inclined. Wherever they came from, they sure make for some great conversation starters and often some good laughs.

Wishing you good fortune and happiness today and everyday.

Categories: Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A Dressing Down in the Dressing Room

Posted on September 9, 2013 by Kami

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I recently found myself in a department store with a small hopeful stack of shirts and sweaters to try on. As I walked toward the dressing room I saw an unusual sight. The top of a man’s head poking above one of the dressing room stalls. Then I noticed a stroller poking out the bottom of the changing stall. “Must be a dad helping his daughter find something to wear,” I thought to myself.

My assumption turned out wrong. It wasn’t his daughter in there with him it was his wife and child.

How did I know this?

She proceeded to make it clear in no uncertain terms. Here is approximately what I unavoidably overheard:

“*#(%*@ size ____. I’ve never been this big in my life. Disgusting!!! How can you even stand to look at me?

You look fine, honey.

I look like a big, fat, stinking pig. Why are you still married to me?

Honestly, you look great to me. Who are you trying to impress anyway?

&)@*!!! *^ I am a fat stinking *&**!!!%@!# [insert most derogatory swear word you can think of] Do you hear me? You should be so disgusted and just leave me because I am a worthless *#&%@*!!

Another woman in another dressing stall piped up. Girlfriend, you’re a size smaller than me. You can’t look all that bad.

You want to come see. It’s disgusting. I’m a fat *#*%@.

At this point her husband tries to shush her as she’s now not only berating herself in the worst possible terms, but also making other people upset as well. They leave the changing room and thankfully I have no face to put to her words.

Here’s the thing.

If someone else called this woman the names she was calling herself, her husband would have certainly punched their lights out, demanded an apology and made sure they couldn’t walk for at least eight weeks. That’s what I hope MSH would do if someone treated me with such disdain and disrespect.

But it was a woman berating herself publicly. Okay, semi-publicly.

Here’s the other thing.

I’ve thought very similar thoughts. I’ve gotten angry at what I’ve seen in the dressing room mirror. I’ve sworn off shopping for clothes at times because I can’t find anything that I feel presentable in. I’ve left stores hating myself for what my body looks and feels like.

And my size, that number we all give so much power to, runs significantly higher than the number that angry woman was so disgusted about.

I admired the intervening voice, the other woman trying to serve as a voice of reason and solidarity. I thought about saying something, but having felt similar feelings, knew it was impossible at that point to comfort, soothe or repair anything.

Maybe she’d not slept enough, maybe her baby in the stroller had kept her awake night lately. Maybe she’s still recovering from growing, laboring and birthing a child. Maybe she missed lunch or was dehydrated. Maybe she was just having a bad day anyway and the dressing room fiasco was the last straw.

Whatever the reason my heart hurt for her. And for thousands of us who let the mirror determine how we feel and what our worth is.

Is there a way to stop looking in the mirror and being so critical? Is there a way to stop caring so much about the book cover and be more concerned with the quality of the words and sentences and story?

I wish there were an easy answer. But I know there isn’t.

Categories: People, self-image, Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

“It Takes a Life to Learn How to Live”

Posted on September 6, 2013 by Kami

Right off the bat let me give credit for my title today to  Jonathan Safran Foer, author of Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. There’s some profound wisdom in that book. Those nine words alone speak volumes of truth.

My friend Kathy asked me a question a couple of months ago that stopped me cold. I couldn’t come up with a good response. A quick answer wasn’t going to do it this time. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

And then today on a prompt from WordPress Daily Post the same basic question in a slightly different form, raised its head and accessed that box I’d stuffed into a distant corner of my head. Here’s the question:

“What’s your biggest regret? How would your life have been different if you’d made another decision?”

Here’s my answer:

I regret wasting so much time thinking I wasn’t good enough. 

The kid in the far reaches of the playground, hovering alone, her back turned to all the fun?  Me. I figured I wasn’t good enough to have friends. I didn’t measure up, I wasn’t included. I became afraid, picked on, ridiculed and invisible.

Detour ahead?Invisible feels worse than picked on. Invisible hurts in a hundred different long-lasting ways.

There were other invisible and picked on and outcast kids. I figured that out in my teen years and that was who I gravitated toward. Sometimes that was a good thing, especially when those kids were the nerds, the smart ones, the bookish know-it-alls. I mirrored the behaviors of the kids I hung out with and those had a  profound influence for good.

Sometimes the invisibles were the parking lot crowd, the skip-class-to-do-anything-else group. But at least I was good enough for them. They accepted me in their own angry, we don’t care about you way. I didn’t like myself even more when I spent time with them, but it was better than being alone, usually.

