Another Book Topic

Last night’s meditation led me on another interesting journey … as happens often. I was left feeling I need to put these meditation-inspired ramblings into a book and call it “Conversations within Myself.” (The writing muse has me by the throat. All I want to do is write!)

These meditations offer insight into life. I’m shown different sides of situations while allowing my mind to develop, transform, solidify, question preconceived beliefs, or assimilate some form of teaching. I think about what I think about and how I think about it. (OK, I’ll admit to overthinking ... or maybe I’m just not afraid to admit.)

Words and thoughts constantly run through my mind. I’m always thinking, from the moment I wake in the morning until I fall asleep at night. (Sometimes when I wake in the night, too.) Often, it’s just daydreaming drivel, but other times, a topic grabs hold of me and I’m taken on an interesting journey; at times controversial and other times enlightening.

A comment gets made or I read something that sends my mind spinning off on a winding path. There’s no one true answer as the trail leads down, in, around, among, up, out. Thoughts jump one to another; sometimes not in a logical sense of order. Words gush from above, while others stir up out of my soul and heart. I never know when it will stop. Suddenly, the flow shuts off, and I feel breathless, emotionally flattened, unfinished, like there’s more, but my brain won’t take any more at this moment.

Nothing is conclusive. I’m left in wonder. But I also feel the topics that come to me need to be brought to the light. It’s not that I expect everyone to believe what I say. They don’t have to. Sometimes what I write is what others think but can’t put into words. Sometimes it’s just my ramblings.

Whatever it is, I’ve gained a little more understanding of life, and even if I’m left with more questions, there’s still a feeling of accomplishment.

Attempting to Maintain My Cool

Today it hit me that this coming Thursday is my next dentist’s appointment and I have all I can do to keep from freaking out and calling to cancel. This appointment is the first of four in the series of cleaning. We decided to break it up into the four quadrants because it is so difficult for me.

He says I have a little bone loss in left front and the tooth to the side and the deep cleaning is necessary to prevent any more bone loss and save the rest of my teeth. I can’t even begin to describe how I feel about this. My teeth are so sensitive! I’d almost rather have a toe amputated than have anyone put sharp pointy objects in my mouth.

All my training in various techniques fall by the wayside when it comes to the dentist. I am attempting to talk about it more to, hopefully, exorcise these deep rooted (pun intended) issues so I can get on with it.

But I will get through this!

Daring Greatly

I recently finished a third book by Brene Brown. This one was called “Daring Greatly.” Brown got the inspiration for the title from part a speech made by Theodore Roosevelt in 1910:

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done better.

“The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face I marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming; 

“but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly…” 

Brown’s years of research and teachings give hope and understanding to our lives as human beings. Her books have come into my life at a time when I’ve been doing a lot of my own soul-searching and self-study. I am often amazed how she’ll make a point exactly along the lines of my own thinking. I feel her words have helped validate who I am and that I can BE proud of who I am (just like years ago when Julia Cameron of “The Artists’ Way” fame gave me permission to be an artist) – not that I really needed anyone’s permission, but it opened the door. 

One of Brown’s biggest teachings is that by talking we find we are not alone. This is a practice that I’ve been working on for a long time. As human beings, we are connected, and we need that connectedness to maintain humanity. I agree with Brown that in sharing our stories, we can help inspire each another. We share ideas and life stories and find connection. I’ve often felt alone in my feelings or a situation, but the moment I mention it, I find others, too, have similar experiences. This is how we belong and belonging is one of the most primordial desires in us.

Anyway, I highly recommend Brown’s books. Look her up on the web and you can even watch TED Talk videos of her. Or, go to amazon.com and purchase her books. You won’t be sorry. She’s done work with women and men in all professions and she’s been a great help to our veterans struggling to return to civilian life.

I didn’t put the title of my writing in quotations because my point here just isn’t about Brown’s book, but in the act of daring greatly. Going back over Roosevelt’s speech, I feel I’ve been in the arena. My face is “marred by dust and sweat and blood.” I’ve stumbled and erred and come up short time and time again. There’s something comforting in knowing that when I fail, I, at least “fail while daring greatly.” 

I finished the reading and felt compelled to make a list of how I dare greatly. This is what I’ve come up with:

I dare greatly when:

• I go on trips alone
• I am the first to speak to others
• I delve into my own feelings to better understand myself
• I say with passion, “This is who I am!”
• I go against the norm (in the past I’ve always felt like there was something wrong with me because I never wanted to do what everyone else was doing, wearing, watching, reading, etc.)
• I choose to be different and like myself for it
• I talk about myself, admit my fears
• I say I don’t know … when I don’t know
• I admit there are things I can’t do anymore 
• I have to ask for help
• I choose to be the authentic me
• I leave the house and have to interact with others (believe it or not, that’s always been a struggle)
• I put my work – writing, photography, drawings – out there for others to see
• I admit my struggles and vulnerability

Think about how you dare greatly. What would be on your list?

More on Acknowledging Others

Again I am on a subject that can go off in many directions. There are ifs, ands, and buts. There’s cause and effect. After all, nothing is truly just black and white. But I believe this is an important subject to discuss as I consider my attitude towards others. (And I can be as guilty as the next guy for not always being nice to others.) I am trying to understand within myself as I strive to be a better person, and I hope by talking about these subjects, it might help all of us be more aware of our actions.

One of my visions of good customer service is an old Texaco (I think) sign with a smiling service attendant waving his hand in greeting. Remember when someone would come fill your gas tank and wash your windows?  I picture helpful store clerks; people who remember their customers’ names and sometimes what they previously bought. And customers would know the clerks’ names and ask about their families.

I occasionally see that still, at Aubuchon, Edmunds, and Agway. Last year I had thanked the tellers at the bank for being friendly. They greet me by name and ask how the home renovations are going. Kate said the corporate office is trying to get them to be less friendly with their customers. How sad is that!

