Fanning the Flames of Fear and other "F" words

I had a few hours last night in which I sat by a fire, very close to it, and actually put my toe in for a second. I found out that I would be responsible for some debt my name was attached to, that had been being paid by the other party. Drama injection coming right up, at least 3cc's of the stuff please. I handled it quite well I believe, only a mild hangover today. I did not feel anger, I actually felt numb. My first response was to head to my God box and place a slip of paper inside with the problem spelled out. I then turned to fear. God hadn't answered my prayer in twelve whole seconds, twelve, seconds. The fear came out in sobs, then I turned to injustice. Everyone is out to get me, he just wants to screw up my life, etc etc etc. I should have probably dressed up in full Shakespearean costume for that performance, although only in my head, it was still drama at its most flamboyant. What I needed though was to feel those emotions, the sense of injustice, the drama of it all, because, like all intense feeling, it passed. It passed through because I didn't reach for the ice cream, or alcohol to stuff it back down inside to then turn into a major resentment. Because it is prime resentment material, it could blow into a bonfire. I might actually start to mix metaphors, while hating half of the Eastern coast for doing me wrong. Today, after a full nights rest and a healthy breakfast and chat with God, I can see that while in fear, I forgot how much I actually have. I have purple sandals. Life doesn't get much better than that. I believe that gratitude snuck in last night while I was asleep. God answered my prayer, it just took longer than twelve seconds, but that answer was a sense of serenity amidst a stressful situation. The old belief that has no purpose; everyone is out to get me, is replaced with a new belief, that I am a whole person, and my life is filled with abundance and love. All I need to do is allow myself to open my hands and receive, minus the injection of drama.

The Art of Living Independently

I think I need a remedial life skills class. I went from living in my parents' house to living with a roommate, to my husband of many years. I am now living on my own, out in the big world and sometimes find myself lacking in many skills necessary to living independently. I know how to manage a household as a couple, I watched my parents do this, and while married shared the load of living in a household. Today though I am responsible for the whole shebang, including garbage, bills, mowing, and dishes. The details seem endless and start to pile on top of me while I sleep, along with layers of animal fur. I forgot to call the doctor again to make an appointment for my son. Oops, ran out of butter, and the mac and cheese is all cooked. The registry doesn't inform you anymore that you need to renew your registration every two years? Details, details, details. I have a vision of living my life, everything falling into place like a Monet, yet I forget that I have to learn to use a pencil and draw a straight line first. I need a book titled, "The Art of Living Independently," because this is just not working. Maybe today I will start with a line, take out the garbage and just let everything else go, except for the ticket I need to pay before they snatch my registration away. Oh and butter might make the mac and cheese taste better than rubber. Maybe I'll write that book, because I sure do need it.

Big Fat Juicy Resentment, To Go Please

There are just some days when I cannot seem to remember how fabulous my life is and I wake up itching for a fight. Today was one of those days. I had to leave the house I was staying at earlier than usual, which meant that I had to wake up earlier than usual. I ended up running late, and upon entering my door found a ceramic jewelry box smashed on the floor, earrings strewn throughout my house. My cats had invented a new game, one that I was not ever planning on playing with them. I had stumbled upon some extra work this week, so my daily routine; meal, running, writing, and meditation had been disrupted, and I am feeling the difference. I went out into the day with my fists in the air, ready to taste blood, not at all like me, an eggplant eating vegetarian gal who tries not to step on the ants or run over frogs crossing the road. Cars would pass me while I was finally running this evening, going well over the speed limit, and my anger would surge. I looked like a maniac, a sweat covered, muttering, red - faced maniac. What is my part in this day? How had I contributed to the madness? An anonymous writer once said, "We shall want to hold ourselves to the course of admitting the things we had done, meanwhile forgiving the wrongs done us, real or fancied." Most of the wrongs done to me today were fancied. I could have stayed at home last night instead of a friend's house, allowing for added sleep. I could have refused the extra work. I could have made sure to eat enough and hydrate before my run, lessening the irritability that comes from not enough glucose in the bloodstream. I could have put all of my possessions in plastic containers, as it is not the first time my cats, mostly young cats, have decided to redecorate. And I am writing now. Today I forgot my gratitude and craved the energy that comes with a good ole resentment, broiled to perfection and served with fries. I guess its back to tofu.