By time I reached college I had a pseudo-self esteem based mostly on my book smarts. But then I found out everyone else was as smart or smarter than I was and I was an invisible, not good enough person again. Just an ant in a crowded hive of excelling ants.

I wasted tons of years thinking I wasn’t a good enough student, girl, wife, mother, housekeeper, employee, friend, daughter, sister, woman, volunteer or person.

What this wasted thinking did was waste a huge portion of my life. I felt sorry for myself instead of looking outside of myself. I caved inward and saw only what I didn’t have instead of all the phenomenal blessings I did have.

I tucked inside myself like a pair of socks rolled up tight sitting in the back corner of a dark drawer. I didn’t give, I didn’t get. I just existed. What a waste.

Skip a decade or so and leave out the sordid details. Finally, somehow, somewhere what I had, who I was began to morph into an okayness. More than that, I began feel worthwhile. I began to feel like I was enough. Me, where I was and what I was doing was good, worthwhile, worthy, wonderful, and of value.

The Lonely Road

(Photo credit: Storm Crypt)

What a long, uphill road I trudged to get there.

I turn around and look back at the path I took to get to today and part of me wants to crumble in to a heap on the ground and weep. I want to cry for the wasted time, the wasted opportunities, the wasted impact I could have had. I want to feel sorry for myself again. But I won’t.

Nope.

That’s an even bigger waste of time. I’m who I am because of the path I’ve taken to get here, which is good enough for me. That’s all that really matters anyway. What do I think? What others think of me isn’t as important as what I think of me.

My conclusion?

I AM good enough.

No regrets.

Not anymore.

Categories: People, Relationships, Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

Strange Happenings at the Airport and Other Places

Posted on August 30, 2013 by Kami
English:

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I thought I saw myself at the airport the other day.

Really.

I looked across a row of cars and there I stood next to some guy I’d never seen before. The other me was obviously dropping someone off at the airport, just like I was.

I did that double-take thing we all do when something surprises us. Then I looked away, shook my head and focused on MSH who was getting his bag and backpack situated.

But in the back of my head all these neurons are firing off “what the heck!” signals and telling my neck to turn so I could look over at the other me again. But I was resisting the neuron-ics in my brain and instead reached over to give my sweetie a hug that would need to last for a couple of weeks.

As I did he took a step back and sideways to settle the backpack better on his back and caught me off guard. I ended facing him but with my body aimed over at the nice SUV with the better-looking, thinner me and her completely unlike my husband companion.

She was looking back at me.

She was probably thinking, “Ugh, I hope I don’t look like that in ten years.” Or more likely, “Why does that woman keep staring at me and my hot husband?”

Or I imagined it.

Again, I pushed the nagging weirdness vibes out of my head and focused on my own soon departing companion.

We needed a good, solid kiss to get us through the upcoming absence. But he’s doesn’t go in for PDA. (Public Displays of Affection.) So I ended up with a short little meh kiss.

Lame.

I said to him, again ignoring the look-alike who might or might not have been looking my way, “Airports are designed for public displays of affection. Give me a decent kiss that’s gonna last a day or two.”

And he did.

So much so that I forgot about the other me. Mmm.

And then he was gone and so was the phantom, younger me.

Weird.

Doppelganger. That’s the word for what happened.

dop·pel·gäng·er
ˈdäpəlˌgaNGər/
noun
1. an apparition or double of a living person.
Origin: German Doppelgänger, from doppel- double + -gänger goer
I didn’t feel particularly haunted. Just weirded out. A little. Or more than a little, maybe.
I saw myself another time walking down the sidewalk, in Charlotte, North Carolina. Couldn’t get that one out of my head for weeks. Definitely haunting then.
Do you really think there are other me-people out there, living other me-like but different lives? It’s an unsettling thought.
Or maybe it’s just the gene pool. With a few trillion of us on the planet there’s bound to be some duplication occasionally. We can’t all be unique like snowflakes, can we? At least, looks wise.
I have no idea.
Twins

Twins? (Photo credit: aquababe)

I do know that how I think I look and the me I see in a mirror, particularly when I’m not expecting a mirror image, doesn’t add up. I’m surprised to see that’s what I look like. So maybe what I’m seeing when I see another ME is the idealized me, not a copy or double of me.