I asked Bob and Jane at breakfast how they have seen change in store clerks’ service since the 1950s and ‘60s. Bob said those good customer service traits were inherent in most people, taught at an early age at home and in schools. 

I remember my first jobs where I was instructed on what to wear to put on a better appearance for customers, and how to greet and interact with them. Back then we’d get in trouble if we didn’t follow protocol. We had to greet customers with a smile and act eager to help them. And in my always wanting to do a good job, I followed those dictates.

This led to more discussion on what kids are being taught today about life after school. What careers are they pursuing and is the goal for higher education herding too many into careers for which the job market is limited or the personality or ability of the students are not right for those goals? Is so much emphasis placed on marketing strategies for big business or high-tech careers, and, those include the professions of doctor, lawyer, teacher, and nurse, that other much-needed, lower-paying jobs are seen as less-than?

What about people in trades like electricians, plumbers, builders, construction workers, etc.? I know some schools have programs like building trades, but is any real emphasis placed on this or are these programs just geared for kids “not smart enough” to go to a real college? Are kids who are smart enough or can afford it who go to universities looked at with more respect than those who go to a trade school or who don’t go on to higher education?

Yet, how could a community run without the trades? Where would we be without store clerks and post office, police, fire, and highway department personnel? What about town clerks and even the tax collector? Does the amount of salary a person earns determine how they should be treated?

That’s an astounding no for most people, and yet, how do we look at people who make lower salaries? Is what we say how we act? After all, we’ve had it drilled into us for years how important it is for higher education and how those with degrees and such are so much better off.

What about those people out there working two or three jobs to make ends meet? And if we are seeing these people as less-than, how does that make them feel? We go into a store and get what we need in a hurry to get out and go on with our life. Do we ever LOOK at the person at the cash register or the one bagging? Do we ever compliment a bank teller on how nice she looks today? Do we personally thank a policeman or fireman for the jobs they do?

I could go on and on and go off on little side tangents, but what I’m trying to do is to bring more awareness to individuals, to PEOPLE, a person; not the company, department, or corporation, not the “team” --- (I hate that term unless it’s a sports team). Yes, team-work is important to make any business a success, but it’s still about the individuals.

We may not be able to change the “corporate” atmospheres, especially when many headquarters aren’t even in this state, let alone area. CEOs seldom know their employees. What we can do, is work on a community level to let those people in our restaurants, stores, offices, town departments, etc. know it’s not their salaries that matter to us; we appreciate them for the service they provide to the community. 

Anyway, I am determined to change how I’m treating people. I want to treat each person as an individual. I want to know them so that the next time I’m in the store or wherever, I’ll remember (probably not their name, ha ha, as I’m at that age where I forget names). I want them to know that I appreciate the help they give me.

I will do my best, but it’s also a two-way street. I know for the most part, that if I’m friendly to others, they will be friendly to me. That’s not a guarantee. There are some people who … well, they are who they are. As I person trying to live an authentic, whole-hearted life, I do care about people and I’m interested in knowing why people are the way they are. I often wish I could sit down with each one to find out why they aren’t happy. But that’s another story for another day.

Grieving for Christmases Past

I’ve been an emotional wreck these past three days. For three days, I’ve spent the mornings dissolved in tears; my heart ripped open bleeding more tears into my soul, and my head pounding from the stress. 

I’ve struggled with the holidays since my mother’s passing in 2011, but this year it sneaked up on me. I thought I was OK. This is my second holiday season in a house that does not have memories of her (except for her picture which I keep close by where she can watch me working). I have a lot going on and I keep happily busy.

Thanksgiving morning it hit me as I wondered if my sons would call to wish me a happy day. I’m usually the one to call them first, but on holidays, I would like them to call me. My oldest messaged to wish me a happy day and somehow that set me to thinking about past holidays and how, since my mother passed away, I choose to isolate.

Today it dawned on me that my vision of Christmas morning is of our house in Kensington with the tree in front of the picture window and sparkly garland tacked around the main living spaces. Presents (we always went overboard at Christmas) would extend from under the tree, to in front of the TV and fireplace, into corners of the living room. I picture my dad standing tall in his green, black, and white plaid flannel shirt, my brother and his wife, and the aunts and uncles. Mum and I would be in the kitchen getting dinner ready; the aromas of roasting turkey and various vegetables and more wafting through the house. And my sons would show up with wives and grandkids. 

Christmas was basically the same year after year – it was Christmas. It had been that way since I was young and Don and I were the only kids. But changes came as changes do. The older people started leaving one by one. My mum and I tried to carry on, but others wanted their own Christmas celebrations at their own homes on Christmas day. Yes, we were invited, but mum was stubborn and would not leave the house and I guess I’ve picked up that same trait.

So, five years after my mother’s passing, I realize I’m not just grieving losing her (and having her pass on Christmas Day!), I’m grieving for all our Christmases past ... because they can never be the same. I have total respect for other family members making their own choices. I certainly make my choices and stand by them. 

There’s no going back. New Christmas memories need to be made and while I may still choose to be alone Christmas day, today I have a better understanding of the grief encompassing me around the holidays. I’m getting better. 

A Holiday Revelation and Yet Another Issue to Work On

After five years since my mother’s passing, and more, really because there were the years of decline, the holidays are still tough for me. I’ve been blaming it on my mother’s passing, but wait ... it really started when both my sons decided they (and their families) would stay at their own homes for the holidays. They have every right to do so and I allow them their choices. I understand and can see things from their stand point. I know they love us (me, now).

