Crashing Ideas

My four day weekend is not turning out as I'd planned. The weekend was going to be spent doing some further organization and sorting out of my house. I really need to do this, and soon, as the chaos around me is causing chaos within. Friday, I spent the day with an old and dear friend, visiting another friend who has been in hospital for weeks with end-stage liver disease. Yesterday, I spent much needed time with The Kid, going to our local Farmers Market, laughing and people-watching. When she left our house to take in social events, I did not pick up a dust cloth or broom. I picked up a book. I read for six hours, with one small break to throw a frozen pizza in the oven (one does have to eat, even when engrossed in a good book). This morning has been a mixture of  getting minor obligations out of the way and of writing, thinking, planning. Wasted days? Certainly not. The idea of what the weekend was going to be crashed into what the weekend turned out to be.The time spent was all about sharing: sharing time, sharing ideas, sharing myself. The time spent was all about accepting: accepting time limitations, accepting ideas, accepting others.

What will my remaining day and a half away from my work-a-day world bring? Time with family later today, sharing food and time and laughs and ideas. I don't know about tomorrow yet. Perhaps the house chores will get done. Perhaps a walk in the park. Perhaps...perhaps...perhaps. Right now, not knowing and not following The Four Day Weekend Plan is okay with me. So far, not following The Plan has been far better than following The Plan.

Three things about crashing ideas:

- Being open to what is and what is being thrown my way is quite often difficult for me. My two sides of needing and following a plan, a routine, a structure and of being spontaneous and going with the flow crash into each other always, daily, sometimes each minute. Of all things in my life, this one has caused me the greatest problems. It's been read by others as not following through, not completing what I've started, committing but never quite finishing. It's not that. It's the crashing of ideas. It's the passion I have (sometimes I believe I have too much passion). It my yin and yang. It has led me to dark places of insecurity and uncertainty where I've convinced myself I'm a bad person, with not living up to others expectations and not living up to what I think should be my own expectations of myself. It has taken me back to the thirteen year old listening to the school guidance counsellor say "You have so much potential". This crashing of ideas has also led me to great freedom and great soul-feeding.

-The thoughts and ideas in my head  come so quick and unbidden that they crash into each other. It becomes a war zone in there some days. Occasionally they stick. Occasionally they are gone as quick as they arrived. I get frustrated with  my crashing thoughts. I want them all to come to fruition. The ones that stick come back again and again. I've found the second or third or hundredth time they come back, they are not crashing into each other so much, but are more like waves crashing on the rocky shore of my conscious and subconscious. "When are you going to get the message?" they say to me. "When are you going to take action?" they cry. I do; I eventually get the message and take action. My life opens up. More ideas come, they crash, and the cycle goes on.

-Writing becomes a way to sort of the crashing ideas. I sort out me. I sort out my life. Ideas about writing even crash - they crash into each other and they crash into the pigeon-holes of my daily "real" life. Having The Kid home and watching her find time to run and to do art inspires me and reminds me that some things I do, some things we all do, we do because we have to. Without doing them, we are less complete. That is me and writing. It's a compulsion. Those times in my life when I haven't written are my most barren spots, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. I write for me. I always have. Sometimes I share it with you. Going public by starting and sharing this blog has been a huge leap of faith for me. I've taken a chance and put myself out there; it might hurt. My biggest area of concern is that I temper what I say due to possible reactions from my work-a-day world. The idea of freedom that comes from writing, being and sharing myself, crashes into the idea that I still have a need (after all my years and all my fears) to live in a certain box painted by others expectations, society, values imposed by small people with small minds, whatever and wherever I've gotten this idea of what I'm supposed to be versus who I truly am. That is my own idea of fear and acceptance crashing into my idea of what truly lives within. I've found most often that the public-ness of my blog is good. There have been no negative repercussions yet (oh dear, there's that fear again).

The crashing ideas interfere with my dreams. The crashing ideas ARE my dreams. The crashing ideas mean I haven't organized my house yet but instead have spent time with some of my people, including me. The insanity of the crashing ideas keeps me sane. I keep learning about me and about others and about life. I plot it all out on my journey. I write it. I share it. The ideas keep coming. The ideas keep crashing. Which reminds me, I have this great idea about  getting some photographs together for The Brothers this afternoon. See ya, I gotta run now.

