Reunion

Meet Missy.  She reminded me to "never say never."  She came into my life because my "almost mom" wanted a toy poodle.  I thought they were frou-frou dogs and I had no expectation of even liking the dog, let alone falling head over heels for her.  I know people are always highly biased about their dogs and children, but Missy truly is the sweetest, funniest, smartest dog I've ever met. 

When I left Arkansas, I thought I was saying good bye to her forever.  But, life changes and tomorrow I'm on my way to Tulsa to pick her up.  So, for the next week I'll be driving across country, changing life once again.  I'll keep you posted on the MIssy chronicles.

About the photo:  Missy is a really good dog ... but give her a stuffed toy and she focuses obsessively on its destruction.  Record time:  8.5 minutes.

Gratitude Sunday: Water Blessing

"The essence of all beautiful art, all great art, is gratitude." -Friedrich Nietzsche 

I try to live in gratitude but have decided to dedicate Sunday's blog post to acknowledging a new gratitude, some new gift that has come my way.

Maureen at Writing without Paper is one of the most eclectic and prolific "finders" I've ever met.  She is constantly introducing her readers to new artists, poets, musicians and people who are changing the world.  This week she introduced me to Annette Cantor and I fell in love with her music and angelic voice.

Cantor is offering a free Water Blessing at her website:  http://www.annettesings.com/music.html.  What a beautiful way to remind ourselves of our gratitude for one of our most precious gifts.

See Food; Eat It

Thoughts prompted by the Awareness Jar:  Tuesday I was feeling powerful and centered.  On the way to my weekly mosaic class, I glanced over at the banana that was part of my lunch for the day.  It was just laying there on the car seat but I had a sudden impulse to eat it right then, while I was driving, even though I had just eaten cereal with a banana.  I was not hungry and hadn't thought about eating until I saw the banana.  Now I wonder what triggers those impulses which I call:  see food; eat it.

I am reading Geneen Roth's "Women Food and God, An Unexpected Path to Almost Everything" and thinking about food as a symbol for something I want, something I've always wanted but didn't get and don't know how to get but keep trying to get through food.  Food is the most interesting addiction since we can't "just say no."  We have to eat.  Our body gets hungry and wants food.  But when we eat outside that hunger it's symbolic and has come to symbolize a myriad of things ... most of our social activities involve some sort of sharing of food.  But, beyond physical hunger and social rituals, there is a type of "shadow eating" that tries to fill a space we can't see and don't understand.

 I got caught up in the mosaic class and didn't think about the banana impulse again until it was time for lunch.  I ate mine and was fine but some of the other women brought snacks to share and I found myself eating pretzels and peanuts ... which were great, of course, but I wasn't hungry and I wasn't eating with any awareness.  Some of it was the social thing but even more it was just seeing food and eating it in an autonomic response mode.  After all, I might never get peanuts and pretzels again. Why does this happen?

Obviously something in my past told me that if I didn't eat something as soon as it showed up, I might not get any later.  Something says "grab it before it gets away."  And, it's obviously not just be about food ... it probably includes love, friendship, and physical stuff.  I've often made decisions based on the assumption that if I didn't decide right this instant, the whatever-it-was would be gone.  As I write this I can actually feel the anxiety of losing out on something I want, not getting the shiny object calling to me, never again having the chance to have it.

It could be genetic going back to the days when people had to eat whatever they found whenever they found it.  But, some how, I think it's probably based on more current beliefs.  Most of our deep-seated beliefs are instilled in us by our parents, our circumstances and the other adults around us before we reach the age of consciousness (somewhere between 4 and 6).  In some ways, we are two people ... that inner self that is actually a reflection of those adult voices ... and the self we develop consciously as we grow and mature.  No matter how mature we become, we are always dealing with that subconscious inner self ... what many call the ego.  Because those beliefs formed before we had consciousness and often even language, it's very difficult to recognize them and even harder to change them.

However, it really doesn't even matter how these beliefs got into my psyche;  I can look at them now (in a moment of awareness) and realize how false they are.  I have access to an unending supply of wonderful things to eat.  If I don't eat something today, it will be available tomorrow.  And, the Universe is abundant in its offerings.  If I miss out on something today, something else, perhaps even better will show up tomorrow.  And, if it's about love, I can offer myself the unconditional love and support that I might have missed in my early life.

Intellectually I know that but obviously some part of me still operates on a three-year old level of fear, abandonment and lack.  Roth says that awareness is the key and states:

"With awareness (the ability to know what you are feeling) and presence (the ability to inhabit a feeling while sensing that which is bigger than the feeling), it is possible to be with what you believe will destroy you without being destroyed."  She goes on to say, "All any feeling wants is to be welcomed with tenderness.  It wants room to unfold.  It wants to relax and tell its story.

So, tell me a story.  I'm listening.

The Awareness Jar

I am 64, have an MBA and ran my own business for several years.  I've published 5 books, been happily married and maintained deep, long-term friendships.  On paper I'm a normal, reasonably intelligent, sane person.

But, yesterday I was bested by a bag of cookies.  Before you get the wrong idea, this wasn't Pepperidge Farm's Milanos, Girl Scouts' Thin Mints or even something from the local deli.  This was a bag of Yogurt Stars I had bought for my granddaughters because I knew I wouldn't eat them ... but then forgot to give them to them when they were here.  These are about a 1.5 out of 10 on the cookie-goodness scale.  But I ate them anyway ... all of them ... in about three rounds ... and it wasn't a mini-bag.  Once or twice I had enough awareness to ask "why?" but not enough to stop. 