Then when my brother and his wife also decided not to come any more, Mum and I settled into our “alone” holidays. Ma refused to go out, although we might have gone once or twice to Don’s for Thanksgiving, but Christmases were just the two of us. We stopped buying presents. Today I am realizing how much that still hurts; and how MUCH it hurts!

I’ve occasionally talked about this in past – a little. I’ve never told any of them how much it hurt and how much it hurts me still. Ma never talked about it at all. Maybe it hurt her more than she ever let on, and more and more she’d just sit in her rocking chair locked in her own thoughts. After all, Christmas, especially, was her favorite holiday and she so loved buying presents for everyone and having everyone come to the house. She lived to have a house full of family. Suddenly having the holiday day just being the two of us must have been more traumatic for her than I ever realized.

Maybe it’s time to start talking ... except I can’t without tears. Every year the season is full of tears. And I CHOOSE to stay alone.

I’ve been afraid. If I start to talk about how I feel, it will all come down to being my fault. I’m afraid that they will start pointing out all the things that I did wrong and where I was/am lacking as a mother and grandmother. I’m afraid that somewhere along the way I’ve hurt them. How can I ever fix that? How can I ever know that I didn’t do anything wrong? At least I don’t think I did. But I’ve always had to be true to my authentic self.

I have mentioned the poor mother/grandmother aspect before, but not so much about the holiday issue. I just kept telling myself that they all have the right to celebrate holidays as they see fit (and they do). I still love them no matter what. Maybe it’s only in my mind that there are issues.

This is something to work on during this season. I have to be gentle and loving with myself, as I am with others, and work on better understanding why I feel as I do. I thought I had this behind me, but evidently there’s more I need to resolve within myself.

The work goes on. I am Enough! I am getting better! I am a good, loving person!

  

Snake Oil Salesmen and Charmers

I am strong, yet I am vulnerable. When I get hurt, I run and hide. I protect the who-I-am by keeping it safe from the world. I am strong inside, but is the who-I-am too thin-skinned to let out in public? 

Last night’s reading on living authentically and wholeheartedly triggered remembrances of years ago. Wait! I’d worked on this before. What happened between then and now? When did I fall off the spiritual/self-healing path I’d been on for 20 years? Let me think… there’s a huge gap in my spiritual work between living in Barrington and in Hillsborough where I live now – the Bradford years.

Something happened in Bradford that caused me to turn away from all that I’d worked towards. I spent time last night looking back and I found it. I can’t remember the exact details, but I remember the incident and what led up to it. I remember the pain, the betrayal, and the subsequent turning away. 

People today know me as a writer, editor, photographer, and artist, but how many know I was a healer; a darn good healer? And I was working at becoming even better. A few of us were developing a healers’ group. He was a charmer and talked the good talk, but ultimately, he was a full-of-himself snake. (He was so good he even had my mother duped and she didn’t go in for any of this healing stuff!) Friendships were destroyed and the Light that we had developed between us was snuffed out.

The end result was I walked away; never read another book on healing, never talked about it, stopped playing my flutes and drums, stopped doing Tai Chi, and only did one or two massages  afterwards, eventually even giving that up. My good-sized self-help/healing library got thrown in the dumpster along with the massage oils and I sold the massage table. I turned my focus totally to my other talents. I stopped learning, stopped wanting to learn, unless it was about work.

I loved living in Bradford, but for that one incidence. I gave up on my spirituality and locked it away, hiding it, and not acknowledging it. And perhaps that was one reason why the last few years with my mom was so hard. I didn’t use my spiritualness to help me when I needed it most, when she needed me to be strong. (I’m sorry, Mom.) 

It was very hard for me to move to Hillsborough, however I have become spiritual again thanks to Annette Vogel who gave me “Wishes Fulfilled” by Dr. Wayne Dyer. I’ve never been a Dyer fan, but had to read the book because she gave it to me. 

That book… I guess you could say, woke me up again. Not that I believe everything he said (I read a book or watch a TV program and can find something that will help me… like searching through the weeds to find a rose and I certainly found plenty of roses. Then, a guy told me about Brene Brown and I got three of her books: “I Thought It Was Just Me But It Wasn’t,” “The Gifts of Imperfection,” and “Greatly Daring.” (I haven’t read the latter yet.) And Annette told me about “The Courage to be Creative” by Doreen Virtue which is an awesome book!

So now, I am back on my path and that fills me with such joy. I feel I am learning something new every day and it’s exciting.

Oh, and about snake oil salesmen and charmers? Read the headlines. Listen to the news. Commercials and ads are all snake oil salesmen. Be careful who and what you listen to and support. Be vigilant! Don’t get caught up in someone’s charisma and charm and buy into their pretty words.

As a writer and word person, I know the power of words. Do NOT go by what you are being told, but check the real facts about everyone and everything they say (or what the media says they say). Look at your politicians as people, not what’s coming out of their mouths! Will they live up to their promises or are the just selling the public? Are they parroting what someone else wrote for them? Are they selling the public what whoever paid for their campaign dictates? 

They are all snake charmers weaving their charms to hypnotize and brainwash. Or they’re creating so much nastiness which is addictive to many people. Is this really what you want imprinted in your souls?

Think about it. I’ve learned my lessons with snake oil salesmen.

Moving Forward with My Creative Life

Last night I got out markers and 3X5 colored index cards and while watching TV, I wrote up some new affirmation cards based on the reading done earlier. (See the July 31 posting). I place these cards around the house to put in my face what I want to hear. And I decided that I should read these cards aloud every day, at least once.

One of the sayings that really struck me was “Think ONLY thoughts of love and success and that’s what I’ll get.” I repeated the words “love and success” over and over throughout the night; every time my thoughts started to spiral downward. I included the words in my gratitude prayers at bedtime and I repeated them when I got up during the night, and I was able to fall back to sleep quickly without mulling over negative thoughts. 