Rearranging, Reorganizing and Cleaning Out

The Kid is home after two years in South Korea. She has changed and grown. I have changed and grown. That is what is supposed to happen. It's good.  She will be living here with me for awhile; we don't know for how long. We'll know when it is time to end this arrangement. We are at a point where are living together quite comfortably as two adult women. We have spent many weeks rearranging, reorganizing, and cleaning out STUFF. We both have things to store and things to throw out and things to give away. Our home is still somewhat of a disaster zone, enough that neither of us are truly comfortable to have other people see it. We are slowly getting there though, taking time to do it right.

The rearranging, reorganizing, and cleaning out is worming its' way into other parts of my life. I feel a shift within, I see changes at my work and sense they will affect me, I'm again putting more emphasis on feeding my soul, I am standing by some of my people that are suffering and struggling, I'm yearning for something I can't quite name. I'm working with The Kid to rearrange, reorganize, and clean out our physical space. I'm working and reflecting to rearrange, reorganize, and clean out my emotional space. Some other force is working with me to rearrange, reorganize, and clean out my spiritual space. It's very interesting to me that this time of change on so many levels is happening in conjunction.

Three things about cleaning out the stuff:

- It's scary. Items, ideas, beliefs, dreams that I've been hanging onto for so long are being taken out of their closets. I'm turning them over, dusting them off, deciding what is still important, and putting them where they belong. The fear is the underlying worry "What if I keep this and don't need it?" or worse "What is I get rid of this and find out I DO need it?". Each decision requires thought and analysis. Despite the trepidation, I'm taking time to do it right, and put each item, idea, belief in the right pile. For now. I can get rid of more later. I will need to get rid of more later. I've been crabby and disgruntled and those close to me can see the frustration and fear as I slowly move through all parts of this. BUT I can replace what I remove, if I need to.

- It's exciting. I'm finding things, ideas, beliefs, and dreams I forgot I had. Some are easily put into the right pile. Others are taking longer; I'm not quite ready to let go yet. As I sort through the tangibles and intangibles in my life I am eager to see the end result. I enjoy moments of anticipation as I wade through the next closet or open my mind to a new idea or get a jolt that reminds me to feed my soul and be true to my beliefs. Progress is being made, slowly for sure, but I'm sticking with it.

- It's freeing. Moving items, ideas, beliefs, and dreams from one area to another, deciding what stays and what goes, making a little more room here, trying something out in a different spot or different way can be exhausting. After the exhaustion comes exhilaration. The desire to rest for a bit and then keep moving on, knowing I am creating and recreating my life brings me back to my self and to my greater source.

The Kid is home. Life and space are being rearranged, reorganized, and cleaned out. It is a time of adjustment, of patience, of laughter, of sharing, of love.  I don't know yet how my house will look when we think we are done. I don't know yet how my work will look when these changes are in place. I don't know yet where my soul-feeding will take me.  I don't know yet the results of the suffering I see in my people. I don't know yet what will fill this yearning. I know I'm moving forward and with patience and persistence, I will see it unfold. I am home.

Lessons from Improv

Last week I read that one of the local theatre companies in my city, Against The Wall Theatre, will again be offering improv workshops starting in September. I am excited about this! Quite a number of years ago, I took an improv class through the city recreation department and then never saw it offered again. A couple years ago, I heard about Bullskit offering improv workshops. (Bullskit is the improv and sketch comedy that Against the Wall Theatre specializes in and does so well.) With great trepidation, I signed up - and have now gone back five or six times.

I love it! I have no idea if I'm any good at this, and I don't care if I am or not, because it feeds my soul.  I'm not so sure what the instructors think of me attending time and time and time again, but as long as they are willing to take my money, I'll go. It is my best break of the week, gives me life lessons in a gentle and supportive environment, and always, always, always makes me laugh.

Three lessons I've learned from improv:

- I don't have to be "on" all the time. "Being on" ranges from having the attention and spotlight to being perfect. This is true not just for the classroom time, but in my life. I try to believe that it is okay to have a bad day or to make mistakes, but for me and my sometimes unrealistic expectations of myself, that sentiment is often paid lip service. I don't like being the centre of attention in most circumstances but I do want recognition. From improv, I am internalizing the message I don't have to be "on" all the time. I'm living my life with more "I don't have to be on all the time" and less "My stuff is more important" and less "I screwed up so that must make me worthless".

 - I can be me and be brave. The acceptance of action, humour, free-flow thinking, creativity, and self in the improv workshops reinforces for me that I am have much to offer. How those offers of my self are perceived is less important than the fact that I am brave enough and comfortable enough to take the risk by putting myself out there. It has made me more confident in work and social settings and I have less fear of being judged. And if that judgement comes, I am more able to think it through, learn from it, and move on. This one continues to challenge me daily.

