Pictorial To-Do List for 2011

Take the time to  wander  through
God's art gallery.

Learn to skip.

Dance, dance, dance.... 

Schedule play dates with your Inner Child.

Pause and refresh.

Cuddle with your favorite people

Stay in the Moment

When you feel like you're drowning... Stop struggling.
Check out the view instead.

Learn to love every season of your life.

Sing out loud! 

Inhale...... Exhale.....

Look at your world from different views.

Work hard and make your unique
contribution, every day.

Read the entire collection!

And finally, Pray (you talk to God)
Meditate (you listen to God)
every day......

Final Farewell Thoughts...

There is nothing original about the  ending to my examination of my unexamined life.  But then there rarely is anything original about endings (or beginnings) for that matter.  Unique in the mind of the individual, certainly... But original? Never.   Here are  a series of quotes from the famous  to the obscure. Handwritten on sheets of notebook paper, tucked inside my morning meditation books. Each etched out  a few steps on my path in my spiritual journey to discover my authenticity and redefining my reality.  I accumulated so many of them. I found it fascinating to see there is little original about their meaning and content. A kind of you say potato, I say po-tahhhh-toe scenario. Three decades ago Zig Zigler's PMA (positive mental attitude) is today's "The Secret".   Quotes and schools of thought cited throughout the centuries, same concept, written in varying ways, by different individuals. The beauty in the repetition of wisdom, repeated throughout time, isn't so much about the verbiage as it is about our own pace  to understanding, and which words resonate with our higher selves.  What is unique, and original, is each soul, and its means of "getting there".... And, we all will, eventually. I have experienced some of the greatest joys in my life this year.  I didn't need to buy anything new, move, fall in love, travel outside the country, accumulate stuff, accumulate friends, get a noteworthy job, cling to everyone else's opinion of me, to feel good about me,  inject my face with botox, get new breasts, or starve or exercise myself into a size 2.   What I have learned to do is pay attention, feel what I am feeling... good or bad, acknowledge it and try not to judge it; treat my body as my sacred home instead of a guest cottage, pray in new ways, listening more, chattering less; I have learned how to forgive, beginning with myself;  see others as spirit rather than form; learn the real meaning of love, by learning how to love me. I am a phenomenal lover these days!  I  look at the world now through the curious eyes of a child.  I've learned to be honest, beginning with my own heart, honoring who I am and what I need rather than trying to fit, or please others; I also now  give much more purely, accept what I cannot change (and I can only change me), and I know to let go, empowers me.   The quotes/wisdom of others made my walk in the desert less solitary.  Wisdom arises from experience.  Others quotes helped me to know, they too have walked in their own desert.  Here are some of the pebbles dropped along my road this year, markers to help me make my way home.


1.  Things that matter most must never be at the mercy of things that matter least. - Goethe
2.  Life does not accommodate you, it shatters you.  It is meant to, and it couldn't do it better.  Every seed destroys its container or else there would be no fruition. - Florida Scott-Maxwell
3.  We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark.  The real tragedy is when men are afraid of the light. - Plato
4.  Everybody is a genius.  But, if you judge a fish by its inability to climb a tree, it will spend its whole life believing that it is stupid. - Albert Einstein
5.  Don't ever take a fence down until you know why it was put up.  - Robert Frost
6. The first time someone shows you who they are, believe them. _ Maya Angelou
7.  Don't cry because its over.  Smile because it happened. - Dr. Seuss
8. Honesty is the first chapter in the book of wisdom. - Thomas Jefferson
9. If it isn't good, let it die.  If it doesn't die, make it good. - Ajah Chah
10.  People will do anything, no  matter how absurd to avoid facing their own soul. - Carl Gustav Jung
11.  Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind. - Dr. Seuss
12.  In the end only three things matter:  How well we have lived, how well we have loved, and how well we have learned to let go. - Jack Kornfield
13.  Duh... girls, girls... it's toilet paper! - Cameron Elizabeth Eckert, age 3
14.  Don't let anyone walk through your mind with their dirty feet. - Mahatma Gandhi
15.  I have an everyday religion that works for me.  Love yourself first, then everything else falls into place. - Lucille Ball
16. It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye. - Antoine de St. Exupery
17. I wonder why love is so often equated with joy when it is everything else as well: devastation, balm, obsession, granting and receiving excessive value, and losing it again. - Florida Scott Maxwell
18.  I could choose peace instead of this. - Course in Miracles

19. ON A LIGHTER NOTE:  Sex is interesting, but it's not totally important. I mean it's not even as important (physically) as excretion. A man can go seventy years without a piece of ass, but he can die in a week without a bowel movement. - Charles Bukowski (certainly put some things in perspective!!)
And finally............
20.  You're off to Great Places!  Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting, 
So.... get on your way! - Dr. Seuss (Oh, The Places You'll Go)

With Love....