I began the love and success mantra again upon waking and getting ready for the day. I project love and success outward and take in love and success returning. I feel better today (mentally) than I have for awhile. I’m not allowing myself to get stressed.

I was even able to journal about yesterday’s issues with objectivity and I began planning where I intend to go from here. My art career has been on hold for over a year as I’ve been distracted by the house, garden, and getting to know my new community. Time is flying by. When am I going to get back to doing my real art?

It dawned on me that I’ve been spending too much time on Facebook. Those seconds or minutes it takes to read and respond add up and take up a lot of time; time I could be doing something more constructive, and now that my studio is cleaner, I am eager to get to the easel and begin drawing again.

“My creative passion is so strong I don’t want to do anything else.” What an awesome statement. But what IS my creative passion at this point? When was the last time I felt that? Distractions and other projects have taken over my life. I am pleased with how I’ve Sasha-fied my house and the flower gardens and yard are looking amazing and while there are creative endeavors there, that’s not my true passion.

I am a writer foremost and that’s a driving force, but there are different kinds of writing. I write stories for the newspaper, I write up interviews, and I put together and write a weekly column. I write letters and emails. The editing and calendar work with the newspaper also has to do with words. Half the time when I’m talking to people now I am thinking that would be a great story.

“My work must be a natural extension of myself.” The type of writing mentioned above, while I enjoy it, is not the passion of my personal writing; when I write for me. The writing above has to be done without emotion. My writing passion is all on an emotional level. Feelings drive me. The emotions behind thought patterns drive me. My goal through my writing is not only for self-healing, but that perhaps some of what I experience may help others, too.

When was the last time I had one of those emotional, creative, in-flow of words that pour out onto the page? March or was it February, and then it was just a couple of days. What about finishing the two in-process books? The distractions of the house and other work blocked that spontaneous creative flow along with the stress that rose within.

I have kept to photography by participating in a photo-a-day project which keeps me using the camera. Plus I’ve been taking pictures of the gardens and house as I make changes. But still, these are not photography as art. I haven’t used the photo printers in almost a year (and that means I’ll probably have to replace all the ink cartridges – well over $100 for all).

And there’s the drawing. I now have space at the easel and every day when I’m on my air walker I’m looking at the half finished piece taped to the drawing board. There’s a strong desire to draw, but where am I going with it? What do I want to do; where do I want it to go? Will it sit in the back room in a foam wrapper? Will I just hang it on my walls? 

But I have to do art! I have to.

So while some of the verdict as to my art direction is still wavering a bit, I am feeling more confident in what I want to do. And what’s funny is that it is always what I want to do. Sometimes I just let those distractions distract me.

Sink Holes

My apologies for not writing lately, May has proved to be a tough month, and just as I thought I was through it, I was hit with a double whammy. Arrghhhh! Such as it is, and part of it is my own fault for letting myself get so overwhelmed that I don’t think straight. 

I feel I’m pussy-footing around; afraid that something else will go wrong. That’s not a good place. I’m feeling good at the moment, but the way things have been lately, I don’t trust the good feeling.

It’s a bit of a set-back after all the work I’ve been doing with manifesting and all. “Bit” is too kind; it’s more like being slammed to the ground then stomped on. The road lately has had big sink holes and I don’t see them until I’ve fallen in. I thought I was beyond that.

I want to believe in Wayne Dyer. I want to believe in the ability to manifest. I wanted to prove my past wrong.

But the universe likes to throw curve balls with a “let’s see how you’ve learned all those lessons you’ve bragged about.” Yep, I got caught in the trap. I didn’t pay attention and fell on my face again.

I’ve never been the type to visualize goals and have them come true. I’ve always found goal-setting to be a disappointment; it just doesn’t work for me. There have been many times when I’ve put an intent out there, but if I dwell on it, it never comes true. It seems I just have to throw the wishes out there and whatever one come true, is a welcome, joyful surprise.

Am I giving up on Dyer and manifesting? I don’t want to. Some of what he preached is true and I totally believe. Maybe I just haven’t worked everything out yet. Everyone says to take baby steps and I do, but like a baby, I am easily distracted by a pretty bauble and I wander off the path, and as usual, I got distracted by work, home renovation, and other things.

Maybe it IS just because Mercury is in retrograde that this has been a crappy month. And not that all has been crappy, just the bad happens to overshadow the good at the moment and leaves me feeling like an old, wet, dirty dish rag wrung out and left to rot. Hey, May is supposed to be a pretty, happy month.

The extra work during the month of May, the Summer Guide, is done and I managed to clean up stragglers in work and straighten out things. Now I can get back to normal… if ever I can be normal. I look forward to June with hope. 

I bought lots of bright, colorful flowers the other day to reward myself for getting through May. Of course, now I have to figure out what to do with them. They bring such joy. I have to decide which to put in containers and which will line my yet-to-be-built walkway to the front door. 

Crawling out of the latest sink hole, I pause to brush myself off. Perhaps in time, I will understand what I went through. I’m already getting clues. I let the focus of work overshadow joy and I got so overwhelmed that I forgot how much I love my work. I forgot that everything does work out and I tried to force things to move faster. I didn’t take meditative breaks and my mind short circuited.

Now, I remember to breathe. I realize that I made the work a lot harder than it needed to be. I took lots of notes for next year. I will do it better! 

And yes, I will also get back to the self-work and the exploration of my wandering mind.

A Brief Exploration of Grief

I start my morning pages and the subject of grief permeates my thoughts. Yes, it’s Mother’s Day, and I miss my mum so much, but that’s not what today’s subject is about – not totally.

This is also a continuation of yesterday’s “Chasing the High.” Questions arise. What is the opposite of that high? Is it grief? Grief over what? I let my mind sink into the topic. What makes people unhappy? And when they are unhappy most of the time and the deep-down unhappiness outweighs the good times, what then? Does it turn into grief and the grief turns into frustration and anger and then people need to medicate to feel good?