- Do what you love. The importance of this hit me hard during my meet-and-greet with rectal cancer and I have made choices since that time to spend more time doing what I love. It feeds my soul so completely and brings me close to others and to my own soul and to whatever force guides us. In my work life, this is sometimes difficult. Improv has reminded me that doing what I love and what feeds my soul and what brings me joy will shine through no matter where I'm at, what I'm doing, or who I'm with. Finding time and building moments to do more of the things I love is one of my main life goals.

I will be ready with my cheque book when registration starts. In the meantime, I carry these and other lessons from improv with me. Thank you to Serge and Jenna and to those who were workshop participants.  My life and my self are both richer, thanks to you and my 'accidental' stumble into an improv workshop.

Crisis of Confidence

Hello. It's been awhile since we've met here. I'll take responsibility for that - it is hard for you to come for a visit and find no one home. I am here now, and so are you. I'm glad I came back, and I'm glad you're back too.

After a few months hiatus, it is time again for me to write. My last post started with my annual winter blues struggle. Since that time, I have done many concrete things (and also written two books, a novel, and at least a daily blog - all in my head. The words didn't find their way to paper.) I have suffered a crisis of confidence in a number of areas, with writing being one of them. I let myself stall, grinding gears, complaining about my life not running smoothly. In my previous life, my centre was crisis-oriented living. If things weren't bad they were nothing at all. With years of hard work, I was able to change my thinking patterns. My meet and greet with cancer was a huge catalyst that made me grow in ways I didn't think possible. Somehow I let all the lessons slip away. With the support of very dear friends and family that I can trust completely with my frustrations and fears, I came back home to me. Most of those around me didn't know of this struggle, but those who did, stuck with me.

Three things that contributed to my crisis of confidence:

- I became too busy. Busy at work. Busy at home. Busy with volunteering. Busy with social gatherings. I overbooked my brain. I wasn't able to be as effective as I can be, because I was so busy with it all. It's funny though; with each obligation (self-imposed or external) I have the desire and the passion - often too much passion!! - to take it head on, no holds barred, I CAN DO THIS!  I didn't leave myself enough time to DO before scrambling off to the next thing.

- I allowed the negative and poison people I interact with to affect me. Instead of shielding myself from their anger or deceit or gloom, I followed along and played their games. I didn't walk away.  I allowed them to affect me in a negative way. I prefer that my actions affect them in a positive way. Sometimes, we are put in a situation where we need to interact with these types of people. My choice the past few years has been to walk away. I forgot to do that for a few months. Masters of manipulation are so intelligent it's scary.

- I began to look for external validation. As the busy-ness and negativity took greater hold of me, I lost sight of knowing in my core self that I have worth, that I am strong, that I know me best, that life is offering me a second chance, that my spirit is connected. When the external validation didn't come often enough or in words or actions I wanted to accept, my self began to get lost. I was like a scared and wounded child. I felt rejected over and over and over again.

This sounds all very dismal, doesn't it? It hasn't been, really. I just needed to relearn Life Lessons #458, #932, and #1067 and I needed to relearn them at the same time. It's kind of like cramming for finals. I know that I KNOW the material but I let the exam-nerves take over and I did horribly on the test. But.......I can leave this study hall knowing that no one can take the lessons away from me. I have recalled and relearned them, confident in self and spirit once again.

This I Know

The snow outside my window is slowing melting, giving way to brown grass and dirt underneath. I want it to hurry up - hurry and melt and give way to the promise of spring and new life. We've had a long winter in my part of the world. The temperature has been milder 'over all' than many of our winters, but we are now at five and a half months of snow on the ground. The last of the snow and ice will be here past the six months mark. That's far too long: too many days of snow, heavy winter coats, scraping car windows, short hours of daylight, days of cloud and gray skies. I'm tired of it. This winter hit me hard. I became my winter self. I did try to fight it, for awhile, but gave in to being that cold, gray, stormy person. I know the way out of this but chose to not fight. I'm not sure why - it just seemed too hard. Rather than taking control, I waited for the magic to transform my world. It didn't happen. While waiting for the magic I hurt myself, and worse, I hurt other people. Today there is hope of spring in the air. The magic is coming.

