Some things just make you go HMMM. I’ve been going thru totes of memories that we have moved from one house to another to another to another. The best part was reading through old letters from friends of 45+ years…laughing, shaking my head, and doing a lot of WHATS??? I read things that could easily have been someone else’s life because I had a lot of blanks in my memory. I took snapshots of some things and emailed to my loves who are still a part of my life….and….googled other people who are not in my life anymore and sent out some feelers because I want to know how they are and if they are happy and content. It’s been a great few days getting to know me again as a young woman!
But the one that really got me was finding a box of our wedding reception napkins. I decided to just take them upstairs and use them instead of storing them. I mean after 41 years, we haven’t needed them for anything else.
Who the hell are Donna and Jeff. Half the box. Question number 1. If Donna and I both had the same color combo in our weddings a week apart, I need to find her.
Did Donna find some of our napkins in her box of napkins?
I’ve finally pulled out of my two day funk! It’s been dark and lonely. A Zoom “Friday night thing” with two friends last night was what I needed to finish the extraction of my toes completely from the quicksand. We are relatively new friends…relative as far as our age and life experience but we are doing this really cool thing. We are communicating face to face on zoom. Communicating our words and facial expressions and laughter! No distractions other than where we lead each other with our thoughts. Another Corona-bonus (thank you Michael Beckwith for the reference). I’m not sure without these Zoom meetups we would have gotten to know each other quite as well.
In no particular order, I’m feeling gratitude today.
My grandchildren who have taught me what love feels like. My beautiful, strong daughters who have taught me….the list is too long. My husband who taught me how to live with someone for 41 years …. growing, forgiving, loving. My old friends who love me unconditionally and have taught me that I’m worthy of the love I didn’t receive growing up. The new friends I’ve made since we’ve moved from the only life we knew to this one…they took over the daily work from the old friends. I am thankful for my parents….even my mother as she made me grow up faster than probably healthy but I learned how to take care of other people and how to think like a grown up…..and I’m thankful for the heart break and affection of past male relationships in my life who were a little more than friends…You were my test drives for that one lifelong relationships to come.
Flying in from Belize on my 59th birthday, the plan was to land at KCI and head to Saint Luke’s in Lee’s Summit because I was sick and I was worried. While in Belize I had sudden onset of excruciating pain and for the most part slept and ate toast our last couple of days.
A CT scan provided the diagnosis of a serious case of diverticulitis which took several weeks of iv antibiotics to cure. But the bomb shell was these words.
….and we see a suspicious mass on your left kidney which is most likely cancer.
The diagnosis that changed my life….and led me to the path I’m living now. To say kidney cancer was a good thing is kind of ridiculous but I can say for certain that it had a positive effect on my life!
This morning, I received the results from my 5 year CT scan. I am cancer free. I’m feeling all of the emotions of love and gratitude! What a beautiful way to start the day!
Well here we are at 1:49 am on a Sunday morning…the nerd and his sister woke me again. I visit with these two often in the middle of the night. I’m not really sure what she looks like but he is wearing a too tight white shirt with a black tie and as we have become acquainted when my eyes fly open in the middle of the night, I swear if he stood up it would be Sheldon from Big Bang. It seems the nerd is always silently enunciating words to me which feels like he’s trying to explain something and it appears he is sitting in a Hy Vee parking lot. As I made my way to the bathroom this morning, I freaked myself out with the thought…oh dear God what if they are my spirit guides that I’ve been curious about?
Thus I’m wide awake now writing words.
I sleep in our day bed 2 nights a week in my office/craft room because I get up at 4:15 to prepare for my job. No need to wake Him and the cats at 4:15 am “preparing” which means I roll out, turn on the keurig, half turn and click on the computer and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Since starting this job with the early morning routine, often I find myself waking up with a start once to several times a night. Anxiety I’m guessing….and the nerd and his sister are usually my first vision.
Across from my bed in the office is one of those huge round clocks from a couple decades ago…night before last I jumped out of bed because in the dark room, the hands on the clock were on 6:00…I overslept. While the nerd and his sister didn’t appear, I’m positive he was there snickering when I realized it was really only 11:30 pm as I passed by the microwave clock … I had been asleep 3 hours.
So now I will open my book and read a couple/three paragraphs until my eyes get heavy and I gratefully nod off. It works nearly every night. I’m hoping that addressing the Nerd in a nocturnal blog strips him of the joy of waking me in the middle of the night for nothing more than a few seconds of silent demonstrative blabber….wonder what he is really trying to tell me?
I was recently on the receiving end of tears…I wasn’t really sure why I was crying but I knew I was triggered because something needed to be healed. I started writing things down and found myself here..at the blog space. There are sadness tears that fall, say, funeral tears or just extreme loss and sadness tears. Those tears don’t seem to need anyone to “control” them. I just need to hold a space for them until they dry up.
There are anger tears. Anger tears seem to have a purpose for me. I think of them more as rage tears. Rage Tears deserve their honor in a place of respect, cleansing and healing. I welcome rage tears because they protect me from myself…its really hard to keep a volatile situation volatile when one person is crying and not contributing to the dark energy.
Sometimes there are those incredible laughter tears…for me, those are usually accompanied by the inability to breath and sore stomach muscles because it is just that funny.
And there are love tears…empathy tears, I have such deep feeling tears. Those tears may start and end abruptly or they may lead to a softening which often leads me to music and a feeling of gratitude.
The embarrassment of crying in front of someone has it’s home in your ego…your small self…the fear that you will appear weak, emotional, any of the society’s stereotypical label. Crying is not a girl thing, women’s work, unstable, not masculine…crying means you are strong. Not feeling embarrassment about tears means you are a warrior! I am strong and I am sensitive and I know how to love!