Did that make any sense?
I’ve been told I have a very, very familiar face. I’m often mistaken for someone’s aunt, grandma, mother, sister, cousin, neighbor, friend or teacher. I’ve lost track of how many times people have asked me if my name is X or Y or Z and I have to convince them that I’ve never been to Norway or Galveston or Upstate New York.
Maybe I’m the doppelgänger! Eesh! There’s a scary thought.
Now I feel haunted.
I wonder what would happen if I tried talking to me if this ever happened again. What would I saw to myself? Would I think I was crazy? Would I/she rush to get a security guard or a police officer? Would they cart me away?
Has this ever happened to you? I’d love to hear about it.
Or am I just strange?
Here’s a Related article that has good possibilities:
Categories: Mental Health, Wondering | Tags: , , , , , | 7 Comments

When Life Gives You Snails, Make Escargot

Posted on July 19, 2013 by Kami

Day seven of Mom’s new adventure. She’s working with several different kinds of rehabilitation therapists about four hours a day and then resting from the hard work of it all. She can walk with assistance. She’s speaking better everyday. Remembering names is sometimes a bit tricky for her. She has some right side vision neglect that they are working on. She still has her sense of humor and expresses gratitude and love to everyone who visits or helps her out in any way.

&&&&&

We lived in the Northwest for a few years once upon a time. Humid and cool, opulent with growing things. We picked wild blackberries, rock climbed, camped, collected shells in the too cold water below the Tacoma Narrows bridge.

Winters were mild, with a couple of rare days of snow. Summers were cool and cloudy.

English: Snail Perfect weather for snails to c...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Perfect conditions for snails.

Yes, snails.

Slimy, slow-moving, bulbous shelled creatures of shadow and night.

They left trails of slime across the screens and sidewalks. And the destruction they left in a flower bed aggravated me to no end.

I tried a few remedies. Beer in a bowl, useless. Slug and snail bait, laughable. Salt, only if applied directly and mercilessly. I finally gave up planting flowers when I realized how addictive they seemed to snails.

I imagined the little slime balls after a night of debauchery in the flower beds, drunk on the nectar of blossoms and stems, fuzzy headed with the liquor of leaves and roots. I chose to stop enabling their habit and consequently stopped planting the hopeful pops of color in my garden.

That would teach them a lesson or two.

But no, it didn’t. They simply slimed the screens and sidewalks with more vehemence in search of their drug of choice. Finding no flowers to wreak havoc on, they slimed my yard more and more.

Why am I bringing this up now? (Besides the fact that the weatherman keeps taunting us with a 20% chance of rain as if a deluge is likely any moment.)

Those slimy snails remind me of negative things; sadness, anger, hopelessness, frustration, meanness, selfishness.

Those emotions seem to leave a wake of slimy yuck behind them. I feel the aftereffects of aggravation long after the source of the emotion dissipates. Sadness lingers. Meanness replays itself over and over in a mental movie of hurt. And selfishness hovers like a skunk that passed by hours ago.

The residual effects of negative emotions stick like slime.

Negativity and pessimism act like addictive substances. One angry thought invites another until a whole room of anger buzzes and jabs. Anything in its wake takes a hit and comes up fighting. Slime trails wander everywhere.

Gross.

The cure?

French cooked snails

French cooked snails (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I don’t know. (We don’t get many snails here in the desert.)

Sunlight, maybe?

Heat, perhaps.

Escargot tastes delectable if done right. Saute’ in butter, add a bit of garlic, a pinch of fresh parsley. Mmmm. Some crusty french bread on the side.

Ah yes, there’s the ticket.

Yummy.

That’s no answer. I realize that.

Or is it? Try this one on for size:

When life gives you snails, make escargot. 

Laughter often sparks more laughter. I’m pretty sure that hope can be contagious. Smiles seem transmittable. Kindness often avalanches into more kindness. Determination to succeed, to overcome, to soldier forward feels healthier and happier.

Can I choose positive emotions over negative? Sure. Is it an easy choice? For some, yes. For others, not necessarily.

In the face of hardship, illness, unkindness, hurt, abuse, loss, suffering or setbacks, choosing the plus side takes audacity. It requires mettle to move forward, keep trying, be kind anyway, turn the other cheek, forgive, smile or to look at the alternate path as a new adventure.

Yes, I know. Not too many people like the idea of eating snails, no matter how wonderful a delicacy. But, you never know until you try if you’re gonna like ’em or not. Or maybe you don’t mind the slime trails and flower bed destruction. More power to you for being so resilient and easy-going.

Either way, life is full of surprises good and bad. How we weather those surprises, as gifts or troubles, makes all the difference.

Categories: Gardening, Nature, Outdoors, Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

If Only I Could Bottle This and Sell It

Posted on July 17, 2013 by Kami

Dictionary (software)

PATIENT

\ˈpā-shənt\

NOUN: an person awaiting or under medical care and treatment

ADJECTIVE 1: bearing pains or trials calmly or without complaint

2: manifesting forbearance under provocation or strain

3: not hasty or impetuous

4: steadfast despite opposition, difficulty, or adversity

Being a patient (noun) often requires having patience (a virtue and an adjective.)