Rejection is God's Protection.....

"Rejection is God's Protection".....Someone said this to me today.   It softened the blow. 


Now, if I could just remember in the future, to keep that in mind when I don't get something I think I want, need, or deserve.  In all honesty, I do believe that..... and, not just with my head anymore;  that seedling is blossoming in my heart as a divine truism. I inherently sense the protection.  It's that sinking stomach and the icy fear pushing through my veins of what the future holds that I don't like. It's the emotion of the rejection.  


And, then my friend reminded me... it's all good. I  can rest comfortably knowing the pictures I am painting in my head of doom and gloom are merely an illusion.  I'm being safely held in God's arms.... today.


I've had a number of disappointments that have given me great opportunity to practice patience and faith for quite some time now. It's extremely difficult for some of us stubborn, self-willed sorts to trust that whatever happens is always for our greater good.  Especially when our basic needs for food, shelter, clothing or love appear to be threatened. 


If I could just remember to simmer down and revisit those rejections or disappointments from days gone by.... those times when I thought God had turned the volume down on my pleadings,  I can now see HIS bigger picture has allowed for MY better picture. 


It's said, God never closes a door that he doesn't open a window.  I'm not great with directions, and sometimes it would be wonderful to just be told which room that window's in.   Less time consuming.   And, certainly gentler on this aging body and soul.   Oh, dear.  Is that my hand white knuckling that door knob? 


God said, "What's behind there isn't meant for you because I have something so much better in mind."  Why do you continue to limit yourself?   I want to give you a window where you are free to fly..... Free to be who you are. Stop rattling the knob of closed doors."


I think.... the best thing I can do at this stage of  my schooling (also called life) is simply stop questioning anything.  If the door is closed, it is shut for a reason.  The room is probably stuffy, stale and stinky.  Stay out.  Don't go in there. 
  
I feel.......When its time for me to find this window,  I'll  be delivered clear directions.... the tender brush of a breeze on my cheek, gently guiding me towards the freshest, sweetest air I could ever imagine. As I breathe deeply, I will hear the whisper inside my soul saying this is yours... all of this...see.... just perfect for you. 

We can never judge the lives of others, because each person knows only their own pain and renunciation. It’s one thing to feel that you are on the right path, but it’s another to think that yours is the only path. - Paulo Coelho - Brazilian author

The Lenten season has begun. There is something about this time of year that leaves me feeling rejuvenated.  It’s  the final introspection of Winter, gently transitioning into the joy of spring and new growth!  This year I have been cautiously reflective in deciding on a Lenten commitment.  In the past, it has been a time of giving up something, or focusing on changing a bad behavior.. Generally, my enthusiasm lasts just a few days and then I am back to eating cheese, cursing, or missing church on Sunday.  Eating lunch with my three year old granddaughter a few days ago, a discussion about the Ash Wednesday service we would be attending in the morning unfolded.  I wanted to prepare her and let her know the deacon would be placing a cross of ash on our foreheads.  She asked, “Mimi, what’s ash?”  I said, “It’s like dirt.”  I didn’t bother to explain the symbolism of ashes to ashes and dust to dust.   In between  bites of peanut butter and jelly sandwich (with the crusts cut off) she wrinkled  her nose, and said, “Ewwwwww.”  The conversation continued and I said, ”Cameron, for Lent we give up something for six weeks....like candy or temper tantrums.   What are you going to give up?”  She looked at me incredulously, big blue eyes wide, and said, "Church."  Out of the mouths of babes..... Comical, for sure, but I have echoed that same sentiment these past several years. Why would we want to go places that made us feel bad or degraded us in any manner?   I write about my grandchildren often.  I see God in and through them.  They're my teachers and have led me to many ah ha moments, innocently guiding me through some of the lessons I need to learn.

A seeker since childhood,  my curiosity has taken me through most denominations of the Christian faith.  I also have stuck a baby toe into the waters of Buddhism, Kabbalah, as well as New Age.  Through all  those experimentations, I didn't actually find a God of comfort and understanding until I entered a Twelve Step program.  In those rooms, I began to learn, I am a spiritual person having a human experience.  This God of MY understanding does not possess any of those icky qualities, I heard about Him growing up.  My God does not recriminate, discriminate, get angry,  or pick favorites.  I would have a tough time accepting and depending on a Source with the same human frailties and defects I have. Nonetheless, I seemed to be comfortable participating in many of the same religions and organizations I’d used to seek comfort and  enlightenment, in the past. It all enhanced my serenity and knowledge, and it wasn’t difficult for me to take what I needed, privately, and joyfully leave some of ideology behind.  Especially in the early days when I wore the blush of newly discovered, Higher Power love.