I've written of and spoken of reclaiming myself. This week I realized it is not reclaiming myself that is my mission and purpose, but reclaiming my self. I know deep within my core, my soul, my heart that my self is there and always has been. Reactions to my life circumstances caused me to bury that self for many years; I believe we all do this. I've been given a second chance to live, to be that self. I have a do-over. Will I do it perfectly? No. Will I hurt myself and others? Yes. Will I struggle, fall down, have days of wanting to give up and give in? Certainly! Will I keep getting back up, brush myself off, and move forward? Definitely.

Three things that my self knows:

- I have a purpose here. We all do. Determining what our purpose is requires soul-searching and finding those moments that bring absolute joy and peace. Often it seems easier to turn off the switch and focus on the expectations of others; to try to live within the boundaries set by family, community, our work places; to live a life as written by external forces. These may align with our self and our purpose at times. Growth comes at those times we are not aligned and in tune with the external. What doesn't feel right? Why? Where do you go from here? Answering these questions will move you toward finding your purpose.

- Circumstances change. My self doesn't. My self is an unchanging rock connected to the intangible. Your self is there for you to discover and rediscover, many times over. Standing up for your self, finding that connection, and knowing peace and joy is difficult. For some, it becomes too overwhelming and they spend their lives disconnected from their own self. We all know those people. We judge them or pity them or become angry with them. It is so very hard not to react to them. We grow tired of seeing them hurt themselves and others.  Knowing your self and knowing you are that rock takes times of confidence, times of pain, times of doubt, times of back-tracking, times of certainty. Each time I feel knocked down, discouraged, and in pain, I now know that my self is there on the other side, waiting for me to return. Yours is, too.

- My self is intimately connected to others. I have work to do to let them in, to accept them just as they are, to know the connection is sometimes painful and sometimes soul-feeding. We cannot function without allowing our people to be part of our lives. Finding common ground with those who are not aligned with our purpose is more than difficult; it can be impossible. There are those we know hurt our selves and it is okay to walk away from them. We live every day with people who don't support us, don't know or understand us (or even want to) that still must be a part of our lives. Finding compromises to interact with them is exhausting. Remember your own self is that rock. You are strongest in moments of weakness. My people keep me going, give me hope. Find your people. Let them in.

Winter will pass. The snow will melt. Green grass and leaves return. My self knows this. I've survived another winter, without and within.

Taking Stock and Chicken Stock

I've spent the last week laid low with a bout of bronchitis coupled with a sinus infection. Since my meet and greet with cancer five years ago, I've been healthy, with hardly even a cold. This downward spiral with my health actually started about six weeks ago. I was hit with a norovirus and that wore me down. The stomach bug only lasted a couple days but it was quickly followed by a sore throat that came and went, and a cold that I couldn't quite shake. And then, WHAM, last weekend the other infections took hold and settled in. Being sick and by myself, I let myself become morose and felt so very sorry for myself. I didn't  have a can of soup or a drop of broth in the house. Friends asked if I needed anything. I was tough enough to say no. I know better than that; I have learned to ask for help when I need help. It's a hard thing to do and I didn't do that this week, this month, or this year.

The weeks leading up to this recent illness were filled with stressors, both in my work life and in some areas of my personal life. I reverted to old coping mechanisms that I KNOW are counter-productive. I had lost sight of myself and all the ways I've grown, and couldn't remember how to function under stress. It slipped in without my even being aware of it, somehow. After all, the stress was not one big life-changing event but many smaller things going on around me. Most of those things weren't even in my life, but events and happenings affecting other people. I reacted, because I couldn't fix anything for anyone. I could not fix the things that were directly affecting me. Decisions were made at levels and by people I couldn't influence. I had lost my magic wand. I chose to react to one minor change in my life and focused on that with negativity. All my thoughts and energy were used to concentrate on perceived unfairness. It was easier to do that than to accept that I couldn't fix people's pain and easier to do that than let go of others' decisions.  I lost my resilience, at emotional and intellectual levels, which led to losing my resilience at a physical level.

Three things I relearned while laying on my couch, alone, watching garbage daytime TV and feeling sorry for myself:

- My role is not to fix people or to fix their lives. I can empathize with their pain. I can try to understand. I can listen. I can hug them. I can love them, but I can not fix them or fix their lives.

- I know that I am at a crossroads in my own life. I know I have a decision to make. I know what that decision has to be, to stay true to myself. I have been avoiding and running from this decision for many months. I have let fear hold me back from moving forward. I have work to do to overcome the fear.