Toward the end, it was the same-old refrain of "might as well eat the rest so I can go back to being perfect." For ten or fifteen minutes ... maybe.  But this particular dive into the mediocre prompted a deeper look (why does it always come after the damage is done?).  I've got a new housemate and she has different eating habits than I do and likes to have some things around that I don't resist well ... or at all.  So, I've heard myself asking her to hide them.  I didn't like what I was hearing.  I sound like a baby with no control.  Actually, it's more like a baby with no awareness ... or like a teenager refusing awareness.

Anyway, I've decided that it's time to focus on awareness ... awareness of what I'm trying to block or avoid feeling ... awareness of why I'm stuffing myself with really awful sugar when if I wanted a truly lovely dessert, I could just have it.

So, today I went to Costco and bought 23,254 calories worth of candy ... colorfully wrapped Lindt balls, Almond Roca and minis (you know ... Snickers, Baby Ruths, etc.) ... and a large glass jar to hold it all.  I'm calling it my Awareness Jar (see attached picture).  I wanted it to be as beautiful and appealing as possible ... and everything in it is way better than Yogurt Stars.

When I want sweetness, my Awareness Jar is there but my promise to myself is that I will delve into my emotional and spiritual awareness to find out why I'm wanting it ... BEFORE indulging myself.  After all, there's nothing in that jar that I need for physical sustenance and I know there's nothing in there that is even good for me.  If I have a cookie moment and eat the whole thing, it will make me very sick ... and add a minimum of 7 pounds (at 3500 calories per pound) to my body ... to say nothing of what it would do to my blood sugar.

It's an experiment and I'll let you know how it goes.  If I eat the whole thing, I'll post a picture of my chipmunk face.

Dreaming a New Dream

Louise at Recover Your Joy tells a story of Brent, a former resident of the homeless shelter where she works. Brent is a success story, living independently, working, helping others.  One of the changes that happened in his life was that he began to dream again ... to make plans ... to want to "give back."  That desire energized his transformation.

I've reached a stage in life when dreams usually aren't expected and don't make up the main focus of most conversations.  Most conversations of those of us of a "certain age" are about the state of our bodies, the foibles of our government, the lives of our children and grandchildren, the weather and the "good old days."  No wonder we run out of steam.

Right now I'm in a waiting zone ... waiting to move into a new house, waiting to figure out "what's next?"  There are many possibilities on my "what's next?" list but none of them call loudly enough to make me move in its direction.  Most of them are related to things I've done before.  They would be a stretch but they don't excite me to action.  I've been wondering if I'm just out of gas, just winding down, if I should just sit in the sun and purr like a cat.

But maybe I've just lost my dream.  It's tricky at this stage of life ... most of us have done a lot, accomplished a lot of dreams, paid our dues, done our time, fulfilled our obligations.  The message of our culture is that it's time to retire, take it easy, rest, enjoy the fruits of our labors.  We don't get a lot of encouragement to talk about our dreams, the new territories we have left to explore, what we want to do with the rest of our time, what we still have left to contribute.

Part of me wants to purr like a cat in the sun and part wants to climb new mountains and see new vistas.  An important part of me wants to dream a new dream.  One that will pull me into new territory, expand my understanding of myself and the world around me, and give back some of the abundance I've been given.

As the year heads for its half-way point, I've been trying to write a new intention.  It's been difficult to find something that really calls to me.  This morning, with the help of Brent and Louise, I've realized that what I need to find first is a new dream.

Finding Perfection in the Oil Spill

I live on a lake.  It's a small lake ... about 7 miles long.  Last weekend was a v-boat festival and the village and lake were filled with sleek, powerful boats.  Boaters would start at one end of the lake, rev their engines and zoom to the other end where there was nothing to do but zoom back again.  It's primarily a family lake and the sound of children laughing as they bounce along on floating toys carries across the water.

I drive a car.  It's a small car and I think nothing about driving the hour to Fresno to shop, buying stuff I need and lots of stuff I just want and, too often, stuff I didn't even know I wanted till I saw it.

I live in a house.  It's a small house but when I'm cold, I turn up the thermostat and when it's dark, or even dim, I flip a switch.

I carry my groceries home in plastic bags even though I try to remember to bring my own, I give my granddaughters crayons, wear glasses to help me see, walk on carpet, apply hand lotion liberally, water my garden with a hose and then sit on patio furniture to watch it grow reaching for a cool drink in a plastic glass.  I wash my hair with shampoo, talk on a telephone, work on a computer, put tires on my car and hire people to cart away all the stuff I no longer want.

In other words, I swim in a sea of oil ... as do we all.  The gulf oil spill is a tragedy regardless of whether it was caused by negligence or was simply a freak accident.  The magnitude of this event is still unknown and it is almost impossible to think about it in terms of "perfection."  And, yet, there may be a deep perfection that bubbles to the surface along with the oil that already covers an area larger than the state of Rhode Island.

Instead of considering BP, or the oil industry in general, as the bad guy in this scenario, perhaps we will finally start to look at how each of us have created the environment where this type of catastrophic potential exists in order to feed our addiction to cheap energy and throw-away goods.  Perhaps, years from now, we will look back on April 20, 2010, as the day we started to get serious about how we can sustainably use the resources our planet so generously offers us.

That would be a form of perfection.

Married to Amazement

Mary Oliver in "When Death Comes," writes:

When it's over, I want to say:  all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.


What would it mean to be married to amazement?