In the past few years,  I haven’t felt comfortable participating in the faith I had freely joined years ago, OR my  twelve-step programs;  virtually writing off the spiritual communities of any kind.  When human beings started acting like human beings, sadly, I copped an I’m “outta here” attitude and put on my protective coat of armor, shielding me from the hypocrisy of the participants.  I painfully felt the judgement when I broke “their rules”.  As I’ve walked away from those resources, I've adorned myself in the myth of uniqueness, (or as I crudely named it, I put up my BS detectors) and isolated; picking apart and justifying the reasons for my lack of attendance.   There is absolutely no denying, there have been a few “program and religious” sorts who have betrayed, lied, and created a cyclone of damage in my life and to my well being.  And, it all  left  me reeling and feeling very alone in living with, and cleaning up some major messes.  It appeared "those"  people bent “the rules” and hid behind written doctrine, or twisted guidelines to justify their behavior. There have been people who have berated and questioned my choice of my Higher Power.  Some have unsolicitedly, evaluated my direction, search and approach in moving towards a greater knowledge of my Creator and His will for my life. Others, plainly didn't honor their word, or walk like they talked, and simply weren't trustworthy.   A few even moved into the role of God in determining what they thought best for me. I began to label many of them as THOSE people... You know the ones who dispense unhealthy, fear based information, commandments and rigid rules designed to keep the masses in check. Others were branded a secret society of hypocrites....   It all just left me feeling, mistrustful, sad, and protective.... of my own feelings and sanity.   

So, I quit attending, and sharing, and began to fill those needs alone; through meditation, mindfulness practice and spiritual literature. It's true, I have  gained a lot of knowledge, and much of it  rings good and honorable... in my head. But something was missing.... The feeling of being awash with awe at the stained glass windows at my church. The hug inside my heart of a homily given by a like-minded spirit speaking directly to me and my current condition.  Seeing the dawn of awakening in a newcomer's eyes  at a twelve step meeting.  What I was cutting myself off from, was the palpable Light.  The reflection of love that can only be experienced at a soul level, not a left brain level.   Humans were created to learn, and grow in this earth school.  Much of that growth comes from engaging with others suffering from the same human conditions.  If we hand over the rearing to our heads and egos exclusively, we are going to raise a really biased, sick soul.   There is an energy that flows through these holy places where people gather.  Not everyone acts in purity...we are all works in progress.  But, if one sits very quietly and turns the noise way down, we can hear the heartbeat..... the True Life of the “organization”.   I know I can rest quietly, just be in the presence of that common energy, and drink from the well of community, learning, and healing.  

Our paths are as unique as our fingerprints. When I stop letting the doctrine drown out the greater message,  when I eliminate control and judgment, I make a contribution to the aura of Love that changes lives.  I need to  return to take what I need and leave the rest.  I heard the message the other day....in a very round about manner, through my grand-daughter.  We can justifiably be hurt or appalled by some of the messengers, but don't burn down the entire town.  Practice the principles that enhance yours and others lives and make a positive contribution. Pray for the personalities. How am I any different from what I rejected and ran from, if I  pass judgement on others ways, or manipulate and try to control them into believing as I do?   My Lenten journey for 2011 is to practice the unconditional love of non-judgement, in all of my affairs.  In church Wednesday, I found comfort in the traditions of the Mass itself and the symbolism in the cross of ashes.  It gently lead me into a silent prayer asking  God to work and walk with me in practicing my Lenten commitment. 

And, I think Cameron was moved in some way  by her cross of ashes.  She spent the day, tenderly touching her forehead. She may want to rethink her Lenten sacrifice!  But, that's her call and her  little path!   

Free Hugs in Sondrio, Italy and an encounter in Sienna, Italy....

The video posted was a reminiscent of an experience I had on an extended trip to Europe a few years ago. While on my sojourn, caught up solely in the excitement and adventure of visiting a new city in Italy every few days, I had gotten out of the practice of taking care of my spiritual side. I was entranced by the sounds, sights, food, and culture.  A month or so into the trip, I found myself becoming oddly irritable at tiny things;  selfish and snippy as the days passed.  The humility and gratitude of being blessed with this trip of a lifetime had slipped away. Why? 