Until my friend, Linda, shared her passion for writing these addictive short forms of poetry as they came to her through the day. Seriously, Now that I have started playing with words (thanks for the reference, Linda) I often now think in 5, 7, 5 structure…counting on my fingers the number of syllables in phrases.
Haiku (俳句, listen (help. · info)) is a type of short form poetry originally from Japan. Traditional Japanese haiku consist of three phrases that contain a kireji, or “cutting word”, 17 on (a type of Japanese phoneme) in a 5, 7, 5 pattern, and a kigo, or seasonal reference
Many people have been taught in schools that haiku is a 5-7–5-syllable form of poetry. In Japan, they don’t actually count syllables at all, but sounds.
I’ve been keeping a journal of my Haiku jots. Cheap entertainment for pandemic boredom!
Tuesday was a very pleasant day for us…especially since we have not been out much in the past 5 month quarantine. We have had many conversations about “if we could only go camping” which would require us to purchase a camper…and a pickup to get the camper from point A to point B. For entertainment we have been dream searching for a truck on line which in the back of our minds we had no intention to buy solely because I could not see myself spending hours and hours with other irritable people at the DMV during a pandemic. I could end the story here by saying we went “out there” to search and there is nothing out there…most dealerships we visited had shockingly bare lots. It would have been easier to find a heads up penny in the parking lot than an affordable used truck….or an affordable new truck unless we had enough money laying around to buy a small house.
But this is really a story about attachments. As we sat in the socially distanced show room with a salesman, I told Phil that this is the very first time I didn’t have an attachment to the outcome. Normally I have had my sites set on the vehicle I wanted…firmly set on the outcome that I would buy a vehicle before I left the dealership. Through the crazy discussions … especially those crazy discussions in my head always waiting for the conversation to play out as if I were directing it. Always knowing I could walk out but that really wasn’t a real option because through tunnel vision there was no real option other than signing on the line.
I could also feel neutral energy from him. I knew we were not operating from a place of fear or scarcity. I felt I could think clearly while acknowledging that my happiness and continued blessings and gratitude were not tied up in whether I would/could get my way on someone else’s playground.
Bottom line, we spent an enjoyable afternoon together doing what we have always liked to do together, drive through car lots and dream…envisioning ourselves driving around enjoying the new car smells…in our vision….that will come in the right time.
My friend Terri was in my head this morning when she posted a picture on FB of a cup of espresso – She captioned the picture “a few extra shots of espresso and new pens….it’s going to be a great Monday”. Oh Terri…I totally get it!
I have a brand new package of 12 multi-color gel pens laying on my desk…I have a partially opened (to grab the purple) package of multi colored gel “glitter” pens in the top desk drawer and I also have an orange zippered canvas pencil holder with my very favorite colored gel pens that I’ve picked up individually just because I can’t resist the color.
I love smooth writing pens…love them…I write a lot…I write haikus, I write notes for haikus – I jot a lot. I take very brief notes at work and often use different color pens to separate notes for different callers. I jot myself don’t forget notes… while on the phone I make stars and color them in, I make faces, I jot down and play with my favorite letters or favorite words. Yesterday I filled out doctors office paperwork with aqua…I hesitated but completed the task in bold, beautiful aqua because that is who I was yesterday!
This morning one of those wormy kind of things wiggled its way into my consciousness and I recognized it as a symptom of my fear of scarcity. I won’t head dive into everything I’ve learned in the last couple of years about the fear of not having enough…whether it be money or toilet paper or love … but Once I recognized it in myself, I started questioning if this is the fear that has many hoarding toilet paper and chlorine wipes during this pandemic. This fear was a cloud I remember over my childhood…it probably goes without saying that a child should not grow up aware of their parents fear….but we know what sponges children are. My parents were young adults during the depression so I get it!
With that in mind, it is obvious when you look at my overflow closet in the basement that I buy in bulk. The difference in buying in bulk to save money and buying in bulk because of the comfort of always having what I think I need when I need it is a very thin line.
Just like all of my spiritual ah ha moments, I’m not sure why this realization showed up this morning…but I know it comes to be healed. I buy coffee in bulk …a box of 72 keurig morning blend and one box of dark roast. It used to be when the stash got down to 12 or 13 K cups, I knew it was time to reorder. Similar to a friends wife who sent her husband to the store for cartons of cigarettes when she was down to one carton in the closet.
This morning when I lifted the lid I realized that another 2 boxes of kcups arrived this week…I obviously did not need to order. The realization hit me that this is a bigger issue than I realized…this fear of running out. I think the pandemic and the run on toilet paper inflamed my “lack” nerve. Instead of irritation with the lack of toilet paper on the shelves of the grocery store, I send grace to those people who, perhaps, are also suffering from an unrecognized fear of lack. I need to offer grace to everyone who is not exactly like me because I have NO IDEA what their lives and their fears feel like to them!
I have a girlfriend that often speaks her mind on her own Facebook page. She doesn’t troll around spewing her discontent and opinions on the pages of others (as far as I know). But I’m pretty confident that she doesn’t because on her own personal posts on her very own page, she most often leaves a disclaimer. Do not argue on my page…argue on your own page…if you leave your negative comments on my page, I will delete them. Bravo, J!
I’m noticing more folks are getting in “my face” on my Facebook page…words and comments that not only are opposite but, quite frankly, impolite…..AND the bottom line for me is when the comments of friends and family are bullied!
I use the Facebook filter to keep my posts from being available to the known offenders or from those Who have proven they have a different political belief than I do and apparently don’t think I’m aware of it?? Occasionally the bullying slips through. Those comments are deleted as soon as I catch them.
This is as close as I will come assuring that if you don’t agree with me, that is great but DO NOT clutter my Facebook page with your opinions because blocking you is the next option. And by golly, I’m not afraid to use it.