Of Muscles and Mowing and Music, Oh My

I recently decided, with the help of a very cool friend, to run my first marathon. I have been running sporadically since 2004. I go through phases where I will run my route when it is sleeting or 90 degrees, and when I just cannot get the motivation to stand. I have set this goal though and hopefully, October 10, I will run 26 miles. Since making this decision I have had to up my mileage, and took my first long run on Friday. I had my trusty water pack and sports gel, and was armed with lots of music. And I am pleased to say that I made it, almost 11 miles of road covered, mostly flat and I learned an incredible amount from those 2 hours. First, that I have muscles in my body that I did not know existed. Second, that my lungs have healed from years of smoking a pack a day. Third, that there are so many details that I miss in my day to day existence. I experienced a different perspective while running on the road, instead of driving down it at 50 mph; neighbors that have horses, a house for sale that has a beautiful building behind it, and the different way that people mow their lawns. I contemplated the mowing patterns, vertical, horizontal or diagonal, wondering if it had anything to do with the people themselves or just a fluke. I saw the property lines in grass, one neighbor mowing to a point, the other a week behind. I appreciated the perspective I gained of a world that is so much more than just a blur viewed out the windshield. I am hoping to keep this sense of appreciation for detail as I go into the next two months of training. If nothing else happens I can say that this girl, who almost failed gym class, is giving it a shot. Hello tiny ankle muscles, nice to meet you.

Just Laugh Already

My friend laughed last night at a humorous remark I made. He really laughed, not just a fake one to appease me. I love it when people truly laugh. There is a huge difference. In true laughter we let our guard down for just that brief moment and experience joy. I know it sounds mushy, but his eyes light up and his whole face opens when he laughs. When we truly allow ourselves to laugh we let go of a need to control ourselves and our surroundings. I am not so sure that us human folk like to give up control. Look around you, everywhere you will see humans harnessing and controlling the natural environment. We build dams to control water, harness electricity, blow up mountains to build roads, and genetically modify our crops and animals. There are very few people that truly know who I am. I have a mask that I wear in a job, my customer service mask, I have a face I put on when I am at school or with family, or different friends. Rarely do I just open up and say, "Here, this is who I am, I am displeased and anxious right now so leave me alone." I smile and say thank you. Now we need to have manners, and we need to alter our personalities to some point to deal with life, but I think we also have to strike a balance, unclench, lighten up and experience pure joy. Children have it down, watch them. They are in their full glory. They will burst out into gales of laughter if something is funny, and stay quiet at something that is not. An adult will give a polite little laugh at the funny and not so funny. My cats will experience the pure joy and abandon of chasing a flying insect through the house at 2:30 am. I guess maybe we could learn a lot from children and animals about the joy that is all around us, every day. This morning I woke up to songbirds, belting out a tune, just because they were awake and alive and it was morning. Maybe I should try that tomorrow when my alarm goes off, then have a good laugh and appreciate the fact that I didn't die in the middle of the night. Maybe, just maybe I'll try it. Or maybe I'll sleep in.

Early Morning Symphonies

Songbirds first graced our presence in the Miocene age, 25 million years ago, many millions of years before homo sapiens. Every morning when I sit down to write, I hear them singing. Each day holds a new composition, and I have taken to calling them songbird symphonies. They can be broken into movements as new voices start to sing, and the rhythm and speed varies. The concert ends as my teacup becomes empty, and I leave for my day filled with peace. It is amazing how just the sound of birds can help me to ease into my day. A friend of mine was telling me the story of how she had to comfort her daughter as the little girl watched trees being cut down on an adjoining property for a development. The little girl had learned in school that trees provide oxygen and take in carbon dioxide, our waste product. She had seen a pair of deer standing there with no place to go and she started to cry. I imagined how many homes were destroyed as the trees were chopped; songbird, squirrel, and insect. How many nests ended up going through the shaver? As I sit here in my home and listen to the songbird symphonies I realise just how lucky I am to have access to this beautiful music in the morning. Looking back in geological time I see that we haven't really been here that long, and that the Earth has changed drastically in the 4.6 billion years it has been around. We were not here first, and we probably won't be here last. I'll create the music now.

Making Friends

I consider myself a technology neophyte. Yes I have been using email for years, but my cell phone is a recent acquisition, a mere three years ago, and I have just discovered Facebook, blogging and Twitter. Unexplored territory still abounds. There is a phone on the market that allows the user to track their hikes, bikes, or runs, the mileage and terrain, and save the route to Google. The communications industry appears to be booming. It seems that we are all desperate to stay connected with each other. I have people following me on Twitter that I do not even know, and I have posted there exactly once. I discover that when I am home alone I tend to check my email numerous times a day, both school and home. That need to connect with someone can sometimes be a little obsessive. Of course I have an opinion on this subject. As a culture we seem to be so busy that there isn't any time left over to really connect with friends, family, and the natural world. If I came to you from the 1800's, I would probably be living with extended family. We would converse face to face, on a daily basis, maybe as we rocked while working on needlepoint. Today, I do not see your face, I text message a note, email, or leave a message on your voice mail. A real person to person connection is not reached very often. And so we use what we have in a desperate attempt to connect in a world that hardly allows for it. But then again we all have access to many more people than we did before we had transportation and a weekly trip to the market and church was our social life. Maybe that is the gift in this communication age, the ability to connect with thousands instead of 10. Or maybe it is the curse.