 As a participant in a Twelve Step program, I hadn’t taken “my medicine” in quite a long time. I failed to spend a few minutes with my God every morning, nurturing that relationship and practicing gratitude, a big dose of the suggested treatment for restless, irritable and discontent.  Arising one morning, feeling slightly edgy,  my thoughts turned to how much I did miss the Twelve Step influence back home, which I often take for granted; the slogans, the hugs and bonding with friends, just like me.  I took the time that morning to ask for forgiveness for my lack of gratitude... and a favor. I asked my Higher Power to touch me in some way so that I would feel His healing presence and be restored to a saner, more appreciative human being. 

Later that  day, while sightseeing in Sienna Italy, we rounded the corner into a very crowded piazza in front of the Duomo di Sienna.  Searching out  the best path to reach the church, we all stopped and peered over the heads of the throng of tourists.  Many yards across the piazza, I caught the eye of a lovely young woman carrying a clipboard.   Magnetically, her eyes locked on mine, as she weaved and gently pushed her way through the crowds.  When she stood directly in front of me, she spoke in broken English and said, “I need you to sign my petition. You see, this petition is for our government to provide funding and treatment for addicts, so they can become healthy and productive citizens again, just as my recovery has done for me.   I have been clean and sober for two years.” In disbelief, I said to her, “I am in recovery too... for 21 years!”   She took my hands and began reciting the serenity prayer in broken English, beckoning me to join in.  Then she took a very familiar token from her pocket.  The token was a recovery timeline coin given to her by an American tourist over a year ago.  The familiar triangle of Unity, Service and Recovery, brought tears to my eyes.  Right there in a heavily trafficked piazza, in front of a sacred church in Sienna, Italy, a young Italian woman and I shared a Twelve Step Meeting culminating in tears of gratitude and hugs.  My brother,  silently standing right next to us, said later, “I knew I was witnessing something magical and I just wanted to stand by and absorb the aura of it.  It was like an energy force was surrounding two women, thirty year age difference between them, an ocean of miles separating their cultures, two unique languages, yet they were the same." The invisible umbilical cord of affliction and path to recovery, formed a spiritual safe house that didn't leave any  doubt, we were all in presence of something much greater than ourselves. We parted company with a hug which caught fire and spread to others throughout the piazza. 

God had answered my prayer, out loud, in a very profound way. 

I am not alone, ever. I have a choice.   I can wallow in the  discontent or I can ask for what I need without creating the story of how it should be packaged.  All I need to do is open my heart, and my arms, to the messages, exactly as they come.   

When I watched this video this week, (thanks to my friend for sharing it with me) tears in my eyes, I was overcome witnessing the same power my brother must have seen. A simple hug ....evoking a smile, making someones day, or just reassuring we aren't alone. We don't know what it will mean to another. As flawed human beings, we tend think the worst of others even when they extend kindness, and many of us even mistrust our God from time to time. We don’t think our lives are safe in any one's arms, or that He knows what we need.  Just like hugs, He won’t force anything on us.  How often do we miss out on the greatest experiences simply because of our fears; if I let them hug me, they may harm me. Or, our need to be in control; I can't trust anyone else with this, I can't show them my vulnerability... I can take care of it by myself.  We weren't created to do it by ourselves.   If someone offers you hug, accept it!  It just might be God in disguise, giving you what you need;  a reminder you are not an island, you are a part of the Universal family, and for that reason alone, you are loved beyond understanding.  

For one moment our lives met, our souls touched. - Oscar Wilde

Sydney Rebecca - Comic, Diva, Super Model and Sage.....Born on 2/21 at 2:21.

I have three spectacular little grand-daughters.  They are all bright, engaging, nice, and well-mannered, but beyond that their only similarities: 1.  They are all female  2. They have the same parents.  Each of them were born with different attitudes, characteristics and means of navigating their world.  I had one child, so I am fascinated by their individuality as well as watching the evolution from toddlers to little girls.   Despite the differences, there is a firm bond that cements their love and loyalty for one another.  Don’t get me wrong, they get angry, compete, fight, and  sometimes they’re just mean to each other.  They’re sisters, as well as little women with hormones that lie in wait..... Yet, when push comes to shove, each seeks out the wisdom and comfort in the other they find lacking in themselves.  Amazingly, they intuitively know which one to go to when they need a dose of a trait that's not one of their strengths.  I have written about Alex, the oldest, our kind, spiritual, careful, curious and intellectual one.  I wrote about Guru Cameron, our youngest, with her little OCD personality when it comes to order, routine, and cleanliness. Her easy-going, go with the flow nature is an example to the grown-ups surrounding her. I hadn't written about Sydney Rebecca, my little namesake, wanting to wait until her birthday. She's my go-to girl,  If I want an adventure, a good belly laugh, or a lesson in self-confidence. 