It does seem like this is a trend and what makes it harder, and the worst, is that most people can’t talk about it. Oh, they might gripe and groan over a situation, but they seldom let themselves admit fully how they feel. They let off steam, but bottle up the true turmoil until there is an explosion or they break down and turn to other ways to numb the pain.

 They can’t talk about it because they can’t really identify what it is. And that’s because it’s emotional; it’s that stuff we bury inside, we hide, and while there are similarities in us, emotions can be very individual.  

Where does the grief come from? Fear is the major base of negativity. What do we fear? That we won’t get chosen for the team? That others won’t like us? That the thing we want most, we can never have? The list can go on and on, some items could turn up on everyone’s list, however, the disappointments pile up. Disappointment on disappointment and we strive harder after that proverbial carrot.

Even those who seem popular suffer the same fears. Celebrities will occasionally talk about stage fright, but for the most part, everyone will try to put on a “public face” for the outside world. They bottle up their fears and frustrations and after time, those feeling will either erupt in an angry outburst or they will fester, turn sour, and become grief for all the things they could never have, never accomplish, never become. Inside becomes one big pit of despair with occasional moments or a high depending on each person’s life.

Again, I feel I am just touching the outside edges of the situation. Emotions are so interwoven with the fabric of life. It’s what makes us human and it’s what makes it so hard to understand. We, as humans, are also interwoven and yet, we are individuals. We are not cookie cutter (to use the popular term).  

So what does this mean? The challenge can seem insurmountable. I know I am developing my own way of dealing with issues. I listen to people’s stories. I tell my own stories. There is a connectedness within this fabric of life and I believe the answers lie there. Not one single answer, but perhaps more the tools we need to help us be whole and balanced. 

I truly believe that the more we can talk, the more we heal, and in the talking and healing, we are not only healing ourselves, but we are helping others heal, too. This doesn’t mean we can go and talk to just anyone. We need to find those we feel safe with to talk about issues. 

I don’t know why I know what I do, but these concepts have been building in me for a long time. Maybe it’s because I’ve been studying life for a long time. I’m just going about it in an untraditional method – because I no longer trust the commercialized, conventional ways (which is another entirely different subject).

And again, I’m just touching on topics. I can’t even begin to wrap my mind around the entire issue. Perhaps this is stuff that can only be taken in bits and pieces. I’m learning. I remember a conversation, read something, or see something and my mind mulls on it and I have to interpret it into my language. This might be a key. Something is said and I don’t have to do it exactly as the next person, but I can take the concept and make it fit who I am.

Think about it. What do you grieve and what have you done to heal it?

Mining the Inner Artifacts

This morning I’m continuing yesterday’s thread on self-archeology. Yesterday saw me digging up ancient carvings in my inner well; those old aspects and labels of myself that I buried for many years. Those issues occasionally rear an ugly head to stir my emotions and remind me of my insecurities. Is there any truth to them? 

I pulled a couple relics from the muck. As I line them up on the shelf, I consider what names they have; what labels I have/had. I start to clean off the dirt. Does this label fit me now? Did it ever really work for me or was it something that I got stuck with and is something that never felt true (I only felt it was true because that’s what others said or I believed). 

I thought about the physical downsizing I did these past couple of years and especially last year when I bought a much smaller house. Going through items I’ve had in my possession for a long time was not easy (yes, there’s still more to go through). Do I hang onto something just because I’ve had it for years? Do I keep it because it’s been in the family or it was given to me by someone special to me? How many things can I save if they are not usable for me now?

As I work with the relic analogy this morning, I am reminded how digging these old half-carved images out of my inner well is similar to the physical downsizing of my house. What image-label am I holding onto like a family heirloom because a family member gave me that label when I was young? What purpose is it serving if that label is not who I am? What about the relic-label that I buried because I was ashamed of it? What purpose does that serve? 

Think about all those relics I’ve been burying for years. They sink in the mud and are further hidden by more half-carved stones. Some rot, some fall apart, and some distort with age. Do they serve a purpose for me now or do they just clutter up my being and hinder my growth?

These recent years were creating who I am/want to be. But maybe I’m not creating something new or maybe I don’t need to create something new. What if all I need to do is to clean out the old relics and get rid of ones that do not suit me and are not me? What if, in digging these out and seeing actually what they are, I can let them go if they are not who I am? What if, in the cleaning out of all the junk and clutter, I am freed up to be truly me – the person I’ve always been on the inside, but couldn’t access because of all the crap I’ve buried?

I feel much freer living in a physical house that is less cluttered. Imagine how I could mentally feel if my inner me is less cluttered?

It’s time to get the cleaning rags out to see which relics are still good and which ones I can put to the curb.

Below is a poem I wrote many years ago. It goes to show, there was a part of me already working on this… but I stopped for awhile. Time to get out those cleaning tools again.

Cleaning Day in the Well

On the inside of my soul lies a darkened place

and stuck in an unused corner like burnt cheese

 is … something… possibly sinister…

I can’t tell for sure

It’s been covered over so many times 

that I’ve forgotten much of what I buried 

and I don’t know what has oozed 

into the hidden recesses of my being

 to rot and grow hard

But I have this handy dandy scraper now, 

a plastic little thing that won’t scar the sides 

(came with a George Foreman grill 

my ex gave me years ago and I no longer use)

So down there I go 

with my handy dandy scraper and cleaning rags 

I pick and scrub with care 

wipe away the grime and the dust and the char

to reveal… a mirror!