Noun or adjective, no one really wants to go through what it takes to be one or have some.

Receiving treatment for a serious medical condition, especially in a hospital, can’t be defined as fun, enjoyable, or easy. Sometimes there’s relief involved, medications administered that temporarily ease some pain or discomfort. But mostly healing takes time and requires enduring unease and pain. The patient waits.

Then there are those other people in the hospital waiting areas, the non-patients, the family members, the friends, the support team. They hope and wait and pray and wait and ask questions. They wait and wait and wait. Sure, they visit and express love and optimism. They wait and cry. They wait and remember. They wait and think positive. They wait for the day the patient can come home and life can return to normal.

Dolphins at Loro Parque.

My favorite patient is my Mom. She is the ultimate patient person, putting up with all of us kids over the years. You’d have thought once we reached adulthood she could have let out a big sigh and said, “Finally, I’m done with that.” But no, she’s continued to love and support, suffer and endure, give and share, laugh and cry. She’s continued to mother all of us long past the expiration date of our childhood. Surely she has learned, and earned, patience.

Now that she is a patient in a situation that will require lots of patience and endurance and frustration, all of our “training” of her patience will pay off. She’ll be jumping hoops and running circles around all those therapists’ treatments and regimes.

Interesting that the origin of both the noun and verb form of patient is the same.

Old French and Latin and even Greek shed some light, where the root of patient means “to suffer.” Indo-European roots imply that the word patient began in the concept “to endure.”

To suffer, to endure.

Hmmm.

When we want to be more patient, I’m pretty certain we aren’t wanting to suffer or endure. Yet, our ability to endure things that require patience gains strength as we suffer or endure. Or at least it can, if we let it. Patience requires practice, at least that’s been my experience. But who wants to practice patience? Not me.

The mortar and pestle, one of the internationa...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I learned the hard way many years ago, NEVER, EVER pray for patience!

What happens? Oh, you get to practice, a bunch. More than you ever dreamed possible. Just don’t go there. Take my word for it. Please.

I wish I could just walk down the grocery aisle and pull a bottle of patience off the shelf and pay for it. Actually, it’d probably be something we’d have to ask the pharmacist for, like Sudafed.

“Have you used this stuff before?” he’d ask.

“Yeah, I’ve had lots of experience with it,” I’d reply with a wink.

“Two teaspoons administered twice daily, don’t take more or you’ll drop right off to sleep in the middle of something worrisome,” he’d remind me anyway.

I’d be a new woman by middle of the afternoon the next day.

Sigh.

I can dream can’t I?

Categories: Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

What We Give Up

Posted on July 4, 2013 by Kami

Half the people I know have fled town for cooler places. I had plans to flee, but alas, here I am, in the final throes of wedding plans for my youngest.

I must admit I am envious of all the absent, traveling, vacationing, escapees from the heat wave we’re in.

Ultimate-sky

A little Ultimate Frisbee anyone? (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

And not just because they’re getting out of the heat. Oh no. I’m missing a family reunion that I also had to miss last year due to partial insanity and (mostly) very low to non-existent funds. This year I scrunched, pinched, saved, cajoled and weedled my way into a plane ticket so I could go early, visit with the fam, enjoy the festivities, stay long and visit more with other fam and pretty much relax for a week.

But love waits for no man, or future in-law.

So here I am, celebrating freedom by feeling slightly, begrudgingly, unfree.

That’s just silly isn’t it?

Instead I am here, in the desert, free to enjoy my freedom, my independence, my life. And what a life it is! A quick review of this past year’s Gratituesday posts alone reminds me I am blessed beyond measure.

Sure there’s some strange happenings afoot in our little land of the stars and stripes, but it’s still an exceptional place to be. It’s an abundant life by any measure you choose.

What will the next 365 days bring? Will we give up some of our privacy, some of our freedom for a pottage bowl full of something that looks and tastes like, but isn’t necessarily security? Or will we hold our ground? Can we keep the haters at bay? Can we tolerate each other and our polar-opposite opinions or will we insist on everyone agreeing with our view of things? Will we still feel free?

If I go to a parade, or a rodeo, a picnic or a reunion, will I still be grateful? Will I still recognize this country as the one I’ve spent a lifetime in? I sure hope so.