It certainly wasn’t my intent to write about my middle grand-daughter, last.   Don’t let her birth order lull you into thinking the psychology of middle child syndrome is at play here. No one would ever deign treat Sydney Rebecca as an afterthought, or minimize her importance to the world!  She’ll set you straight with a look that’ll make you feel foolish for being so out of touch with her divineness.  When asked what she wants to be when she grows up, she will tell you a dancer, a diva, and a super-model.  Don’t waste your breath explaining super models are generally quite tall. She’ll respond with a shrug of her shoulders and confidently retort, “ I’m going to be the first short super model.”   When she was born, I gasped and my first words were, “Oh, my gosh, this baby is absolutely beautiful.”  She was.  A tinier version of the Gerber Baby, all round, rosy, perfectly shaped, eyes wide open and alert.  At first breath, her little cry commanded attention.   Every bit of energy in that room, was directed towards her.  She turned heads as a baby, a toddler, a pre-schooler. Her magnetism is as powerful today. 

Guess who Mimi? Santa!

When she was very little, she had this air of entitlement. It was HER mom, HER dad, HER sister, HER toy, and HER time.  As she has grown older, she has learned to temper those overt demands by manipulating and playing the little coquette, drama queen, or comic;  whatever role she feels will work its magic in getting her way.  She’s very good at it too.  She can read people, at first meeting with a piercing vision that leaves you feeling naked and vulnerable.  You get the sense she knows you better than you know yourself.  She’s not adverse to using your weaknesses against you to get you to see her way of thinking either.  Before you know what hit you, you’re mesmerized, and find yourself dancing to her tune, joyfully becoming a part of her growing conga line of admirers!  Her intuitive nature isn’t always self serving.  She seems to know what you need, and has an innate ability to make you feel like the most important person in the world (right behind her of course)!  If you’re sad, she senses it.  Not only does she feel it, but diagnoses the cure appropriately with whatever you need; empathy, hugs and loving, or silliness and laughter.  She is the Queen Bee of funny faces and mime. 

Sydney always the Fashionesta!

A born leader, I watched a few years ago at the softball field as she drew a crowd of kids twice her age, leading them into some dare devilish adventure.  Most of the time she is the ring-leader in pursuing anything new and exciting;  the consummate CEO, engaging her team’s support in whatever endeavor she undertakes.   If it doesn’t interest her, she can cajole and delegate so adeptly, you are thrilled to be making her bed, or doing her homework for her just so you can be in her presence.  If it is something she is headstrong about pursuing, she doesn’t much care what the cost is, and accepts her punishment with the attitude it was worth the crime, and her time.  She seems untouched by discipline, and takes her licks and moves on reliving her forbidden adventure with a smile. 

Her tenacity is one of her greatest attributes.  The spirit of Winston Churchill lives on in Ms. Sydney, and she is inclined to never, ever quit.  This quality is especially inspiring when you witness "giving it her all" at basketball games.  She is an itty-bitty girl and her tiny stature borders on comical with most of the players towering over her.  But, she’s a little bull-dog when it comes to defense, nipping at the  the knee caps of her opponents.  The most joyful moment  I witnessed recently,  was an entire gym of spectators, crossing their fingers as her shot spiraled towards the basket in slow motion, swooshed through the net after approximately 100 determined trys.  The crowd rose and  roared.  She never gives up! 

Dancer, Diva,
Super Model

One of her favorite things to do is don dress up clothes and walk the red carpet, striking a pose.  She has the Art of THE WALK of  Miss America,  a Victoria Secret Angel, and Paris Fashion Week,  mastered.  She can do the parade wave and blow kisses without missing a beat.  Prancing in dance clothes from past performances, dripping in rhinestones, a marabou fur throw twisted around her shoulders, she’s an 8 year old Mae West.   She loves to dance as well, and has the gift of rhythm and flexibility.  Because of her natural ability, two years ago, she was asked to be a part of our local Competition Team representing her dance studio.  She declined because it would interfere with her Daisy meetings (Girl Scouts), basketball, and softball.  She wasn’t ready to commit to just one passion yet;  there are just too many other adventures to be had! One of her other hobbies is baking and her Great-Grandma M. has helped develop that skill. They have been known to make some incredible desserts and coffee pie is Sydney's specialty!  Look out Julia Child, this little mite has the  charisma to become the next cooking show diva - rather than those trademark pearls, it will be diamonds and stilettos!