With gentle strokes, I wipe the surface clean then, 

with a silent bang

 light reflects in the shine and I am no longer in the dark

I am bathed in glorious sunlight and all is revealed

Yea-yah

--Sasha Wolfe

Changing Images

Half-carved stone sculptures lie buried within, some bigger than others. I periodically dig in the muck and pull the cloth off one to continue the work. After all these years, they are still chunks of stone although the hint of the original shape has become more refined. After all these years, I’m still defining who I am. After all these years, I am defining who I am and not by someone else’s standards. 

I take a small pick and chip away one more piece. However, before I can start chiseling detail, I am distracted by a more important project. Over sixty years and I’m still a work in process as I slowly sculpt my ultimate masterpiece one small chink at a time.

This was the image that came to me as I am working on my latest journey into the self. I see my issues as half-formed stone sculptures. But wait! The stone will turn to polished marble when done. Oh, that’s an image for me, ha ha – not! I am not polished stone. I may be slowly carving more detail, but I will never be “polished.” 

That’s not a self put-down. It’s who I am. I am not an elegant, refined lady. I am the solid, grounded, well-rounded, well-meaning friend. I AM a rock; like the rough stones I pick up and save because I see beauty in the stone. 

I am the jagged edges of amethyst, the crevices that gather dust and sand. I am the holes in pumice and, at time, I have the clarity of a clear quartz crystal. I am the healing of citrine and the grounding of obsidian. I have the love of life and nature of rose quartz and, like granite I’m made up of many things.

But let’s go back to the stone sculptures. Maybe they are marble inside or alabaster or maybe I am just a hunk of New Hampshire granite. It doesn’t matter. What matters is the work; the art of carving. Perhaps it’s time to name these chunks of unfinished stone.

I was doing more reading last night on shame and guilt. I am learning there’s a definite difference between the two. Brene Brown defines shame as something we feel and guilt as something we’ve done. I’m to the point where it’s time to start looking closer at this and deciding which might be shame or which is guilt. Bringing these issues to the light will help them release where they will no longer have hold on me.

It’s a huge subject and I’m looking at my life differently than I have previously. It’s taking some changing of old concepts and it’s also opening doors which have been slammed shut; which some are so buried that I have to get in there with a shovel to dig it out just to get to the door. And that brought me to those half-carved stone sculpture images that I found buried in the muck.

Oh, and here continues that saga of how I feel I am on a treasure hunt on this journey to understanding the self. I’m an archeologist into myself and those stone half-carvings are the finding of ancient treasure. If I can hold it up to the light and learn its curves and holds…

Oh, oh, oh – revelation! I started today’s writing with the images of having to carve individual sculptures, but that’s not exactly true. The only true image I am carving is ME! Those stones I find in the muck are more like buried ancient relics. These relics buried within are allowing me to discover the true me. I refuse to be defined by society, stereotypes, and the media. 

Revealing those relics is like finding the right carving tool to better define me; define me by my standards, through my story, where I can stand up with confidence and shout, “This is who I am!” And know it for the truth.

To Be ME, I Can’t Live Up To Others’ Expectations

I am continuing my self-work on shame. I have just barely scratched the surface. Shame is the skeleton-in-the-closet, the thing no one wants to discuss. It can be embarrassing for the person talking about it and for the one listening. But if it isn’t talked about and brought to the light, it remains shame. I intend to change that. After all, what do I really have to be ashamed about?

Brene Brown’s book “I Thought It Was Just Me (But It Wasn’t)” is helping me access and understand some of the issues. I realize that most of my life has been a battle to live up to what was expected, wanted, and perceived of me. There is the constant inner battle because many those beliefs were not who I felt I was inside. And, for some reason, I believed that everyone else knew better – which meant, I was wrong, am wrong.

This morning I am contemplating my shame triggers; the things said to me, what I have read, what I’ve been taught, what the media has pounded into me, what I learned to believe – everything that has ever made me feel not worthy. If I can list these things, then I can look at them and let them go.

(Here is my analogy of the inner well where stuff has been buried for years. Sometimes it’s necessary to stir around in the muck. Bringing issues to the light will allow them to release.)

How have I felt shame because I think I don’t live up to what others think of me? That’s what a lot of it is about. What others think of me. That wanting to be accepted and thinking I’ve failed because I’ve not been the person I THINK they want me to be. 

Think about what this statement says: I feel shame because I THINK I don’t live up to what I think others THINK I should be. Is that a true statement? 

The biggest issue about this subject is because people are afraid to talk about it. Oh, we might make a comment in passing, but it’s quickly brushed off. I’m determined to wend my way through this maze of the journey of my self. So often I find when I do take the courage to admit to a so-believed failure, I discover that others also feel the same. We are not alone. We have all experienced some kind of not being good enough.

So, will I start my list? Maybe not today, but just talking about it has me thinking. It’ll come. This is already making a huge step in helping me be OK and satisfied with who I am. And, as always, I hope that my discussions will help others, too.

Thank you.

What The Muse Mean to Me

For the second morning in a row, I pay attention to The Muse right off the bat before I finish my journaling. She used to come more at the end of my journaling, after I wrote about the day before. The writing often seems to call her. I usually have to siphon off stuff (I love the word “stuff,” it covers so much) from the day before to allow new inspiration. Now yesterday and today, she is at the forefront. (And, for me, The Muse always is feminine.)

I try to settle into routine, but she won’t let me and I learned a long time ago if I don’t pay immediate attention, she disappears. When she arrives, she is screaming, “Pay attention NOW!” A thought this morning as she grabs my attentions is “Am I spoiling her?” That was immediately followed by “Or I am totally honoring her?”

I believe it is honor and respect; two most important virtues. If this higher power Muse honors me with her presence, then I darn well better give her the respect she deserves. After all, why should I think she is here only for me? Maybe she mentors others. She needs my full attention when she is here and the information pours into me faster than my brain can process or my hand write or fingers type. That’s a challenge, for sure.