English: Sparkler Polski: Zimny ogień

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’m counting on attending next year’s family reunion, seeing all the new babies, stunned at the growing up they do so magically, amazed at how the uncles and aunts have morphed into slightly younger version of Grandma and Grandpa, renewing friendships with cousins. Of course, my own siblings keep aging while I stay perfectly young (cough) and that is fascinating to me, too.

I’m glad I’ve stayed in town for my daughter’s sanity, her last few days of single life, the little details that need attending to. She’s only a bride this one time. I’ve got a long list to get busy with today. I’d best get to it.

Tonight’s local barbecue and sparklers…will do just fine for celebrating this country’s birthday and my freedom.

Categories: Family, Gratitude, Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The White Flag of Surrender

Posted on June 30, 2013 by Kami

I have a few questions for you.

  • Do you ever want to throw up the white flag and surrender?
  • Does admitting defeat seem like the only way to win?
  • Is giving up starting to look like your only option?
  • Will abandoning all hope give you some kind of peace?
  • Do the words “I’m done!” wait to leap from your mouth?

give-up-bg

If so I have a question for you:

  • How do YOU stop yourself from calling it quits?
  • How do YOU keep moving forward?
  • What do YOU tell yourself when things look hopeless?
  • Have YOU ever actually given in to the giving up feelings? Did it help?
  • WHY do you keep trying when you want to throw up your hands in helpless defeat?

In short:

How do you keep on keeping on?

No, don’t worry, I’m fine. I’m always fine. I have my coping strategies, my work arounds, my pick-me-ups, my support network.

I’m just wondering how other people do it.

I stand in awe of what others manage to get through. I’m amazed at their ability to withstand challenges that would wither me.

So I’m just curious about you.

What’s gotten you through the tough spots?

Categories: Hope, Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Six Things I Learned (or Relearned) Recently

Posted on June 20, 2013 by Kami

You know those moments when the lightbulb goes on over your head? Or maybe it’s not a lightbulb. For me it’s more like this sensation of balance, like everything, just for a moment, is just right. Fleeting and tenuous, those bubbles of perfection or insight can disappear without even registering on our consciousness.

idea

idea (Photo credit: Tony Dowler)

I’ve had it happen several times lately. In an effort not to forget the moment, the cogs all clicking into place, the wholeness of the idea, I’m putting them into words.

1. I need to spend time outdoors more often!

Hopped on my bike a couple of days ago after work to ride home, the temperature somewhere in the 100’s, and my body just synced with the wheels turning. I felt pleasantly warm, at peace, free. I reveled in the feeling of the ride even in the blaze of the early evening sun.

2. I want more fresh air in my days.

Stepped outside this morning to a pleasant cool, (yes, cool) breeze. A couple of hummingbirds are chittering and playing tag. The leaves on the tree shush and wave. The air hasn’t heated up yet. A young adult walks past with a lilt in his step and singing aloud along with his tunes. I could have missed this if I hadn’t been planning on a walk.

3. I need to think a few seconds longer before engaging the gears on my mouth!

Started telling someone about a negative experience I’d had, meaning only to skim the surface of the story, leave out details, gloss over the bad stuff. Instead I find myself dragging out every dumb detail and spilling my guts. Ugh! I didn’t want to relive it all, didn’t want it out there in the air. At once time I kept myself so restrained. What’s the deal? I’ve swung to the other side of the pendulum, blab, blab, blab, blab, blab. Shudder!!  Think first, speak last!

4. Be careful what you wish for, pray for, hope for, because you just might get it.

I had been wanting more alone time, quiet, peace, silence. Not for necessarily selfish reasons, but wanting to write more, connect with the deeper, more significant parts of my life without interruption. Now I’m on the verge of a completely empty nest. Sigh…Sure there’s some great things about that. I can see some downside to it, too. It’s gonna take some adjusting.

Bronze figures, Fleetwood, Lancs

Bronze figures, Fleetwood, Lancs (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

5. Say goodbye like it’s gonna be a while until you see them.

You never know if it will be the last time in a long time, or the last time, period. “Goodnight.” “See ya’ in a few.” “Talk to you next week.” Maybe the morning isn’t like every other morning. Maybe the quick trip to the store has a horrendous detour. Maybe next week doesn’t arrive for them. I don’t want to wish I’d said “I love you,” I’m just going to make sure I do, so I’ll know I did.

6. Honesty is easier.

Sure it might be more painful, more direct, ruffle some feathers or strain relationships, but it’s always the better choice. We all need a little thicker skin, to take offense less easily, to cut each other some slack. I know I do anyway.

That’s all. Nothing earthshaking in my little learning curve. Just reminders that I needed.

Any lightbulbs in your life lately?

Categories: Wondering | Tags: , , , , , | 4 Comments

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