International Spy

The depth of her interests and personality can be disarming.  Just about the time you think she is all fluff and self will run riot,  she blows you away with a new interest or says something profound.  Christmas this year, she wanted "spy stuff" as she might add "International Bond Girl" to her repertoire of career options.  She already seems to have a spiritual sense of who she is and where she came from. Recently, she informed her mom that when we die, we don’t really die.... we just come back again, as a different person, into a new life. Reincarnation.  Accusingly, her mother asked me if she had overheard some of my New Age conversations.  I assured her that I knew better than to discuss matters of that magnitude around Sydney.  We looked at each other in awe at the depth of this little child’s innate beliefs that touched on some enlightened truths! 

Exasperating at times when her willfulness runs amok, she's blessed to have two loving gardeners (her parents) who carefully cultivate those buds of fearlessness, while pruning away some of the impulsivity and kindly nurturing self confidence and high esteem. The term born leader is fitting.   Sydney Rebecca will be the teeny- tiny girl, from the small town, that made good.   She is simply blind to obstacles with a  20/20 vision for opportunity.  

Happy Birthday
my  beautiful, confident,
 little lady!

Sydney will be 8 years old in a few days.  Where has the time gone?  When she was a little girl, I was her passion.  She loved her Mimi intensely, and when she got into trouble, she howled for me to save her from the torture of discipline, routine, or structure. Today Sydney would tell you, we have a special connection- both of us sassy, adventurous, and total girly-girls.  She, as well as her sisters are my passion and heart's desire.  They show me the real meaning of starting anew, how to act silly, hug often,  explore, experience a new kind of enlightenment, love unconditionally, and dream big.... on their behalf..... and,  right along with them. 

Passion vs Love.......

Valentine's Day is upon us.  For some, its a day of romance; flowers, candy, lingerie and passion.  For others, its an evening of red flannel jammies, a large spoon and gourmet ice cream, Kleenex, and Bridges of Madison County.   Some years I've  spent Valentine’s Day pierced in ecstasy by Cupid's arrow. Others, you would find me hanging out in the front yard, a big neon bulls eye emblazoned on my chest, a sort of directional light, to help Cupid find me.  Our celebrations rarely measure up to how the media portrays this day of love. Some of the cornball commercials on television are purely a gag-fest. You know the ones... "I'm here... I'll love you forever.... Here is   half my heart.... You complete me..... I am nothing if not for you... "   Yuck!  Oddly, in retrospect, the warm PJ’s and ice cream haven’t been all that bad in comparison to some of the ghosts of Valentine's Day past. I personally think there has to be more to love and this Holiday than what's showcased in Victoria’s Secret, Hallmark, and Teleflora.  

So, I did a little research. 

The origins of Valentine’s Day are exceptionally beautiful. Their beginnings in both Christian and Roman tradition. I'm a sucker for ancient history- minus the lions in the  coliseum gig.  Legend spins several tales, specifically of St. Valentine, a martyred saint.  One story tells of Valentine’s bravery as he defied Emperor Claudius II, who proclaimed, single men made better soldiers than those with wives and families. Risking his own safety, Valentine secretly performed marriage ceremonies, to accommodate young lovers.   Another story, tells of a St. Valentine who attempted to help Christians escape harsh Roman prisons. Later, captured and imprisoned, he fell in love with his jailor’s daughter. This attentive, compassionate and beautiful young woman visited him during his confinement. Before his death, as a gift to her, it is believed he wrote a letter which he signed, “from your Valentine.” The first recorded Valentine greeting!

Sorting through the various tales, a solitary theme did arise.   Valentine’s day wasn’t necessarily a celebration of passion, romance, chocolates, or lace garter belts, although  there were some fertility ceremonies contained in some of the history.   Mostly, Valentine’s Day was a celebration of Love.  The kind of Love often disguised in sacrifice, justice, honor, service, and compassion. Love as a verb. The kind of Love that acts in ways and says, to others, I want you to know you are unique, special, and deserving. 

Passion is a potent aphrodisiac. We feel rapture as this powerful drug surges through our bodies.  The high is relatively short lived and not really a good marker of our true feelings for another. Jungian analyst , Robert Johnson, quotes, “The passion of romance is always directed at our own projections, our own expectations, our own fantasies.  It is a love, not of another person, but of ourselves.”  This wise analysis makes sense to me.  Awhile back, a dear, therapist friend asked me to examine whether I was really ever  in love with someone, or did I love the idea of that person.  At first, this made no sense to me, and I accused him of talking in circles. Months later, a light bulb went on. Was I in love with  this person?   Or,  was I passionate about all those expectations and fantasies that I had built around what I wanted him to be and my world to look like? Was I in love with the human being he was?  Did I even know that person, or was he just a reflection of my ego?