But what does this mean? What does this Muse mean to me and how does it work?

Mostly, when people think about “revelations” or God-inspired, higher power messages, there is a coming down from above feel. And I feel that. However, it’s not just a flowing down and into me feel, and it’s not just coming into my head. These feelings reach my heart and mix with who I am… or is it my heart rising to meet the inflow? (Be gentle with me. This is the first time I’m actually writing about it on this level.) 

What I do know is that I feel it in my entire being. There is stuff coming up from my well (that part deep in our beings – like the bottom of a well – where years of stuff gets buried) that merges with my heart and then that mixes with the stuff coming from above and then it pours out of me onto a page. 

Maybe one cannot come to the light without the other. Maybe it’s the Light of higher beingness that shines light into the well to release the emotions buried there. Maybe it is all that and much more. 

Who am I to try to say? But I am trying to explain it. These writings I do are from me and yet mix with something higher than me. The Muse arrives and the inner spark ignites into a flame, a short firestorm and then, it’s gone. Until the next time.

Some of you have been the recipients of the flash fire times as ideas and suggestions gush forth out of me. A comment made the day before or I may have read something or seen something on TV and the following morning the avalanche lets loose. And these moments are not just about me. There’s a higher purpose. I have to share, I have to.

It’s exciting and I am filled with joy. Thank you.

Working Past Self Doubts

How can I possibly be thinking about starting another book when I’ve stalled on the last one? But this morning I am doing just that. Yes, there’s a tug-of-war in my mind about it. The old self critic is screaming in my ear: Who do you think you are? You’ve failed at the last one, why do another? Why will this book be different? What make you think you can make a difference; that anyone will care what you have to say? You are not a professional. You have no letters after your name. “Nobody likes you,” (this last comes in the voice of Gollum to himself in the movie “The Lord of the Rings.”)

Yep, that nasty critic, but I have better mental blocks to him now. “I’m not listening, not listening,” (again, in Gollum’s voice). I have a goal, a purpose. I can make a difference. “I have to write, I have to” is my motto, “If I didn’t write, I’d die or go crazy… or worse…” And yes, I’ve been saying that for years. Writing has been my salvation.

The concept of a memoir has been stirring for a long time. Yes, there is that, who do I think I am, and I’m nobody, but I have a message to tell. My stories not only help me heal, they also help others. It’s not about telling someone what to do. That’s not my job. It’s the storytelling that allows others to take whatever information they will and make it work for them.

I have not climbed physical mountains, nor have I accomplished some great world feat. My accomplishments have been within. Just overcoming low self-esteem and self-hatred is huge. I know how to deal with negative emotions, know when to be OK with myself, know when to just be, and know when to push forward. Am I perfect? No -- and I don’t have to be. I just have to be me, be as good a person as I can be, enjoy life as best I can, and help others when I can.

And so, I attempt to take 60 years of living and over 20 of serious writing to describe this treasure hunt of the self to love who I am. I’ll admit, I’m still feeling a bit discombobulated, but it’s coming together.

Titles, organizing subjects (it’s not your normal memoir), where to start, when to end, how many chapters – the myriad of challenges to roadblock the start. 

I’ve been studying emotions almost my entire adult life. And while analyzing my own self, I also pay attention to others and their dealings with life. As I said the other day, I am seeing this self-study as a unique journey. This exploration is my purpose and I believe that my life experience and training is giving me – permission, if you will – to write this book and share my findings. I am not a professional. I am a peer… and yes, there is a part of me trying to explain what I’m doing.

But maybe I don’t need to explain it. I just need to do it. Hopefully, my stories will not only help me, but will help you find your way, too, when you are struggling. At least in this morning’s journaling and thinking, I’ve come up with title: “Digging for Gold Within Myself: a personal journey to help me, help all.”

The Subject of Weight

A conversation early this morning has me thinking about my weight. Weight is a huge subject in today’s society in relation to health, image, others’ perceptions, and a myriad of other issues. I know how I feel in my mind. I am OK within myself. If and when I make changes, it will be my decision.

I have learned to accept who I am and I actually like myself these days. I am not perfect; there is always self-work to do, but it is mine to do. What are hard for me are other people’s attitudes towards overweight women. It’s hard when I am looked at as if there is something wrong with me, that there’s something to be fixed. I know there are those who look down on me and the comments that are supposed to “help” me make a “better choice,” just make me feel bad and not accepted for who I am.

I wasn’t always overweight. I was always on the small side when I was young. The weight didn’t come (and stay) until after the birth of my second son. It seemed like no matter what I did, I didn’t get thin again and at one point, my second husband complained the weight I did lose made my face too skinny. I couldn’t win.

As the years passed and I worked on self-improvement, I recognized that part of the weight issue is a defense mechanism. Being overweight means men won’t hit on me and wives won’t be jealous. I can be a friend without worry that the friendship will be misinterpreted.

People tend to leave overweight people alone… and there are time I like that.

I also realize comments like, “If you eat that, you’re gonna get fat,” make me want to eat it (or more) just because of that attitude. There was always something in me that wanted to rebel and do something opposite from what others dictated.

I know people like me for me and not because I’m beautiful on the outside. That can be a two-edged sword because physical beauty sells. We all know that. Advertisers have used pretty girls for years to sell their products.

Our entire lives have been filled with the media forcing into us what should be and what shouldn’t be. Beauty and skinny sells. And even though I now know this, the picture in my mind of what beauty is so ingrained; it’s hard to not to continue to see that as the only beauty. 

More work is needed and more discussion. There is more to say.

Exploring Emotions – a Unique Journey

I am an explorer, an explorer of a unique place – my own mind/soul. My travels take me over mountains, into dark caverns, and I look into the deep abyss. I stand on ledges and exclaim at vast, beautiful vistas and I crawl into claustrophobic holes where I feel the life will be choked out of me. I dig in the muck at the bottom of my well to see what stirs within so it can be released into the light. I wander mazes of emotions trying to put words to the unnamable.