- Always keep soup in the cupboard.

I'm recuperating, feeling a bit better each day. Antibiotics and a lot of rest are helping my body fight. Time alone is helping my brain and spirit fight for my sense of self. I am getting myself ready for the next stage, next phase, next step in my life.  I had a brief thought this week that I made myself sick. I don't believe I wanted this to happen but I believe I needed to make this happen. In some ways that feels like my old way of crisis-oriented living. It isn't, though. My most inner self knows I needed to stop. I'm feeling a bit better each day. The journey to me and  who I am continues, with chicken stock in the cupboard and taking stock in my soul.

Lessons From a Generation

We said a final goodbye to my aunt last Saturday. She died just days after her ninetieth birthday, the last surviving sibling of a family of thirteen. There was an outpouring of emotions from her many nieces and nephews; we were all feeling a profound sense of loss as the last of this generation died. This was an exceptionally close family, often gathering in groups of two, three, six, seven. Only once, at their parents 50th anniversary, did all thirteen children gather together. We all grew up knowing our cousins; for many, cousins were extended brothers and sisters. I was the youngest grandchild and didn't have many cousins my same age; I grew up with second cousins mostly. I still knew those older first cousins, and many were like more siblings and in some cases, almost a surrogate parent. My last maternal aunt is gone. (I have one remaining paternal aunt-in-law.) The tears we cried were not for my aunt, but for us and for the changes time brings. We are the oldsters now.

Three things, of many, I learned from my aunt and her siblings:

- The value of education, learning, and perseverance. This family struggled to ensure that all were fed and clothed. Poverty was a way of life. Each of the thirteen found some measure of success and most were able to rise above the humble financial beginnings. My great-grandparents came to Canada to provide a better life for their families, to give them a chance that they could not find in their native Norway. The Thirteen overcame difficulties and found a way to go to school and find work. This often meant moving away, far away from the home nest, and forging a life that would be better for THEIR kids. I saw this lesson played out in my generation as aunts, uncles, cousins, opened their doors and their lives to have a cousin or niece or nephew live with them as they went to school or got their footing in a new town, a new job. The Thirteen struggled, and none were rich, but they passed this message along in such a deep way that it is a core value. Many of my generation, while not rich, are successful. Many of The Thirteen were avid readers and loved crossword puzzles and the fun of the English language. I see this same love of learning, of language, of word play with my cousins.

- Thrift and enjoyment of what you have. This was the generation that truly understood what recycling means. Pieces of tin foil and waxed paper carefully folded and reused, reworking clothes for another use or another child, cutting buttons off to be sewn onto another garment once the original was beyond repair, cutting paper-thin and worn out clothes into rags. Nothing was wasted and everything was reused. Growing up in poverty and surviving the depression may have forced this onto them, but the same habits continued after life became easier. I get sad when I think what a throw-away society we have become, and how we "need" the newest car, newest electronic toy, how we crumple up the Christmas wrapping and throw it all away. Along with the thrift, the true appreciation of what they had was something to admire. Striving for a better life, yes, but not often regretting the lives they had.

- A love of laughter and family. The deep bonds were so inherent with this generation that we gathered last week, knowing an era has ended, but reconnecting with cousins seldom seen to know our place, our history, our own selves. As we gathered last week, the focus was this family. Many who couldn't be there expressed their love of family through emails and through Facebook. The Thirteen loved to laugh and could laugh at all situations. There were problems, serious problems, but The Thirteen could cry and laugh and join in shared emotion to make everything seem all right, even during the times when things were far from 'all right'. This lesson continues; we gather now as grown cousins and we laugh and we laugh and we laugh. Nothing is so serious that we can't see the ridiculous. We possess an intelligent humour and carry with us the love of a good pun, a good story, a well-placed comeback. We laugh at ourselves, we laugh at each other, we laugh at others. We trade stories and we tease each other. We face life defiantly, knowing family and laughter will carry us through the toughest times.

This is an exceptional family and I learned how to live from The Thirteen. It hasn't been easy for me, and it certainly wasn't easy for them. The lessons reveal themselves to me in both stunning realizations and in little nudges to my brain. Through it all, I try to remember to laugh and to reach out to my family. Family is the truly the most important and steadfast blessing in my life. I will miss my aunt, as I miss my Mom and her siblings, but I will never forget how she and her siblings shaped my life and the lessons they taught me. I hope I can be an oldster as magnificent as you. Thank you.