Enlightened Love, the kind St. Valentine is accredited with, is a kind of power that awakens us to the existence of something outside of ourselves, our own world, and security.  It is a transcendence of our own ego and a desire to connect with another, just as they are.  It's the kind of Love that's a salve to the wounds of the world. A recognition that it is far more rewarding to extend love, for Love's sake, than expect a return on our investment. Once we know that Love, and come to know its power, we  go to the ends of the earth to cultivate and share it.  Most of us  never really recognize it although it's inside of us and in front of us, always.   

We know passion; our egos  understand that well. It’s allure and thrill is exciting and makes for great storytelling. But, it pales in comparison to connecting in love.   This desire to move beyond our ego,  towards  a higher knowing and purer Love, is why we were created in the first place.   

Moving out of romance and our fantasies and expectations, to a place where we show Love to another, make their day, or let them know how important they are to this world, is a worthy intention for Valentine’s Day. We can make it a day of friendship, understanding, reaching out, and service as well.  

I sent a Valentine letter to a wonderful 91 year old man who recently lost his wife of 65 years. His storytelling of their time together would seriously make for a blockbuster movie. What an honor it was to have him share that with me.  He needs to know how much his wisdom and time have meant to me this past year.   I designed my own Valentine cards and sent personal notes to a few people who have touched my life recently, my contribution to the perpetuation of this beautiful gift of Love.  I’ll still probably curl up in the red jammies and sniffle over Bridges, but I know that’s just a part of the passion and allure of the Holiday, titillating and romancing my ego!  I'm just a new soul learning the ways of Love.  It will be a number of lifetimes before I am ready for sainthood.  

Happy Valentines Day..... From Your Valentine...... with Love! 

Late Bloomer......

I used to call myself a late bloomer. Usually with a shrug of the shoulders and a sheepish grin.  My self-deprecating humor is one of the defense mechanisms, I use to put myself in my place, so you don’t get a chance to. This self proclaimed moniker came about due to my perception of  the order which life should flow.  This is how it should be....You’re born and move into a childhood of protected fun as well as reading, writing, and arithmetic.  As  you grow, you gradually learn essential tools encouraging movement from childhood into young adulthood; skills like sharing, patience, obeying the rules, and manners.  You become a teenager, forget all the rules because you now know they are not meant for you!  You date, fall in love, date fall in love, and move on and go to College.  When you leave College,  you get your dream job. Time for Prince Charming or Kim Kardishian to arrive. You marry. You work hard, buy a house, make a name for yourself, and have children.  Life evolves and so do you.  You discover most of what you paid bucks to learn in College, is relatively useless in your life today.  Late middle-age, you begin to suffer a few losses;  grandparents, possibly parents, some friends and through these trials you develop character traits such as compassion, appreciation, gratitude and perhaps, a thirst for discovering the meaning of your existence develops.  Also called a mid-life crisis.  You finish raising your family, maybe change jobs to pursue your purpose and live out your days in ecstasy knowing your life has been normal, orderly, because you  have made good decisions and  followed the timeline of civilized society.  Right?  Perhaps.  At least this was my interpretation of how a life got to be named “a life well lived.”  I liked the flow of it.  Its practical evolution made sense to me.  Because it sounded so perfect, THAT  was my expectation.  My real life never seemed to measure up to standard. Those milestones and that story, just didn't play out that way for me.  

I’ve lived so much of my life in reverse.  I was an old lady at 8, the emotional burden of my highly dysfunctional family and their problems resting on my small shoulders.  I really believe I was born old, and wise, a female Benjamin Button.  I also, romanticized... the stork had an anxiety attack at my delivery, freaked out, and accidentally dropped me into the wrong household.  But, later, in my teenage years, I discovered I really was adopted, by one parent (ahha... my stork story was a reality). Until.... I met my blood parent and didn’t seem to fit there either! Since, I was already a grown-up at puberty, it seemed fitting to get married at 19.   By then my immediate family had all gone their separate ways through divorce and addiction.  I was already quite skilled at taking care of others and their needs.  Why not start my own family?  I did and became a super responsible young wife and mom. Yet, no matter how hard I tried to create the picket fence life, with my husband and little daughter, others in my story found the picket fence confining.  It was not to be. I was  left to raise a daughter at age 26. I was brighter than average, but with my education predominately centering around the emotional care of others, I was really left floundering.   I escaped for a time into the arms of oblivion and addiction.  It was cozy to be unconscious for awhile.  Repercussions began to arise and bad things happened.  I wasn’t such a good caretaker anymore. I didn’t even have a clue how to take care of myself.  Six years later I emerged, ill and emotionally battered,  but addiction free.... a newborn baby (me) cohabiting with an adolescent daughter.  The adolescent daughter became a teenage daughter and I dated  right along with her.  Losses weren't new to me either, the majority of them happening before I turned 34. That part of the story wasn't  supposed to happen until I began getting grey and wrinkly.  I grieved as I watched grandmothers, aunts, uncles, some friends, and my own mother pass on.  By 45, I had lost my beloved soul mate too and this  left me reeling.  Recognizing  I had exhausted the luxury of becoming unconscious in pills and booze to numb my pain,  I spun out of a 17 year, successful career, right into the seat of higher education. College...the old lady in the classroom.  Experimental job hopping followed as well as rather unfulfilling man hopping. This became the new life for this 50 something year old woman.  I was living the life of a young twenty-something!  Is it any wonder I called myself a late bloomer?  

