Month: December 2018

Acceptance. Affection. Closeness. Belonging. Dignity.

I am noticing the need, the desire in myself, for these things…these intangible qualities of life and well-being. I confess it.

I am also noticing something else more clearly than I may have seen it, before: I am noticing that although “they” (those mysterious knowing authorities) have long said that the best way to receive something is to give it, I may have been missing the full impact of what was being said.

Maybe it’s more than a pretty idea. Maybe it’s actually much closer to a universal law.

Treating my world with disrespect, for me, disrupts the very dignity I am seeking to cultivate.

Sarcasm and snarky comments, self-righteous indignation, mocking, being certain of my stand…such reactions to my world neither soften me toward it nor do they seem to soften the world toward me. They don’t engender compassion anywhere. They might engender agreement from some quarters…but not compassion. They don’t engender listening or honesty…or healing.

Seeing my world as a place to fix makes it forever a place to fix, right? After all, it will never be “just so”…will it? Expectation is a weird slippery slide.

Giving the world acceptance, affection and a deep respect will garner acceptance, affection and respect for myself, even if only in the form of self-respect. But haven’t you met people in whom that kind of dignity shines like a beacon? Haven’t you met people who felt like lighthouses of love…and change?

The funny thing is, I am learning this is not capitulation…it’s not being a doormat. It’s opening.

So, I have a discussion with someone and I am hurt or feel ashamed or angry or resistant. What if, in that moment, I give myself what I am needing…instead of continuing the fight? What if I let the resistance break? What if I surrender? What if I notice exactly what I am needing and give it to me? What if I respect myself and then, lo and behold, I find I am able to respect what I am hearing? What if I have compassion on myself and somehow I find I am then an open space to give compassion? What if I stand firmly in a place of unflinching peace?

What if I put down all my weapons…and look around to find the war over? Possible?

I read a marvelous phrase today: “purposeful inaction.”

It struck me rather like a thunderbolt. It has been a year and eight months since I left my job at UW Hospital in Madison and this is what I have been attempting, anyway, to do.  Take time to refocus. Reorient myself. Learn to live in a new way. Get quiet inside.

Sometimes it has been a challenge to find the quiet. (The head can be a noisy place, can’t it?)

I tell my mother I am feeling into the next thing in front of me…nothing much further than that. 

How “successful” I have been at it is another matter; how well I have been feeling into my own intuition and my own guidance is another matter. Still, how can I begin anyplace but right here, right now…always…right? It does no good to wish things otherwise. Whatever has gone on before, here I am. This is the place to start; every day, every moment. I don’t have another. 

Sometimes, it’s time to take a step…make a move. Sometimes, it’s time for purposeful inaction. May the universe show me, moment by moment, which of those two belongs to that moment. I suppose that’s what it’s been doing all along, anyway…whether I understand it, or not…whether I find myself making judgments about it, or not. Something bigger than me seems to have a handle on things.

Let us dance to the music that’s playing right now. What else can we do?

I will never be a writer if I do not write. I keep telling myself this same thing over and over and over again.

It seems I find lots of distractions, excuses, sometimes reasons (sometimes)…not to sit here and do this. Who cares about my little life, anyway? What do I have to say? What does my opinion matter…or this personal experience, really, in the grand scheme of things? Who do I think I am? What if what I write is boring? And the list goes on…

It’s easier to read someone else’s book. It’s easier to live vicariously than to come here to this computer and get a feel for my own voice. 

This past couple of days I have been reading a book by Elizabeth Berg. This one is called The Year of Pleasures. I sigh and I think: Will I ever be able to write a novel with that kind of depth?

So Dear Readers, Kind Readers, if you are still here I so appreciate you. Thank you for being along for the ride, with me.

I am in Las Vegas, right now. My mother is here. I grew up here. I went to Junior High School and High School here. (Not that I know my way around it well, anymore…it has changed so much since then.) It’s possible I will be here through the new year. Jake is with me, sharing this Airbnb.

The photo is a photo of me sitting by the fire in the front room. In case you can’t see it, the caption on the mug says “Live the life you imagine.” It’s my little daily reminder.

I’ve been spending some time in cabins up in Northern California (didn’t have much internet there) and at a silent retreat in Southern California. So, yes, I’ve been taking a break.

I will leave you with this: A couple of days ago I wrote in my personal journal:

“Over and over again I am thrown back in the middle of the story…back into the woman and the struggle and the doubt. Over and over again I have tried to transcend it…to rise above it. I have tried to climb up and out of the fire of my humanity. It doesn’t work.

It never works.”

Right now I am thinking how grateful I am for that. I am thinking how grateful I am for my humanity. Blessings to you, Dear Reader.

I wish you a beautiful holiday season.