Who do I think I am? How dare I explore these places on my own? What right do I have to think I could possibly be a better person by doing this, by standing up to declare, “This is who I am!?”

Some people go the route of studying other people’s emotions and psyches: social workers, psychiatrists, psychologists, and counselors. I felt I had to understand my own self; that somehow, by understanding me, I would understand the world around me. I wanted to know why I felt such and so, why I never wanted to do exactly what others were doing. I wanted to know why I was different, why I didn’t fit into what seemed like normal situations. I wanted to know why, while growing up, no one liked me (or so I believed).

The journey of self-discovery takes a tremendous amount of courage. What if I don’t like what I see? Sometimes I don’t. What if the findings scare me? Sometimes they do. What if I dislike myself more? What if some of the horrible things that were said to me and about me in the past are true? What if there really is something wrong with me? I refuse to let that happen! I work through all the self doubts and fear. It isn’t always easy.

Why do I do this? Because I want to understand; I want to understand who and why I am. And by coming to terms with who I am, I am able to be with others and understand who they are. I am able to see both sides of situations even when I don’t personally agree. My inner eyes have opened wider.

I have learned what it means to be a sensitive and be proud that I am capable of feeling. Yes, I have to set boundaries to protect my soul. I avoid certain situations because the damage to my inner self would be too great. However, the knowledge this work has done for me is – freeing. Am I perfect? No. But I am better and I am happy.

The work continues as it must. Living means it’s an ongoing process. The study of emotions is fascinating. Now I look at it as going on a treasure hunt. The treasure isn’t always pretty, but the discovery is oh, so interesting.

Another Step Forward in Studying Emotions

I study emotions; in myself and others. I analyze my feelings and look into the reasons and how to better myself. Why do I feel such and such, and if it’s a negative emotion, how can I change it. 

I talk with other people and in listening to them, I am curious about their emotions and how they handle stress. I want to know why people think they way they do, and not from a standpoint of right or wrong, but in trying to understand human being-ness.

A couple of weeks ago, someone asked if I had heard about Brene Brown. I hadn’t and I looked her up on the web and listened to one her TED seminar/videos. I was impressed. I immediately ordered three of her books: “I Thought It Was Just Me (But It Isn’t)” about shame, guilt, and empathy; “The Gifts of Imperfection” about embracing who you are; and “Daring Greatly” about courage and vulnerability.

I put them in order by their published dates with the first one in 2007, 2010, and 2012. Ah, this was during my time in Bradford when I had stepped back from self-study to promote my art and writing career. That explained why I hadn’t heard about her.

I began reading the first book. Some are things I already know, but there is quite a bit that I find refreshing and it’s bringing me into greater understanding of who, why, and what I am, and how I want to go forward with my life. This will also help me in dealing with others and it’s bringing out the healer in me. (Yes, many of the various studies from the past were in the healing arts.)

Shame is the big skeleton in our closets. Brown says no one is without it. It’s a teaching mechanism and it’s used as punishment that is used from the moment we are born. Shame is an emotion and because everyone feels and experiences it differently, the subject has been difficult to address. Plus, people are not comfortable talking about shame. They may eventually talk about all other emotions, but shame runs deep.

I grew up with low self-esteem. It has haunted my entire life. In my teens and 20s, I actually hated myself. It wasn’t until I started reading this book (and I’ll be turning 62 this summer) that I come to understand low self-esteem develops from shame. It’s the shame of never feeling good enough, of not being accepted by peers, of not fitting in, of being odd, ugly, fat, shy, that there is something wrong with me – the list can go on. 

There’s no one to blame. It’s something that gets ingrained in us. I’m sure if I could go back and ask my parents why they “shamed” me, they would be appalled I would think such a thing. That’s certainly not what most parents intend and, of course, I can’t help but think about my own kids…but I didn’t know back then. I didn’t understand any of this.

I’ve spent years overcoming the “old” me: taking many courses and workshops, doing a lot of self work, and learning to work towards what I want. I even went so far as changing my name to escape that old image. I have come a long way and I am not the Debbie of my past.

Poetry was my salvation. Poetry, writing, and art helped me find myself. The self work often comes in spurts. I will read or hear something and then I will think about it, write about; sometimes for weeks or months. There are times when I have to read or listen to a point over and over before I get it. And all the time, I am becoming a better person, a more self-assured person, and I am happy.

Now I am learning low self-esteem comes from shame and I’ve just touched the tip on this subject. This is a whole new territory to explore. I am in my first few days of writing about it and I’m excited (and a bit nervous) to see where this will take me. Goodness, how can one talk about shame? What will people think if I admit my secrets?

I already figured out that people’s unhappiness is what brings out anger, bullying, and such. Now I am starting to understand where the unhappiness comes from. Oh, not the exact issue because we are all different and all have different triggers. 

We may have similar stories and feelings, but it’s not exactly the same. I can’t tell you what you are feeling. I can only understand that you feel so. It’s not easy to put words to emotions and when people feel bad enough, they may act out in negative ways. 

So, how do we get better? It takes courage to even admit we are struggling. There is always that, “I don’t want to talk about it” stubbornness. What will happen when we do talk? Will others understand? Will they hate us or make fun of us?

There will be those who will deny similar feelings, but most will relate. It takes courage for all of us. We have to create a better world and that takes courage, admitting vulnerability, and empathy.

I have taken dozens of workshops, read hundreds of books, learned various meditations, and spent a lot of money on many self-help and healing classes. Poetry, writing, photography, and art were my salvation, but the self-study goes on. I’m excited to find where this next step will take me.