This revisit to a few of the chapters in my life was prompted by my long recovery process during my recent illness.  When I get lonely, I've been known to visit a very busy head, one which swirls with liveliness and activity.  It isn't always the best place to hang out if you're looking for good, clean, fun.  I can get into some serious trouble there.  Especially when the potty mouthed  brain cells gather and start a rumble.  This "late bloomer" label resurfaced one boring day as I indulged in a mental walk through the memoir of my life and times.  This little self-serving (with a larger than healthy dose of self-pity) day dream was interrupted as I noticed, and shook my head in disbelief at the blossoms on my Hibiscus plant resting in my kitchen bay window.  It's a tenacious little sucker! Admiring it gave me a whole new perspective on late blooming.  


I've had this plant for five years.  We have a little history.  When I first got it, it was stunning; flawless, shiny leaves, profuse colorful blossoms, perfectly poised on long stems.  It didn't stay that way.  Through the years, the plant got brown and sickly looking, leaves falling off onto the window sill.  Often, the spindly, barren stems indicated its days were numbered.  Sometimes, I'd make a concerted effort to nurse it back to health.  Other times, in disgust, I just unkindly ignored it and secretly wished it would just naturally expire completely.  It never does!  This summer it was gorgeous, lush and full.  By Fall, it was inflicted with little white mites all over its leaves.   Fed up, I stuck the plant out in an unheated room in the house with the secret hope it would just freeze out and die.  Post holiday, I hadn't checked on it in weeks, I went out into the room and there it stood.... mite free, budding, getting ready to  burst into full bloom!  I couldn't believe it! It's never followed a predictable pattern of development.  It grows, becomes lovely, regresses, looks ugly, grows again only to become the prettiest plant, no matter how I take care of it.  It's not seasonal.  There is no pattern.  It just grows and blooms when its time to grow and bloom.  It has no idea whether it's Spring, Summer, Fall, or Winter of its little chlorophyll saturated life.  Pretty much like the progression of my life.  Perhaps we both have our seasons mixed up, or maybe our internal Source  guides our growth and progress based on our unique needs and contributions to this life.  

I’m not a late bloomer.  I’m kind of a perennial......... for all seasons.    

Our attempts at control and strictly ordering our life in a rigidly intentional manner, is relatively futile.  We have a destiny and a divine timeline that directs our soul towards a specific purpose. We are always right where we need to be, when we need to be. When we fight its flow or try so hard to swim upstream, when we get there, we often find we're exhausted and  it isn't what we anticipated anyway. The big picture is a puzzle. The discovery of what pieces fit and when they're placed doesn’t matter. Sometimes it's better and more fun to  take our time in figuring it out. Trying one after another, and re-trying later, after several others fall into place.   All that matters is that the puzzle will eventually come together in a sacred way.  Makes no difference that I was Yoda at 8, or that I went to College at 47.  It doesn’t matter that I was an overly responsible wife and mother at 19, then dated along with my teenage daughter at 34.  It's irrelevant that I finally found my soul mate at 38.  In my 50’s, I’ve jumped out of an airplane, savored a "sans clothing" spa, and flirted shamelessly with a cruise ship Captain, twenty years my junior.  Now, in my late 50’s, I'm  the inquisitive 5 year old driving my Higher Power crazy with my incessant why, why, why questioning. 

We all come from the same divine seed.  We push outward, we bud, we grow; tall and strong.  We bloom. We’re exposed to the elements, lose our leaves, shrivel and take cover underground for a time.  Somehow the soil gets  fertilized again, with hope; with new knowledge.  We catch a glimpse of the light and the warmth of our Creator. We timidly venture upward and outward, over and over again. We reach out,  a burning desire to, perhaps, pursue something we missed earlier on.  It’s taken all of our experiences, in no particular order, to create the beautiful, individual blooms of our unique life.   It’s the mites, the brown leaves, the cold air, and the dormancy that makes the blossoming so much lovelier, no matter how many years the plant has been around. 

Don’t worry about what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive. - Robert Thurman